> Daring Do and the Iron Pyramid
>  by Unwhole Hole
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: A Dusty New Horizon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowds had gathered at the borders of the docks. Fillies and colts, staring in amazement toward the skies, and their parents, taking a brief reprieve from their jobs and watching with the barest hint of the same childlike joy. High in the clear blue sky, coming across the seemingly endless desert, came the zeppelins.  

The majority of them were decrepit, ancient things from centuries past maintained largely with a combination glue, luck, and staunch refusal to properly obey gravity. That said, to the ponies of Southern Equestria, they were truly a sight to behold, if only because of their sheer size: massive behemoths of the sky, their engines belching black smoke into the cloudless sky as they drove ever forward, carrying canned vegetables or bottled vegetables or even dried vegetables, whatever would persist throughout the journey from the north to a region that only until recent decades had been only accessible by the very hardiest of trade caravans.  

Then one passed the others. This one, the ponies looked at in confusion, and perhaps fear, because it was different. A smaller ship, a northern corsair, driven not by coal-fire but by wind. Not a trudging, damaged monstrosity but something new and fresh, clad in shining paint and marked by the sign of a red moon.

The corsair was far faster than its heavier, cargo-laden compatriots and moved through the docking yard with exacting precision and unparalleled speed. As it and the others approached, the ballast boys took flight: Pegasi in dusty uniforms rose to the incoming zeppelins and dirigibles, grasping ropes thrown to them by the sky-sailors and clipping them onto their belts. Some among them pulled as the engines cut, pulling the airships to the appropriate spires, while others simply fell limp, causing their ropes to go taught and, as their job title implied, becoming ballast.  

The corsair was directed toward the passenger offloading area, usually used for small transport vehicles but occasionally vast luxury liners. This, though, was a private ship, and assigned its own spire. The ballast boys had been told what the insignia on its side meant, and what to expect—to the extent that anypony knew.  




As the workponies moved to affix the corsair to the mooring mast, others set to work linking to the docking ports to allow for immediate egress. Before they could even get the stairs into position, though, one of the external doors was flung open from inside. A pony ran onto the observation deck and leapt over the rail, her wings guiding her downward to the mast balcony before the zeppelin had even been stabilized.  

She landed, immediately dazzled by the bright desert light, and took a breath of the dry air. It smelled so very strange, like dust and freshness mixed with the scent of oil exhaust and ballast boy, and it only served to excite her more.  

The mare in question, at age seventeen, could barely be called a mare. She was clad in a sleeveless, double-breasted shirt, made of black silk of course, and she could immediately feel the heat of the sun even from the shade of the spire mast. Her coat was not dissimilar in color from the dust that surrounded her and clung to every surface. Her mane, which she could already feel the wind passing through and against, was pure black.  

She immediately ran to the edge of the balcony, looking out over the airship, at the zeppelins approaching and docking around her, and the exotic city beyond. In the distance, she saw the piles of squarish houses, dwarfed by an enormous pyramid, and beyond them the remnants of a distant fort, its sandstone components falling into ruin even as a Celestial flag flew overhead. Beyond that, she saw nothing. Only sand reaching to the end of the horizon.  

“Wow!” she said, almost bursting into laughter. “We’re so high up!”

“We came in an airship, Daring.”

Daring Do turned. The workers, somewhat displeased by her impatience, had moored the corsair and linked the mobile stairs and bridge to the airship. The pony now descending the stairs was the one who had spoken. She was a mossy colored mare, clad in delicate silk, most of it black in the same shade as Daring Do’s clothing. Instead of being formed into a sleeveless blouse, though, her clothing had been assembled into a dress of incredible complexity—and cut to very closely reveal her towering figure. Although she walked with a parasol, it was apparent even at a distance that she was a unicorn, one almost twice Daring Do’s height—and with a distinctly curved horn emerging from her forehead.

“Additionally,” continued Wun, “you have wings. Do you not fly? Are you lazy?” She paused. “Should I have keelhauled you off the zeppelin?”  

Daring frowned. “ Sure, now you offer,” she grumbled. “But it’s different when there’s a tower involved. I mean, look at it! We can see everything!”

Wun Perr-Synt approached the edge and stood beside her sister, turning her unnaturally large eyes toward the expanse. “I do see it,” she said. “From above, it all looks very dull.”

“I bet it would be fun seeing it up close, then?”

Daring looked to her sister, a broad smile crossing her face. Wun remained impassive. Then she spoke. “Yes.”

Her horn ignited, lobbing Daring Do over the railing. Daring, momentarily surprised, shouted with excitement as she gained her direction and spiraled down the tower. Wun smiled, if only slightly. Her sister amused her.  

She turned to take the stairs, her large eyes scanning over the workers unloading her luggage.  

“Be careful,” she said, passing a small earth-pony struggling with a heavy metal suitcase. “The contents of that one are quite explosive.”  

The boy looked up at her, terrified, and she smiled.

Their fear amused her too.  




Daring Do’s hypothesis was almost immediately proven correct. As impressive as the world looked from high above, it was so much more engaging at eye-level.  

There were ponies everywhere, and Daring Do could hear nearly every language she knew and a few she did not. There were workers, sailors and longshoreponies, the latter of whom were unloading cargo of nearly every sort or linking crates of rare spices and alchemical reagents onto cranes, lifting them up to the zeppelins tied to their towers that blotted out the sun over the outer parts of the city.  

Beyond the docks, there were the buildings, and the city itself, and the ponies within it. They wore robes of many colors, and many had their eyes painted with makeup extending downward in vertical lines. Many were adorned with glowpaz, and some with gold or other jewels—and all were talking and milling about, hard at work and selling their wares on the busy streets.  

Daring Do, of course, was ecstatic. The noise of pony speech, the sound of hooves and machines and the smell of spices and exotic foods roasting all met her at once, nearly making her busy. It was so much like the streets of her home, but everything that was familiar about Singapone had been turned on its head. Everything was so deeply and profoundly NEW.  

Exactly how long she was stunned was unclear, although soon she found Wun beside her, staring at nothing in particular from beneath her parasol. This was somewhat standard behavior for her, although Daring Do could not imagine how.

“This does nothing for you? Come on! Look at all this!”

Wun looked out at it. “Yes. I like this. Very noisy.”

Daring paused. “Have you been here before?”

“Here? No. I never have. The Company does not ship this far south. Although seeing these spices, I am beginning to reconsider. I will draft a proposal to father when I get the chance. You know how he is about airships.” 

Daring jabbed at her sister, nearly causing her to tilt. “Come on, Wun. I know you’re excited. What do you think we should do?”

“Do?”

Daring gasped, looking down an alley to another section of the town. “A market! We should—we should buy PROVISIONS!”  

Wun stared at her. “The site is fully supplied already. Or should be. If it is not, I suppose I will have to hang somepony. By...an appendage.”  

Daring sighed. “When are we due on location?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And if you didn’t want to explore the town, you would have stayed on the ship.”

Wun stared at Daring. Then she slowly started walking toward the market. “It is amazing how well you know me.”

Daring smiled and bounded excitedly forward. Wun did not move quickly—she seldom did—but her height lent her an unusual gait that was simultaneously graceful and bizarrely quick. Daring took note of the reactions of the ponies around her. Most of them were polite enough not to stare, but they still withdrew from Wun’s presence. Wun herself seemed distinctly out of place, and Daring felt the same—but did not know what else to do.  

They came to the market and found it nearly as bustling as the shipyard, except exponentially more colorful. There were stalls and stands and tends of every sort, selling every kind of thing that Daring Do could imagine. There were exotic textiles, clothing, and ornaments besides spices of every color and fruits and vegetables that even Daring Do did not know the names of. Once again, the sudden exposure to so much stimulus left Daring completely stunned.

“Focus,” said Wun. She turned slightly to her right, finding the tip of her nose inches from a bulbous, spiky plant growing out of the sandy soil. “That is a cactus,” she said, to no one in particular. “This pleases me.”  

“Don’t try to eat it.”

“I was not going to.”

“Yes, you were. Don’t do it.”

Wun did not answer, but continued to stare unblinkingly at the bizarre plant.  

Daring, meanwhile, approached the nearest stall. An older stallion sat behind it, and he smiled as she approached. Daring Do looked at his wares and was tickled to realize that he was selling trinkets and curios.

“Wun, look at this!” Daring approached a statue of a pony carved from a unique dark stone. A figure that the merchant had several of—and that actually, as Daring Do looked around, seemed to be a common motif of the town. Everyone seemed to have statues of that pony, and the center of the plaza had a large one.  

“What is this?” asked Daring Do. Then, she rephrased. “Who is this?”	

The merchant smiled kindly. “Why, child, that is Somnambula, the Bastion of Hope, a pony of great importance to our people. Second only to Ra, of course.”

“Ra?”

“Yes, the one you call Celestia, the One True Goddess.”  

“Is it old?” asked Wun, her mouth dripping with cactus sap.

“Ra?”

Wun pointed at the statue.  

“Old? As in…?
Daring sighed. “She means the statue.”

“Well, no,” admitted the merchant. “These are carved recently, but locally, and with great love. Every representation of Somnambula is. But in truth, it is the idea of her that bears such weight, is it not? Of hope, even in the darkest times, and the will to see it forward to fruition.” He raised an eyebrow. “But it is strange to meet one who does not know the Bastion of Hope. I take it you two have only arrived recently.”

“Is it that obvious?”

The merchant shrugged. “A little?” He paused. “If I might ask, if it is not too rude, are you tourists? Perhaps you would like...a tiny souvenir?” He produced a tiny Somnambula statue. “It is never a bad thing to have a little hope, no?”

“We’re not,” said Daring. “We’re actually here to oversee an archaeological expedition.”   

The merchant’s eyes seemed to light up. “Archaeologists? My my, you’ve certainly come to the right place! So much of our culture has gotten buried and lost! Perhaps you are here to work the dig at Hissan’s pyramid?” He gestured to the towering structure in the distance. “We have already learned so much about our ancestors, archaeologists are always welcome here!” He held up a tiny Celestia statue. “I will even give you this one to, for half price if you buy both!”

“We’re actually not archeologists,” admitted Daring.

“You’re...not?”
“No. Our father is financing the dig. We’re just here to oversee it.” Daring smiled. “And I’ve been keeping up reading about Hissan’s pyramid, as neat as it is, that’s not where we’re going.”

“Oh really? Well, we have a great  many pyramids and palaces.”

“We’re interested in one in particular. It’s located to the south.”

The smile vanished from the merchant’s face, and all levity left his tone of voice. “This is the most southern extreme of Equestria, I’m afraid. There is nothing south of here.”

Daring frowned. “Yes there is. That’s where we’re going.”

“There is nothing,” snapped the merchant. “Nothing except red dessert.”

“That’s not true. Two hundred forty miles south of here, there’s--”

All color drained from the merchant’s face, and a look of horror overcame him.  

“Is something wrong? What did I say--”

“There is NOTHING!” he screamed. “NOTHING TO THE SOUTH!”

“But--”

“Get out! GET OUT!”

Daring took a step back, only to find that much of the market had fallen silent. She stood still for what seemed like an eternity, and then everything started moving.

In seconds, it seemed like every shop had closed. Every window that could be boarded had been boarded, and every stall closed. The ponies had vanished, running as quickly as they could. Even the statue merchant had fled, terrified and shaking, abandoning his statues as he departed.

Then it was empty. The market, once bustling, was now dead and silent. No ponies could be seen.

Wun barely seemed to notice. She was staring closely at the Somnambula statue. “I do not want this,” she said. “But if we find the real Somnambula, I would like to own her skeleton.”  

“Where did everypony go?” asked Daring. “What did I do?”

“Interesting that you blame yourself,” said a voice beside them. Daring nearly jumped from the sudden disturbance in the silence. She turned sharply to see that one merchant had not left, one operating his stall from an ornate caravan cart.  

His clothes were not like those of the others. From his dress and from his preternatural height, it was clear that he was Saddle Arabian—and the only one now present in the market.  

“You didn’t run away.”

He shrugged. “I have no reason two. Although never have I seen one perturb the locals so very badly.”

Daring approached the unicorn. He was pinkish in coloration, and wearing a pair of goggles over his hat.  

“Such a disturbing pun,” mused Wun.

Daring ignored her. “Why did they run away?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the empty market. Its silence was disturbing, and its emptiness more so.  

“Superstition, largely. The locals, they do not speak of the south here, and what lies there.”

“But you do.”

The stallion smiled. “I am very clearly not a local. My wife and I cross the deserts to trade here.”

As he spoke, the door to his cart opened, and his wife emerged. Daring Do was immediately somewhat confused, not knowing the word for what she was. Then it occurred to her. The stallion’s wife was a camel.  

Wun’s head swiveled, and she frowned. “I am not sure if this is offensive as I think it is.”

The camel set down a tray of kebabs and leaned her long neck against her husband. She was clad in a brightly colored blanket, and wore the same eye makeup as the locals. “Take one, child,” she said. “Do not let the heat make you forget to eat. Starvation takes what thirst does not.” 

Daring took one of the kebabs. It was made of vegetables and some manner of fungus. She took a bite and found it quite delicious.  

“And you, old one?”

“I’m not old,” snapped Wun. “Her and I are the same age.”

“No. You are not.”

“She only eats cubes of tofu,” said Daring Do. Which, was of course, was not entirely true—but she did not want to explain Wun’s unique diet to others. “Thank you. But why don’t the locals talk about the south? Why are they so afraid?”

The Saddle Arabian stallion tilted his head. “Well,” he said, “I cannot say I know for sure. But every traveler knows to stay away from that land.”

“Even my people do not cross it,” said his wife. “Until recently, not even we could survive the journey.”

“Some have,” said the stallion. “Not travelers, or traders. Strange folk. But they cannot get near. The locals are...well, not the sort to give you free kebab.”

Daring felt her face grow hot. “I can pay for it--”

“No need,” said the camel. “We are in a very good mood today. After all, it is Wednesday.”

Daring frowned. “What’s so special about Wednesday?”

The unicorn and his wife looked at each other and giggled.  

“Regardless,” said the stallion, after a moment, “going south is an unwise choice.”

“But you said it was just superstition.”

“No. It is superstition that keeps the locals away. The terror of the Black Pyramid. We stay away for much more practical reasons.”

“Nothing good can come from that dead place,” added the camel, her expression darkening.  

“We already have an expedition on site,” said Wun, coldly. “And I do not intend to let either superstition nor practical limitations prevent me from performing this operation.”

The stallion’s smile grew. “Yes. I know. I was the one who outfit them, because I was the only one willing to sell to them. Just as I am the only one here to sell to you.” 

“You son of a—you were waiting, weren’t you?”

The stallion shrugged. “Maybe we were, maybe we were not. Who knows?”

“Well, the joke’s on you, I don’t even need to--”

Daring Do was pushed aside by her sister’s magic.  

“Wun?”

“I have decided that I want to buy something,” she said.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. So I recommend that you wander off. There will be some slight negotiation. It may take time. Also probably violence.”  

The camel seemed nervous, but the stallion seemed to have—stupidly--accepted the challenge. Daring Do, meanwhile, beat a hasty retreat. She knew how Wun could get, especially during negotiations. Purchasing things tended to mean very little to her, but she enjoyed the process. It would either be profoundly drawn out and boring, or there would be severe property damage.  



The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, and the wind was starting to strengthen. It was surprisingly cold. Somehow it seemed to make the emptiness so much worse.  

Word seemed to have spread. What should have been a joyous time of cultural exploration had turned so much darker. Daring Do had become a pariah in a place she had just arrived. Ponies who saw her would quickly hide in their houses, departing from her presence as quickly as they could. As if the curse they feared had stuck to her simply by intent.

So she wandered through the cooling streets, alone and in the orange light of a beautiful sunset that she could not see through the densely packed buildings. She eventually wandered to a place where she could see the ancient fort looming over her. A pair of elderly soldiers in Southern Equestria uniforms were in the process of lowering the flag for the night.  

Daring sighed and shivered. The excitement had faded, and now she was having misgivings about the whole of it. It was the first time she had been allowed to attend a mission like this, or to go anywhere at all apart from her home. The best she had ever managed to do was sneak out into the city—and now she was here, in a place she had always dreamed of going, and everypony seemed to hate her.  

She looked up and saw that she had gotten totally lost. Except that she was standing in front of a building marked with a sign of a book, and an insignia of a star. The text beneath it read, in Southern Equestrian, “Library”. 

Daring reached for the door, knowing that it would be locked. Instead, though, she felt the mechanism of the handle click and the door slide open.

She stepped inside, feeling the coolness of the building washing over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of books, and old ones, was a smell that had always calmed her. Books, texts, and tomes were what made up her life, and even if they were not quite enough they were something she would always love. And this library held that smell deeply, as it had for a long time.  

When she opened her eyes, they had adjusted to the light, which was dim. The orange glow of the sun came through a set of high windows, lighting paths through the dust and splashing brightly on the cold tile floor. Across the way sat a desk, and the stallion behind it looked up.

Daring Do was immediately struck by his appearance. He was a unicorn, and one of advanced age, but not in the normal sense. He aged the way those of only the purest descent were able to, and the way that so few ponies could consciously perceive. But Daring Do could. The way his beautiful and youthful face was just a little bit too gaunt, or how his limbs were just slightly too thin—and of course, the eyes. The eyes were always the most obvious clue. The eyes of a creature that had lived so long that he was on the verge of becoming something that was not even a pony at all.

They were just like the eyes of the stallion that Daring Do considered her father, although not quite the same. Wun Hun Dred Perr-Synt’s unblinking eyes always seemed to carry predatory intent, a sort of bizarre and hungry intent. This stallion’s eyes, though at least as old, seemed to carry a sense of disturbing inquisitiveness. Daring Do was not sure which was worse.  

“Welcome,” he said. “Please, feel free to look around. I do not get many visitors these days.”

Daring paused. “You’re not going to tell me to leave, are you?”

The stallion looked over the top of the book he was reading. “Everyone is welcome in the library. This is a safe place for anyone at all. That is my strictest policy. You are welcome here, as is everyone who respects the books and the knowledge therein.”  

Daring Do took a few steps forward. The stallion was gray in color, nearly white, and had several streaks of violet in his otherwise white mane, which was tied back in a ponytail. His face was mottled with peculiar violet freckles. Daring Do took note that on his left foreleg, he seemed to have a tattoo of some sort. It was covered by the sleeve of his jacket, but she could see that it was something of immense complexity—and something that had not yet been finished.  

Stranger still, Daring recognized him.  

“The star,” she said. “You’re from House Twilight.”  

The stallion, somewhat surprised, smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Twilight Felt. And you are?”

“Daring Do.”

“What an exiting name. And, if you might forgive an old stallion, it is strange, isn’t it?”

“My name?”

“No. The fact that a young Pegasus girl enters my library wearing a shirt of changeling silk in Singapone style and can recognize pureblood Houses.”

“Well, I’d say it’s strange that a member of the most powerful noble family in all of Equestria is sitting in a dusty library at the outer edge of nowhere, but I wasn’t going to point it out because I’m not a rude butt.”  

“And yet you pointed it out anyway. So I guess we are both the butt. And clearly you do not know House Twilight very well.”  

“Enough to know that you should be sitting in a throne eating grapes of fluffing Celestia’s wings or whatever it is you do.”

Felt smiled, and pointed to his face and the violet mottling of his coat on his neck. “I was, unfortunately, not born white. A colored pony has no place in House Twilight. Nor does it bother me, though. Courtly life is not exactly my forte.”  

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I used to be an adventurer like you.”

Daring Do was taken aback by this. “I’m not an adventurer.”

“Ms. Do. I had lived several of your lifetimes by the time I was middle-aged. It’s not something you choose. It’s something I can see in your eyes. Although frankly you are going to swelter in that silk. If it is not to forward, I do have some spare clothes that are more suitable.”

“I don’t need--”

“If you intend to be doing any adventuring at all, you need to be properly equipped. And blending in is never a bad idea.”

Felt stood up and stepped out from behind his desk, with some difficulty. He walked with a severe limp, and when he emerged from his desk, Daring saw why. One of his rear legs was missing halfway up the thigh.  

He saw her staring and chuckled. “Yes, well, as you know, anyone with any manner of bow, well...they aim for the knees. What they do not tell you is just how many tribes poison their arrows.”  

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? I got old, and I got slow. Such is the way it goes, even for purebloods.” He walked toward the rear shelves of the library, to the immense stacks built in the tighter spaces back there.  

“This is a lot of books.”

“My accumulated work.”

Daring gasped. “You wrote all these?!”

Felt laughed. “Wrote them? No, my dear. Why would anyone want a library with just one author? No, no, not at all…these were books I collected, in my time.”

“You adventured for...books?”
Felt paused. “An interesting thing you might consider, Ms. Do. Where does history come from, do you think?”

“From...the past?”
“Yes, ideally. But in practice, not at all. History comes from those who write it down. They are the ones who control it. The ones who define our reality.”  

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Felt looked at her. “The fact that you feel that way is a good sign. I feel the same way. Which was the point of my work. Not to understand what was, but what was lost. The parts of history that were stolen from us.”

“How can you steal history?”

“It is not as hard as you would think.” Felt looked at his shelves. “My own family is a prime example. Everything that is taught to us was a lie. We created ourselves in the present to define our past. Which answers your question.”

“What question?”

“Why I am on the far end of nowhere.”  

Daring Do paused for a moment, staring up at the books. Her eyes had adjusted enough for her to see the titles. Many were in strange languages, and had esoteric subjects. Many concerned magic, and other things—forgotten titles about forgotten things. Some of them, she was sure, were dangerous things—but she could not fully convince herself that even those ones should be forgotten too.  

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Very few of the locals speak to me, and I no longer sleep. I have time, and volition.”  

Daring Do took a breath. “I came here to oversee a dig. At a special pyramid...in the south.”

Twilight Felt turned to her, slowly, his violet eyes seeming to stare into her. Daring Do braced for screaming.

“The Iron Pyramid,” he said. “Then I was not incorrect.”

“You know it?”

“I know of it, yes. Although I have only seen it once.”

“You—saw it?!” Daring Do gasped, suddenly realizing what the trader had meant about “Strange Folk”. This stallion was quite clearly a wizard, and from the tattoo and the books, almost assuredly an extremely dark one.

“Once. Getting close is not easy. Invisibility does not work. They can hear you. Those arrows missed my knees, but did not miss entirely. But the Pyramid held nothing I needed nor desired, so I left it behind.”

“Do you know what it is?”

Felt paused, and then walked over to one particular shelf. He scanned through the titles and began carefully removing books. “I do not think anypony knows what, exactly, it is,” he said, slowly. “In any more than a general sense, at least.
“Then what is it, in a general sense?”

“A pyramid.”

“Well, yeah, I already knew that.”

“Did you? You haven’t seen it. You’ll understand when you do I suppose, if you make it that far.  But the point is, it’s a special pyramid.”

“Every pyramid is special.”

“Not really. All made of rock and with a dead king stuffed inside.”

“Then why is this one different?”

Felt looked over his shoulder. “Because of its age. It supposedly was created by a pre-Celestine culture.”

Daring Do shivered. “Pre-Celestine? Is that even possible?”

Felt raised an eyebrow. “You are asking if things existed prior to Celestia? Have you ever heard the name Somnabula?”

Daring reddened. “That’s not what I mean! It’s just that...well...”

“That almost everything from that era has been meticulously erased from history?”

Daring shivered. “That isn’t proof.”

“I do not need proof more than I have.” He looked at spine of a book, and then pulled it out. “However, I can say that almost nothing is known of that era. The longer you go back, the more sparse the records become.”

“Well, you’re supposed to be an expert, aren’t you?”

Felt looked up. “I never said that.”

“Road apples. You said you’re an adventurer, right? And all these books?”

Felt’s brow furrowed, to the extent that his facial muscles still functioned. “I don’t know what it is, or what function it once served. An early tomb, perhaps, or a temple. Or perhaps simply a monolith. Perhaps something empty with nothing inside.”

“Do ancient tombs ever have ‘nothing inside’?”

“No.” Felt snapped the book closed and put it with the others. “But sometimes they have nothing of use. Or things that really are better left alone...as the other Twilights would say, anyway. My real question, though, is why you seem so obsessed with this line of inquiry.”

“Because I’m headed there. My sister and I are overseeing a dig. It’s really important to our father, and Wun too, I guess.”

“No.”

“No? You don’t know her. I hope. Unless you...” Daring Do shivered. She had never really asked how many times her sister had been married, or two whom. “She likes old things. Artifacts, like our father. It’s her thing.”

“Not what I meant. I am asking why if you are headed there you have no idea about where you are going.”

Daring frowned. “If I knew, why would I be going there?”

A thin smile crossed Felt’s face. “A good answer. But ask your sister. She may not answer in the same way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Felt took another book from a different shelf. “I cannot say as to what you might find. This area was considered barely inhabitable until the Hissan Dynasty. What you could find might represent a culture completely lost to us. Something entirely unprecedented.”

Daring Do felt her pulse quicken at the very thought.

“The things we could find there...things that nopony’s ever seen, ever.”

Felt smiled. “Indeed.” He passed her the books he had gathered. “These are for you.”

Daring gasped. “Really?”

“It’s a library. You can take them home. Just bring them back later. Every good adventure requires a firm basis in theory, and research. Well, I suppose not every good adventure...but the adventurers that do not do their reading first usually do not last so long. Now, that clothing.”

He turned back to the rear of the library as Daring Do balanced the books between her wings. She followed Felt, and paused for a moment as she passed a small alcove. In it was a desk with a typewriter. A page was sticking out of it, but only barely.

“What is that?”

“Oh,” said Felt, sadly. “That is a project of mine. A memoir, I guess you could say.”

“Really? Wow, I bet you have a lot of stories, right?”

“I did, once.” Felt’s expression fell. “But I have lived many of your lifetimes. And my memories are fading. It is my greatest regret, not having recorded it while it is fresh. I have many friends and stories that are only shadows now, and I wish so badly that I could revisit them one more time. It is something I suppose one only sees in hindsight.” He paused for a moment, and then an idea seemed to strike him. He reached out and grasped a book in his magic. He held it out to Daring Do, along with a well of ink and a quill.

“What is this?”

“For you. It’s blank.”

“I’m not good at writing, I can’t--”

“Please, humor an old stallion. At least take it.”

Daring Do looked at him, and let him put the supplies on her pile of books. “Sure.”

Twilight Felt smiled. “Now, what is your chest size?”

Daring Do nearly dropped her books. “Wh—excuse me?!”

“I might need to resize the shirt.”

“O—oh...”

Felt laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you outfitted in a jiffy. It’s the least I can do for a fellow adventurer, after all.”
> Chapter 2: Getting In (and Out) of an Inn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The desert town had grown cold as night approached, although it was far from sleepy. Most ponies had simply returned to their homes, their windows lit by candles and lanterns. Others, though, had migrated to small restraints, sitting in the glow of their own lights as they talked and laughed. 	Daring Do, now dressed in a much more breathable collared shirt, watched them but did not approach. She had decided that they did not like her—and would not until she came back from their pyramid bearing every kind of new artifact and cultural knowledge she could get her hooves upon. It was what she had considered as she walked through the chilly streets. That they were afraid because they were unsure what existed in the south, but as soon as the new avenues of knowledge about their own culture were opened, Daring Do would find herself a hero. Perhaps she would even buy a house here, and she would have friends for the first time and be able to be in the restaurants at night. Or so was her fantasy, at least.  

She paused, looking up at the moon. It was full and bright, the craters in its surface forming the apparent face of a pony, always watching. Nearly every Equestrian culture had legends about the moon, and it was invariably considered evil—and yet the most powerful families of Singapone bore its symbol. Daring Do was not sure why. She had always found the orb distinctly peaceful.  

Something moved beside her, but Daring Do scarcely responded. Wun—as much as she would claim to the contrary—had a distinct smell, like moss and flowers. Daring Do had learned to recognize it at a very young age, as Wun made virtually no sound when she moved.  

“How did it go?”

“Excellent. I managed to purchase the cactus.” Wun held the prize aloft, now sitting in a clay pot and held firmly by her magic. “And I did not even need to puncture the camel. I shall plant it in my personal garden and name it Steve.”  

“And the supplies?”

“I do not need supplies right now. Only cactus.”  

Daring’s stomach groaned. She had not eaten since they arrived, apart from the free kebab, and that was hardly enough to keep her teenage metabolism sated for very long. “Maybe we should go back to them? They’re the only ones that will talk to us.”

“Ah. No. Not today.”

“Why?”

“Because right now is Wednesday night.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I find it unlikely that you will ever find out.” Wun brushed past her. “Regardless. I have grown tired. Now is a time to sleep.”

“I guess we can go back to the airship.” Daring Do looked into the distance, only to find that the port was on the far side of the city. She could barely see the spires in the dark sky and moonlight.  

“That will not be informative. I am, in part, responsible for your education. You have lived a remarkably sheltered life so far, and are very soft and mildly squishy.”

“If you’re going to start with the fat jokes--”

“You are not fat, just poorly formed. Very small. Not everypony is a pureblood unicorn as I am. You are...adequate? Brown. No. We ought to stay somewhere local.”

“How are we supposed to do that? Nobody will even talk to us.”

Wun began walking. “Every town has a place for foreigners and pariahs, as you are. We shall find it. Hence your education.”  



There was, indeed, a location. Outside of town, somewhat in the desert but lying not far from a batch of palm trees and a pleasant minor oasis. It was a building, one in the style of many of the others but with obvious influence of northern architecture. Something that had been built some time ago, possibly by early settlers or explorers from the north. Perhaps it had started as a place for ponies to stay, or perhaps something as mundane as a trading post for passing caravans—or both, even.  

Daring Do stopped and looked up at the sign over the door, written in several languages.  

“‘The Get Out Inn?’ That doesn’t sound very inviting.”

“Invitations are for the genetically weak. You can stay outside if you like.”  

Wun put her cactus near the door and entered the inn, and Daring paused for a moment before following her inside.

The inside was at least warm, and warmly lit. Immediately Daring Do felt some sense of comfort, a certain naturalness to it all. The way the space was open, with a bar in the rear and several tables set out beneath the low ceiling. There were spaces to sit, and stairs to the upper level, but exactly how it made her feel was truly difficult to describe. Having spent her entire life surrounded by nearly unfathomable wealth, it was one of the first times she had ever felt at home.  

The sensation did not entirely depart from her but changed somewhat when she saw the clientele seated at some of the tables. Her and Wun were clearly not the foreigners present. At one table, she saw a pair of donkeys in dusty robes, their conversation quieting as Wun entered and switching from Equestrian to Assyrian. On the far side of the room, sitting in a chair, she saw several ponies wrapped entirely in robes sitting beside a young stallion who was completely asleep in his chair, their eyes distant and empty. Nearest to the door sat a group of roguish individuals, with a heavyset earth pony in a wide-brimmed hat beside a thin Pegasus with a narrow mustache and a griffon hen with an eye-patch, her sword at her side.   

These were not locals, nor were they the sort that could rent space from the bunkhouses near the port. These were not the type who would sing and dance themselves to a peaceful sleep each night in the company of friends. These were a certain sleepless sort, the kind that made their wealth and one day met their ends in the wastes beyond the city’s reach.  

The presence of these rouges tickled something within Daring Do, but at the same time stirred within her a deep teenage anxiety. She felt the eyes, and felt them watching. As homelike as the place felt, suddenly she found herself feeling so very small. She was glad that Twilight Felt had given her a shirt that made her look at least like she was somewhat supposed to be there. Had she been alone, she doubted she could have entered. She would have just turned back and flown straight to her spacious bunk on the corsair.  

Wun, however, was incapable of reservations. She did not doubt and never hesitated. The eyes that Daring Do feared immediately turned to her, and Wun knew it. Daring Do did as well. It was something she had never been taught because it never needed to be. Wun was born to the Equestrian master race, and more than that was an apex of racial purity. As a pureblood unicorn, she expected attention, demanded it, even. Not consciously. It was simply expected, and she always received it. Wearing an ornate dress and carrying her parasol at her side only drew their attention more.  

In that, Daring Do felt a twinge of jealousy. It was a paradoxical emotion, because she did not want the attention. She was inherently shy—but she still felt jealous. That she, a young pale-brown Pegasus, would always be the less attractive sister. Male—or female, in the case of the griffon—attention would never be directed at her.  

Wun reached the bar, gracefully planting herself on one of the stools. Daring Do sat beside her. The barkeep, a middle-aged mare, did not seem especially enthused by their presence. Especially the fact that Wun very seldom blinked, and had a tendency to stare.  

“Is there something you want?” she asked.

Wun did not answer. Her eyes swiveled instead to Daring Do.

“Um—yes,” sputtered Daring. “We’d like to rent a room, if that’s okay? And get some food? If the kitchen’s still open. And something to drink, maybe?”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. “Do you have money?”

Daring Do fumbled with one of her pockets and produced a coin. She put it down on the counter. “Is that enough?”

The barkeep looked distinctly displeased. She looked down at the single, measly coin. “If that’s all you have, stop taking up space on...my...” A look of recognition passed behind her eyes, but she hid the emotion well. She stared more closely at the coin, and then looked up at the pair of foreigners with distinct distrust.  

“Is this a joke?”

“Um...no?”

“That’s a Singapone Rhen.”

“Yes. Why, is it not enough?”

“Not enough? No. I can’t make change for something that large. Word of advice, girl. Don’t flash coin like that around.” She pushed it back to Daring Do. “Find some real money.”

Wun produced a small glass vial filled with shards of a silvery metal. “This will cover it.”

The barkeep looked at it, and then took it, turning to the kitchen. “Freaks,” she said, under her breath.  

Daring felt her face growing warm. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

“Yes. I found it comical. Perhaps if you had studied monetary conversions in addition to father’s books, you would not have made this mistake. Or perhaps if you were smarter.”  

Daring pushed Wun’s side, causing her stool to swivel. Wun smiled, rotating slowly. As she did, Daring noticed that some of the other ponies had stood. Specifically, the earth pony in the hat and his friends. They had stood, and they were approaching the bar.

The narrow Pegasus sat beside Daring Do, reeking of stale cider and sweat. He smiled, revealing precious few teeth and a large gold one. The griffon hen sat next to Wun, and the earth pony approached from behind.  

Daring Do felt her heart racing. She was afraid—but also disturbingly excited. She could feel it in her wings, an uncontrolled ruffling. Something interesting was about to happen.

Wun apparently felt nothing and continued to revolve on her stool’s well-greased bearings. Then the earth pony eventually stopped her, so that she was facing him.  

“Stop that,” he said.

“I just did.”  

The earth pony’s eyes narrowed. “You’re new here,” he growled. “So, fine. Maybe you don’t know the rules.”

“I am not a fan of such things. A waste of effort, really.”  

“Shut up. Let me spell it out through you, so you’re sure to get it past that piece of bone sticking out of your face. We don’t like your kind here.”

“Attractive mares?” Wun’s large eyes swiveled to the griffon beside her. “Ah. I see.”  

“Excuse me?!” The griffon ruffled.  

“Not mares,” snapped the earth pony. “Witches. Unicorns. Especially Japony ones.”

Several glasses violently exploded behind the bar, causing the barkeep to jump. Daring Do stiffened. This was definitely on the verge of getting interesting.

“Considering that Japonies are Pegasi, what would make you think I am such? I could see my sister, as no one knows who her mother was. But I am quite clearly NOT.”

The earth-pony leaned in close. “You’ve got the curvy horn, and the squinty eyes. So get out of my bar.”  

Daring Do sat up suddenly. “You son of a horse--”

She was shoved back into her seat by the Pegasus beside her. Despite his thin figure, he was wiry.

“Daring, show some decorum,” sighed Wun. She faced the earth-pony, whose face was now inches from hers. She smiled. “Do you feel jealousy over the length and hardness of my horn? Does it perhaps remind you of your father’s?”

The earth pony’s eyes narrowed. “My father was an earth pony. I’m pure--”

“Yes, I am sure that is what your mother told him, and he was a fool enough to believe it. Of course he was, seeing as he could not tell that his wife was one of...well, them.” Wun pointed her horn toward the table of donkeys. One stood up suddenly.

“HEY! I resemble that comment!”  

“Are you calling me a mule?!” hissed the earth pony.

“No. Mules are warm, snugly, and sterile. You are only one of those things.”  

Daring Do tried to suppress laughter, but snorted. It was clearly not the correct thing to do.  

“Fine,” snapped the earth pony, suddenly smiling. “We were going to be friendly and let you go outside where you belong, and maybe only take half your coin. Now I’ll have all of it...and that curved horn of yours.”

He moved swiftly, reaching for something beneath his coat. Daring Do moved too, giving the stallion beside her a hoof to a place where no stallion would like to receive a hoof. She was too slow, though, and saw the griffon beside Wun reaching for her sword.

Then it was over in an instant. Everything surrounding them seemed to move, surrounded in green magic. The griffon’s sword leapt from her hand and the earth pony yipped as his tail was removed, and then froze as the tip of the sword was put against the joint between his skull and first vertibra. The knife he had been reaching for was levitated and flung against the Pegasus’s right wing, and the shards of glass that Wun had broken earlier appeared in a ring around the griffon hen’s neck.   

“Another separation between myself and the Japonies,” mused Wun. “I loathe bladed weapons. They occupy a region of distinct mediocrity. A point where a pony is too mentally underdeveloped to use magic, but too weak to use his own hooves. A toy for children and a tool of incompetent cowards.”

The silent air was suddenly filled with a distinct thwip, and Daring felt something pass through her mane. Wun’s magic flashed, grabbing the crossbow bolt out of the air inches from her eye. Daring, now suddenly shaking violently, turned around slowly and saw the barkeep holding a crossbow.  

“The next one is dimeritium. Unless you’re a vedmak, it won’t miss.”  

“Have I done something wrong?”

The barkeep pointed to a large sign. “No fighting,” she said, not even looking at it. “Number one rule. The ONLY rule. Do you know how expensive it is to replace furniture? I don’t want some loud-mouth rich kid to wreck my whole front room. OUT. You’re banned. You’re all banned!”

Wun stared at her, and then snapped the bolt in her magic. “As you wish,” she said. “I accept the terms of these rules.”  

She released the other ponies and the griffon, and stood form her stool. Then she immediately began undressing, removing her dress and stockings and folding them neatly. She gave them and her parasol to Daring Do and stood in the room completely nude save for a thin silver chain around her neck adorned with a disturbingly cut blue-green gemstone.   

“I will be sleeping outside, then.”

“Wun, don’t--”

“It is not a problem. I saw the sign and accepted this outcome.”

She began walking toward the door. Daring sighed and slid off her stool, only to be stopped by a hoof on her shoulder.

“Not you,” sighed the barkeep.

“Not...me?”

“Yes not you, are you deaf? You hardly did anything at all, and I’m not about to put a girl your age out on the street on a night like this. In this town, you’ll get eaten alive.” She paused, looking at the male Pegasus, now in the fetal position on the floor and silently screaming. “And next time, aim for the gut.”

“Because that was rude?”

“No. Because if he closed his leg’s he’d of caught your hoof.” She sighed. “You can stay here as long as you want. As long as you need to. But not her.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. And don’t fight in my hotel.” She looked up to the griffon and the earth pony, who were inching toward your seats. “And you! I already gave you a warning! Get out! OUT!”

“But—but—the spiders!” whimpered the griffon.

“I don’t care, it’s your own fault! Get out of my inn!” They started to move, the griffon picking up the wounded Pegasus from the floor. “AND,” said the barkeep. “Just so you know? The ones like her, with the pointy teeth? They can see in the dark. So watch yourselves.”

“Wait, what?”

“OUT!”  

Begrudgingly, the group left, and the rest of the patrons went back to what they were doing.  

“Mercenaries,” growled the barkeep. “Third-rate hacks. The group that came through two weeks ago, THOSE were mercenaries.” She blushed slightly. Then she sighed. “Let me show you to your room. With a sister like that, you probably need to sleep. For a long time. I’ll bring you up some food later.”

Daring Do sighed. She was, indeed, tired, and profoundly so.  




The room was not spacious or cavernous like every room she was familiar with. There was a wooden floor that creaked when she walked on it, and the carpet on it felt warm. There was a bed, and a desk, and a window.  

Daring Do approached the window and looked out. The lights in the city were being turned out, but in the light of the moon she saw Wun, standing in the middle of a sandy field with her cactus. Wun turned and waved to her, then lay down in the sand. She wriggled in a serpentine motion and in an instant had vanished beneath the surface of the sand. Then everything was still as she proceeded to wait.  

Daring sighed and sat down at the desk. There was a small light filled with southern fireflies. Their glow was strange, but comforting. 

She produced her pile of books and set them down. The one on the top was the blank one. She took it out and opened it, staring at the page. She opened the bottle of ink and smelled it. It smelled like ink, and she liked the smell.  

She sat for another several minutes before she started, trying her best to write what had happened to her. It took her the better part of an hour, but she stopped halfway through and sat back, groaning.

It was all wrong. Her own character was too weak and boring, and the setting had been so grand she was having a hard time putting it into words. She had even tried to write part of a fight scene with Wun, but it just came out muddled and confusing. She had no confidence in what she had written, and knew it was terrible and inadequate. She leaned forward, took the quill in her mouth, and scratched out the whole thing.  

Putting her head down for a second, she groaned and then pushed the book away. Maybe writing was not for her after all. Instead, she took the thinnest book from the pile and opened it.

“‘Unicorns: Fact or Fiction?’”  she read, reading from the title. It sounded like an interesting enough work, and it was the only one written in Equestrian. She of course knew the languages of the others, her father had made sure of that—but this would be the easiest to get through quickly.   

She turned the page in the book and began taking notes. That was at least something she knew how to do.
> Chapter 3: Pegasi Hate Biplanes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was up, and Daring Do literally flew down the stairs, landing at the base. The bar was already empty, except for a stallion sleeping curled up on an ottoman and the barkeep poking him with a stick.  

She turned to Daring. “Do you want to buy any breakfast? I’ll give it to you half-price, twenty bits per egg.”

“No time! We’ve got to catch a flight!”

“Flight? It’s sandstorm season, there’s no way--”

By the time she had finished, Daring Do was already out the door, her books left safely in her room but her journal filled with her notes at her side, along with Wun’s clothing.

Almost as soon as she exited into the early-morning sun, she heard a piercing scream. A young mare carrying a bucket in her magic ran by, terrified.  

“It grabbed me! Oh sweet Ra’s slappable bum, it GRABBED ME!”  

Daring stared, confused, and then looked to see exactly what she should have expected. Wun was standing there, brushing the sand from herself and chewing on something exceedingly crunchy. Something crunch that had long, insectoid legs sticking from her mouth.  

“Did you just grab a filly?”

“It’s instinct,” said Wun, continuing to crunch. “When I was your age, father sent me to Kludgetown to see if I could find my way back. Sleeping in the sand kept you from getting stole. Plus, you learn to listen for the moisture beetles when they run by in the morning. That is how you prevent dehydration.” She slurped the legs into her mouth and swallowed. “However, the fauna is different here. Mostly camel spiders.”  

Daring Do shivered. She disliked spiders, but at least they were not snakes. 

“The trick is not to swallow them whole,” said Wun. “I have already learned something today.” 

Daring Do shivered again and passed Wun her clothing. “So I take it you don’t need breakfast?”

Wun stared in the direction the young mare had run. “Well, it escaped.” Daring Do stared at her aghast, and Wun stared back. “That is a joke, Daring.”

“It’s hard to tell with you.”

“Yes. That is what makes it funny.” She took her clothing in her magic. “Now that you are rested--”
“The southern airfield,” said Daring Do, already taking flight. “I know, we need to get going!”

“Excited, I see. That is good. I am as well.” Wun dressed herself quickly and unfolded her parasol. “However, life is long. I have no need to rush.”

Daring Do rolled her eyes, because of course there was no NEED. But she had only grown more excited as she read through the texts and their descriptions of strange and ancient things, and as she lay sleepless she had envisioned all the artifacts she might find, fantasizing of incredible adventures in her head. Artifacts that would soon have a place in the Perr-Synt private museum, a monument to her ability and heroism.  

She was sure that if given her level of excitement, she could fly all the way to the excavation site on her own.  




“You have to be joking.”  

The pilots laughed, one of them even falling off his chair and rolling under their shared table.  

“Why not?” snapped Daring Do. “I could do it!”

The eldest of the pilots leaned forward in his chair. “You want to pull a cart, down that far? No. No you can’t. The atmosphere down there is nothing but storms. Every day, and every night. No jetstream, no clean path. A Pegasus can’t make it, a camel can’t walk it, nobody can go that far.”

“You can’t land either,” said another. Like the first, he wore the garb and glowpaz of a local. “The Red Desert has nothing in it. No water. And everywhere you land? Tazlewurms. Thousands of them. There’s more airships in that desert than there are submarines in the sky.”  

“Relathor would beg to differ,” said another.

"Quiet, you." 

“We paid to have the weather maintained,” snapped Wun, her normally cool demeanor growing strained in the growing heat. 

“And look?” one of the pilots pointed upward. “It’s fine. But not out there. Nopony controls weather in the Red Desert. You can’t. That’s where the storms live.” 

“Then we take the corsair,” said Daring Do, her own composure completely lost.

More laughter. Another pilot slid under the table. “That big fancy yacht? Something that big, you’re coxswain better be made of solid steel.”

One of the Pilots, a pale Pegaus, laughed along with the others—although seemed to remain more sympathetic. “You can’t get a big ship trough. It’s just too dangerous. And you can’t fly a cart, either. You need somebody who knows what they're doing.”

“And,” snapped the elder pilot, “nopony here is going to help you.”

“We paid in advance--”

“And pay doesn’t matter. Nopony here will help you. No one in the Association is willing to take the...risk.” He smiled at them. “Just go home. It’s all you can do now.”

“Unless you want to walk it,” laughed another. “Or, if you’d rather end it quickly, ask Cretin.”

He pointed to a hanger far from the others, one that was really more of barn. A barn that had almost entirely collapsed some time ago. This caused the entire group to erupt in gut-busting laughter, as if that were the most absurd thing they had ever heard.  

“Come on, lads,” said the leader, standing up. “We have mail to deliver. A nice, reasonable use of our time.”

Still snickering, the group stood up, walking off to their own hangers and to their respective balloons and vehicles. Only the white Pegasus remained, himself standing and brushing himself off.

“Hey,” he said, approaching Daring Do. “I’m new here, so I don’t know all of it...but no one here is going to take you. It’s something between them. Nopony every goes south. It’s a rule. I’m really sorry. If it were a calmer season, maybe I could try...but the Association...”

“So you’re not going to help is what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying that you...well, don’t even try. None of us will take you. We can’t. It’s better that way. Whatever down there, they’re terrified of it. And it’s not the wurms. I didn’t even think there was something worse, but I guess there is.”

“Thanks for nothing, then.”

“Look, I’m just trying to help.” He sighed and started to turn away—but then stopped. “And, seriously, for the love of Celestia’s squishy tushy, don’t talk to Cretin. You seriously would have better luck walking.”  

He waved, and then flew away to his own craft, a thin airship tethered to one of the smaller masts throughout the strip.

Daring sighed, and then swore.

“Horsefeathers! Son’s of horses who were daughters of DONKEYS!”

“Language, Daring.”

“You can suck a lemon, Wun, I’m not happy right now!”

“Do not tell me what to do. I will suck whatever I please.” She turned and started walking, leaving the shade of the outbuilding where the pilots had been having their morning tea.  

“How did we get the crew there the last time?” asked Daring Do.

“They used a skiff. Privately crewed. It was not storm season then, I suppose.” She sighed. “I had assumed we would not need to take one again, seeing as we have only ourselves and no cargo. I seem to have miscalculated.”  

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I think that ought to be clear. Since they are ignorant fools, we do exactly the opposite of what they have suggested.”

Daring Do realized that they were headed toward the collapsed barn. She immediately had a bad feeling. 




As soon as she opened the door, she should have known from the smell. The strange scent like sweet manuer. It was a smell she should have known. Now, as she looked at the body on the floor, she felt the urge to spill her oats. She turned away and retched.  

Wun stood impassive, staring at the pony. “From the look of him, I would say he has been here for several weeks.”  

“How can you just—oh Celestia—”

Wun pointed at the bottles covering the stallion. “It looks like he met his end by being crushed by those. We can only hope it was quick. Or else he would be trapped here, in this sweltering heat. Trapped. Unable to move.”

“Wun, just stop.” Daring Do stared at the still pony, and the flies swarming around him. “Should we...I don’t know, bury him?”

The pony suddenly sat up, the bottles clinking around him as his eyes opened. “For Celestia’s sake, if you sons of horses try to bury me in that anthill again--”

Daring Do squeaked in terror, and Wun fired off a bolt of magic, striking the pony in the chest with a surge of green magic and sending him skittering across the dirt floor and into a nearby wall.  

“WUN!”

“I thought he was undead! I thought there was necromancy afoot!”  

“None of that necro-romancing here!” snapped the stallion, barely managing to rise to his feet. He swayed severely, seeming to be largely supported by the flies surrounding him. He was an earth-pony, clad in an old bomber jacket. His coat was gray—probably—and when he looked at Wun, he also looked at Daring Do. Neither of his eyes faced the same direction.  

“Who are you and where am I?” he demanded. He picked up a bottle of punch that had been sitting out for some time and drained it without even apparently swallowing. This only caused his swaying to increase. “And why is it hot? Did I not pay the AC bill again?” One of his eyes looked up. “Oh. Probably not. I don’t pay for anything. That’s what the government is for. That’s why I keep invoices.” He pointed to a pile of paper airplanes with muddled text written on them. “Then I fling them at the sun, because that’s where Celetia’s house is.”  

Daring Do winced. “Are you Cretin?”

The pony stopped swaying, and his derped eyes narrowed. “What did you just call me? It’s not my fault I don’t have any iodine! Iodine is a government conspiracy! It derps us! That’s why there’s four of you right now, because iodine...that I drank...” He pointed to a pile of first aid supplies. The bandages were all still intact. The antiseptic was totally empty.  

“Who you are does not matter much,” said Wun. “Can you fly?”

“Can I fly? Can I fly?!” He paused. “Can I fly?”

“Can you?” asked Daring Do.

“Of course I can fly! I’m a Pegasus, aren’t I?!”

Daring Do and Wun both looked at his back. There were no wings there.

“Um...but you have no wings.”

“Of course I don’t! Because I lost them in the WAR!” The pony began wobbling his way to the center of the hanger, where something was held under a stained tarp.  

“You were in a war? Which one? The changeling rebellions?”

“Or the Assyrian border conflicts,” suggested Wun. “Or the griffon insurrection of 49, perhaps? Or the third Equestrian War?”

“What do I look like, a guy who can read?! I don’t know what any of those are!” He pointed to his back, nearly falling over in the process. “I lost them in the war with Nightmare Moon you idiots!”

Daring Do groaned, following after him. “First, Nightmare Moon isn’t real. She’s a mythological figure as part of the Celestine creation myth. Second, the MYTH of the war sets it one thousand years ago. And you’re not that old.”

“What do I look like, a guy who owns a calendar?!”  

Wun pointed at the wall. A calendar about four years out of date—with a picture of a pale unicorn in nothing but socks—was hanging askew, pinned through the wall with a bayonet. Wings had been drawn on her back with crayon.   

“Stop correcting me! I control reality, not you! Also, I ate that crayon, so you can’t change the picture now! It tasted like purple...”  

He took the edge of the tarp and pulled it away, falling on his back in the process. As the tarp fell away, Daring Do understood that her bad feeling had been entirely correct.

Under the tarp was something that looked like it had once been a biplane. Whatever it was, now, though, could hardly be called a vehicle. It seemed to consist entirely of rust and tape, and even as Daring Do watched part of one of the wings fell off.

“I’ve been overturned!” cried Cretin, waving his feet in the air. “I am  upset!”

Wun levitated him and flipped him over. Cretin immediately began to dog-paddle before he was set down. 

“Does this thing actually fly?”

“Does Nightmare Moon drink moonshine?” Cretin approached what resembled the output to an electric dryer—or several—but that was apparently the engine. He lifted up a bottle of punch, drank half the contents, and poured the rest into the fuel tank. “Which direction are you going?”

“South.”

“South is a good direction. It’s like north, but the other way.”

“And you don’t have a problem with that?”

“No. I go south all the time. Or at least I wake up there. Near the freaky pyramid thing.”

Daring Do’s eyes lit up. “You’ve seen it?”

“I can’t see nothing! Never did, never will! Legally blind! What are you, the tax collector?”

He approached the door to the barn and pushed it. It fell off the rusted hinges and collapsed entirely. Then he walked back to the biplane and grasped the propeller, turning it sharply and throwing it downward. He collapsed under it, and Wun barely pulled him away in time for it to start rotating.

The engine sputtered and backfired, and then the propeller started turning on its own. It was the first time Daring Do had ever even seen a biplane that was not in a museum. She had hoped the experience would not be so terrifying.   

“Hey, what do you know, no fire this time,” mused Cretin as he was set back down and nearly wobbled back into his own propeller before Wun pulled him away and placed him farther. This, though, placed him near more punch, which he promptly drank.  

Wun looked at Daring Do, and Daring Do at Wun.  

“You have wings,” said Wun. “You can eject if you need to. I can’t.” 

“You want to get there, don’t you?” Daring Do put her hoof to her face and muttered to herself. “I can’t believe I’m saying this...”

Wun considered for a moment. “If it is the only way.” She looked to Cretin, who had once again become upset, his feet flailing in the air. “How much do you charge?”

“The spark plugs run on twelve volts, but I only ever use one-point-one because that’s the only voltage it darn well needs!”  

“Do you eat paint chips or just drink it from the can?”

“You mix them together, like cereal!”  

Wun sighed. “Well, at least I am sure he resists radiation. I say this is our best shot. Storm season will only grow greater. Our window grows narrow.”

Daring Do groaned. “Wun. You’re supposed to be the voice of reason and convince me not to do stupid things.”

“Since when have I ever done that?” Wun collapsed her parasol and began to climb into the rear seat of the biplane.

Daring Do sighed, and then, against all better judgment, found herself doing the same.
> Chapter 4: Guardians of the Black Pyramid
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ponies, as equines, did not have knuckles. If Daring Do had been born a creature which did posses such an anatomical appendage, though, hers would have been white.  

She was a Pegasus. She had spent most of her life flying. Never before had she realized just how terrifying it could be.

The plane shook. Not because of the storms raging around it, though. It had done that on the ground too. The storms, though, were not much help, especially when parts of the vehicle occasionally flew off it.  

And yet, as they moved, Daring understood why it was necessary. At least in an academic sense.

The desert stretched out below her, a vast sea of nothingness. Dunes of sand, and the occasional swirls of vast things moving beneath the surface, following the shadow of the rickety biplane. The air was hot, thin, and dusty, but most importantly swirling about them. Cretin, despite wearing a pair of goggles so scratched that his derpy eyes probably could see next to nothing, flew with a level of practiced expertise that Daring scarcely had imagined such a stallion could muster. That, or pure instinct. Or perhaps dumb luck.

There were channels in the storm, patterns cast by its motion over the dunes and the occasional curved, rocky crags that jutted out of the desert and seemed to rise out of the dusty air like specters. Cretin knew every one of them, and knew which path to take. He knew how to fly below the storm when he needed to, and when he had to pass through it he knew how not to get lost.

The noise was almost unbearable, and then, suddenly, the engine fell to a dull roar. Daring Do felt her breath catch, sure that it would be her last, but then saw that they were not falling to the rocks and dunes below. Her Pegasus instincts then informed her that they had struck an updraft. Cretin had cut his engine partially to keep them from stalling—or run out of fuel, possibly.  

Daring took a breath. Below her, somewhat in the fuselage, Wun was coiled around her feet, asleep and purring. Daring was unsure if it was a stress response or if her sister really was that certain of her own immortality. She was, at the very least, helping to plug an exhaust leak.  

“Hey,” called Daring Do, over the noise of the engine.

“Huh? What? Where?” Cretin released the controls, causing the plane to dip. Daring Do felt her stomach turn, but he grabbed them.  

“May Celestia poke you in your down with a stick!”  he cried. “Don’t tell me there’s hay unless you actually have it!”   

Daring took another dusty breath. “How many times have you made this trip?”

“I don’t know numbers! And I only trip because somepony keeps moving my coffee table! Well, I keep moving my coffee table...” He stared out at the dust, and made a minor course correction just as the air wavered with turbulence. “Lots of times,” he said, guessing. “I have friends there.”

“Friends?”

“Yes! Friends are important! Unless you’re Celestia and can use all the Elements at once! I didn’t like them at first, but they’re not like the others. I think they skipped over that part, that’s my guess.”  

“Are you insane, or do you just have brain damage?”

“I’m immortal. Also the drain bramage. They said that would happen.”  

The plane dipped again, dropping into a different path of air where the tailwind was not so severe.  

“What’s down there?” called Daring, over the noise of the engine. “In the south?”

Cretin shrugged. “Big pyramid. I don’t like it. It’s looks back at you when you look at it. They don’t like it either. I think they like it less than I do.”  

The plane began to slide upward. The sand below had turned from a dull color to a disturbing red—and was quickly giving way to rocks of an equally disturbing color, a nameless and indeterminate near-black.  

“What...what is that?”

“The mountain range. We’re almost there. Now comes the interesting part.”	

“Interesting? Why interesting?”

“Well, we have to get down there somehow.”

“Why?” Daring Do felt herself stiffen. “Is their landing strip okay?” She felt her heart race. “Please tell me they have a landing strip!”

“Well...that’s not really the problem.”

“Then what is?!”

Cretin turned around. “I never learned to land.”

Daring Do felt her heart drop. “Wh..what?”

“They only trained me to start the plane, and then point it at Nightmare Moon and try to ram it into her stupid alicorn face! Why would I ever need to learn to land? Are you telling me my education isn’t good enough?!”

“YES!”

“Well you’re the one who got in a plane with a guy named ‘Impact Crater’!”

“Your name is IMPACT CRATER?! I thought you were named Cretin!”

“Cretin? No, that’s just what that horde of orange-scented weirdos call me on account of the iodine. Seriously, use your thinking squelcher! What kind of a parent would name their kid ‘Cretin’?”

“What kind of parents would name their kid ‘Impact Crater’?!”

“Why are you yelling?” asked Wun, poking her head up from the inside of the fuselage. She looked around. “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet!” shouted Cretin, pulling back on the stick. It broke off in his hooves. “Correction! We’re about to be there, real quick!”  

“Wun! We have to jump! NOW!”

“I shall not. There is gravity out there.”

“There’s gravity in HERE, and it’s about to get us!”  

The plane tilted downward, facing the ground. The dust storm grew even stronger as it lost control, and it began to spiral. Daring do sat up, trying to get a sense of which way was up. If she jumped, she could probably support Wun, but she would need to know a course. The spiral would likely throw her out, and she had no way to know if there were rocks our mountains. Compensating would be almost impossible.  

She did not have a chance to make the decision. With barely an impressive sound but more of a weak, defeated thump, the plane landed propeller-first in the sand.  

Green light flashed, and Daring Do suddenly found herself thrown forward and onto the sand. Instead of being smashed against it, the bubble rebounded, bouncing several times before coming to a rest, Daring Do sliding down the inside surface, her entire body shaking from exertion and terror. Wun, suspended in an inverted position in the center of her own bubble spell, looked down at her.  

“I cannot help but wonder if I was as ridiculously anxious at your age.” She popped the bubble, turning over gracefully and landing on her feet. “You will grow very wrinkly very quickly if you keep worrying about small things like dying.”  

Daring Do, now laying face-down in the red sand, muttered into it. “You could have warned me you were going to bubble.”

“I bubble when and where I chose to bubble.” Wun dusted herself off. “And now I have had a pleasant six-hour nap. Shall we retrieve the pilot?”

Daring Do sat up. “Sweet Celestia, I forgot about him.”

She ran to the area where the broken wreck of the plane now sat, smoldering in its own sadness and leaking fluids. Cretin had been ejected with substantial force and had landed several yards away. He was buried up to his waist in sand, his rear legs flailing in silence.  

“How are you even alive?! HOW?!” Daring Do grabbed one of his legs and tried to pull him out. He was embedded firmly, though, and Wun had to use her magic to extricate him.

When Cretin emerged, he coughed out several mouthfuls of sand. Then, with much greater force, coughed harder and produced a half-full bottle of punch which he promptly caught. He smiled, drinking it. “I didn’t even get hit with the propeller this time. That’s always the worst. It always aims for the same spot.”

“I don’t want to know!” shouted Daring Do.

“Why are you yelling!”

“What is wrong with you!?”

“Several things, clearly,” said Wun, dropping the stallion into the dust. “Alas, we do seem to be here. Or relatively close to here.”  

Daring looked around. The air was thick with sand and dust, but it was oddly still—and oddly dark.

“What...what’s wrong with this?” she asked, looking up at the sky. “We didn’t leave that late, and the dust isn’t that thick. Why can’t I see the sun?”

“Because the sun doesn’t come this far,” said Cretin, pointing. Daring Do followed his hoof to the horizon, where a thin crimson line was visible on the far side of a vast range of mountains, barely visible through the dust. “It’s always dark here. Especially at night.” 

“Why...how is that even possible?”

“You may file a complaint with the department of Celestia,” snapped Cretin. “I do not handle that department anymore! Not since...the accident...”  

“We’re not alone,” said Wun.

Daring Do groaned. “Why does it keep getting worse?”

She heard the sound of mechanisms being cocked, and the sudden noise of cloth ruffling. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the shadow of the black mountains, she saw figures emerge from the dust. At first, they seemed monstrous and alien, but as they drew nearer, Daring Do knew the situation was even worse. They were not monsters. They were griffons.  

The soldiers, clad in various uniforms taken from the kit of various nations and various sources, their flags stripped and replaced with their own crudely-sewn patches, stepped forward. Some of them held swords, but most held blunderbusses of various sorts. Daring Do recoiled instinctively. Although the griffons did not object to such things, as a pony firearms made her deeply and profoundly uneasy.  

The griffons stood for a moment, and then one pushed through, nearly throwing the others out of his way.

“In the name of your mother-hen’s own unscoooped litter, why don’t you clear me a path? I hope a unicorn gives each of your mother’s a poke, you pullets!”  

He emerged from the group, stepping toward Wun with impunity. He stopped only a moment to shake his fist at the rest of them. “And I mean the SAME unicorn! Because that’s what you all deserve!”  

Daring stared at the griffon. She was not sure why. He looked rather unpleasant.

He was, she supposed, vulturine in character. In any event, the years had not been kind to him, and his face and head had balded almost completely, save for a few long feathers that still clung to the back. This was only compounded by one of his eyes being badly scarred and clouded.  

He wore an Assyrian fez, a sign that on a donkey would have signified an officer, and a uniform  with bandoleers thrown over the front.  

“For the sake of your own slapped pony hams, do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?!”

“Captain Gruff,” said Wun, tilting her head slightly. She sounded rather amused.  

Daring Do gaped. “Wait, you know them?”

“Lower your blunderholes, you bunch of fat cocks!” yelled the captain to the others. “She’s the one paying us! Nobody put a hole in her! Nobody even TALK to her, because you lot’ll say something right stupid if you open your darn crooked beaks! Don’t even look at her!”

“These are the mercenaries I hired to secure my investment,” said Wun, calmly. “Supposedly some of the very best in the business.”

“Best? Why, I’ve been in more wars than you could count on all your hooves!”

“Four?”

“NO! More than that!” He pointed to himself. “I fought in the third Assyrian border conflict! FOUR times! On both sides!”   

“Both?” asked Daring.

Gruff released a wheeze that was probably meant as laughter and rubbed his index claw against his thumb. “Because the Equestrian’s took a little longer to figure out exactly how much good help is supposed to cost. I’ve been fighting in wars since before you both were alive.”

“I doubt that,” said Wun. “Regardless, you are here. And not guarding my pyramid.”

Gruff’s expression darkened. “Well. Yes. That’s the problem. And...sorry for my language, miss.  But if you follow me, I’ll brief you.”

Gruff started walking. Wun looked to Daring Do, and then motioned for her to follow him. Daring, though hesitant, did so.  

“Now, see, they took us by surprise,” muttered Gruff, clearly displeased. “Came out in the night. Attacked the camp. For the sake of my mother’s bald face, I frankly hadn’t thought they were even real. That they all gave up and went back to Tartarus or wherever they came from.”  

“Who attacked you?” asked Daring Do, suddenly both much more apprehensive and interested.

“Locals. Beyond that, don’t ask, because I don’t know.”

“I had hired you to protect the archeological team,” said Wun, slowly. 

“And that we darn well did, thank you very much! We had to retreat. They overran us. A total ambush. We barricaded ourselves on the skiff. Tried to take it back, but they did something to it. Pulled the engine. Darn their mother’s soups, we didn’t even see them do it!” He paused. “I think they don’t want us to leave.”

“Is the team intact?”

“Limp-wristed eggheads, the lot. Sure. But shaken. For the price you’re paying, I won’t leave a pony behind. Not even the fat ones.” He paused and looked out into the dust. In the distance, Daring Do could see the mass of the skiff, itself keeling to one side and embedded in the deep-red sand. Several griffons had been posted around it, staring through their goggles into the mist. Waiting.  

“They don’t like the guns,” continued Gruff. “A few blank loads and maybe some wooden shot keeps them off, but I don’t know for how long.”

“Why not use real shot?”

Daring gasped. “Wun!”

Gruff frowned deeply. “Never tell them I said this,” he said, quietly, “but there’s some things I can’t be paid to do. That’s why I’ve made it this far.”

“I can increase the price.”

“It’s not a matter of the price, darn it, it’s a matter of results. Sure, we could send lead into that dust. Maybe even wing one. But there’s more of them than us, and if you kick off a war, you can kiss that darn freak pyramid goodbye.”  

Wun stared at him for a long while. “I admire your prudence,” she said, at last. “What do you recommend I do, captain?”

“Above my pay grade, miss. You’re the boss here.”

Wun smiled. “Another correct answer. How I do enjoy you, even if you are hideous.”  

Gruff smiled. “To one of you soft horse-folk, sure. But hens love a battle scar or two. Dragon ladies too.”  

Daring Do shuddered.  

Wun pointed her horn toward one particular direction. “The center. The pyramid. It is that way.”

“How could you know--”

“Yeah,” sighed Gruff. “And frankly, it’s a crock, I tell you. Ugly thing. And that’s from me.”

Wun hummed to herself. A slight, old tune. “Yes, then. Please call some of your griffons. I intend to address these...interlopers.”

“You heard her, you soft and fluffy pullets!” cried Gruff, suddenly loud enough to make Daring Do jump. “I know you’ve been straining your freakish bird ear-holes! Vacation’s over, time to get back to work!”

“Yes captain!” they called, quickly taking flight and joining him.  

Daring hesitantly followed Wun, as always. She was not sure where this was going, but did not see much other choice.

“Did any of you keep an inventory past my packing manifest?”

“Geiger!”

A distinctly psittacine griffon dressed in faded fatigues and glasses so thick his eyes were invisible behind them appeared at Wun’s side, passing her a clipboard. Wun took it in her magic, her large eyes quickly scanning the contents.  

“You keep excellent records.”

“What do you expect?” huffed Gruff. “We’re griffons, not earth ponies. If something’s valuable, you can bet your tuckus we counted it!”

Wun passed the manifest back to Geiger. “Is it current?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, largely through his large beak.  

“Excellent. Now I have leverage.”  

Daring Do did not understand this, but did not have time to question it. Suddenly the dust around them cleared as they stepped free of the storm.

Upon seeing it, Daring Do felt her jaw drop. The vista before her was grand and terrible beyond anything she could ever have dreampt or conceived, even in all the books she had poured through in perpetration for her arrival, both in Singapone and in her hotel room.

The storm circled slowly around them, moving in a vast ring. The mountains that Daring had landed on were part of a vast range, and at the lower altitudes the black crags parted into what her mind conceived of as a great crater. At the very bottom, lower than the surrounding desert by far, sat a depression of blood-red sand.  

And, in the distance, miles away, Daring could see it. Her whole body immediately shivered, although she was not sure with what emotion. In the center of those darkened blood-red sands stood something monolithic and as black as a moonless night.  

She was so enraptured by the sight of the crater-valley and its contents that she failed to notice the sudden emergence of silent figures from the rocks that adorned the higher levels. With barely any sunlight, they seemed to come as if from the shadows themselves, or from the dust that permeated the air. Equine figures moving noiselessly, clad fully in drifting robes, their faces only marked by narrow goggles and crude, primitive respirators fashioned to resemble gaping maws.    

By the time Daring Do noticed them, they had already drawn close. Ominous, terrible figures, each carrying weapons of various sorts. Spears made from blackened wood and tipped with copper were the most common, although the largest of them, their apparent leader, wore a scabbard on his back. It was not empty; the large golden loop of a sword hilt poked from the end, next to his head.  

The leader stopped before Wun as the others closed in. The griffons gripped their blunderbusses tightly, waiting for an order or for any provocation. Only then did Daring Do fully comprehend the tension, and how badly she had just wandered into it.  

Wun, however, seemed only mildly bemused. “Do you speak Equestrian?” she asked.

“We speak it well enough, foreigner,” replied the leader. His voice was something like a quiet rasp, distorted even more so through his mask. He had an accent completely unlike that of the Southern Equestrians. Daring Do had never heard one like it. It was as though speaking were gravely difficult for him, and required great effort.  

“You attacked my employees.”

“We defended ourselves from incursion, outlander. The sounds of their guns hurts us, but does not afear us. Not this well.”

“And yet you damaged my skiff. To prevent them from leaving. Perhaps you intended to make sure they never did?”

Daring saw the griffons gripping their guns more tightly.  

“To prevent them from retrieving more. More reinforcements. More guns.” 

“And yet I am here.”

“Yes. How is unclear to us.”

“That was me, your Honor!” cried Cretin, causing both Daring Do and several griffons to jump. He had apparently been following them the entire time, and apparently had not fallen down or gotten stuck for the duration of the journey. “	

“Kraton! Even you would betray us?!” hissed the leader, removing his mask. The pony beneath was apparently severely displeased—if he even was a pony at all.

His coat was exceedingly dark, almost black, and his eyes desperately pale yellow with thin, vertical slits for pupils. As he snarled at Cretin, Daring Do saw that some of his teeth were pointed.  

“Thestrals,” she said, suddenly. “You’re thestrals!”

At her word, many more suddenly appeared, emerging from the rocks. Daring Do suddenly found the griffons outnumbered ten to one by ponies who she now saw bore dark, featherless wings. Even with their firearms, there was no way they stood a chance if this went bad.  

“You wanted here, didn’t you?” said Cretin.  

The leader growled, annoyed. Then his yellow eyes turned to Wun.  

“I have been waiting. For you.”

“That was a terrible mistake, I am afraid.”

“I am the Avatar of Honor. The ones you see here?” he pointed to the thestrals around him, and as he did they removed their masks, revealing their equally dark faces. “We are many, and many more than this. Had we wanted, yes. This could have been ended. But we are not barbarians, as you are. We seek only your word, though the word of an outlander is of little worth.”

“Concerning?”

“This place,” he said, taking a step forward and agitating the griffons greatly. “This palace is not for you. For countless centuries, we have stood guard over It, and for countless more we shall stand. This is our ancestral land. And you shall depart from it. Or face destruction.”  

Daring Do gulped, and looked to Wun. To her horror, Wun was smiling.  

“No,” she said.

“It is not something you have a say in. You will only be given one chance.”

“I see. So you are trying to renege on our agreement?”	

A near-silent sound moved through the group.  

“We will make no deal, no agreement. We will not sacrifice our ancient pride, not to you or to any!”  

“Really.” Wun took a step forward. This seemed to agitate the thestrals greatly. The absurdity of a tall, narrow mare in fancy clothing stepping toward them with total impunity. “I do not expect the terms were too complicated for you. My emissaries communicated our terms with your leader, and the terms were accepted. I dispatched food and medical supplies to you. In exchange for ownership of this land.”

“You cannot simply own it--”

“Indeed, I can,” said Wun, suddenly leaning forward and causing several thestrals to jump back. “Because I, in fact, DO. According to the inventory, you already took the medicine and food.”

“Medicine for diseases you foreigners brought to us!”

“NO. Medicine for deficiencies brought on by intergenerational starvation. Diseases accelerated by the fact that what little fertility this land might have had five centuries ago is now long depleted.”

Daring Do looked out at the crowd of thestrals. While initially they had seemed terrifying, it was mostly out of the surprise of it. Now that she looked more closely, she saw that their frightening robes were in fact frayed and tattered, and the ponies beneath were astoundingly thin and sickly. Many were ill, shaking quietly and barely able to support their spears.  

“Then we will return it,” snapped Honor.

“You can’t,” said Daring Do, suddenly. “Can’t you see? You’re sick, you need our help--”

“We need NOPONY!” bellowed Honor, his voice cracking and breaking into a range beyond pony hearing. “We do not need your charity, and we do not want you defying our sacred laws, pillaging our land for your own gain! We only want to be left alone!”

“I do not think you understand the situation,” said Wun, calmly.

“I understand it better than you ever could. This land, it is not meant for you, or your kind.”

“Again. Moot.” Wun took another step forward. Daring Do knew her sister, and sensed that something was wrong. She always appeared calm, and nearly always was. At this point in time, she was most certainly not. 

“You took the supplies. You completed the deal. The bargain was struck. I do not accept returns. I own this land now. And you keeping me from it? That makes you a thief.”

Honor gasped, his hoof reaching toward his sword. “How dare you--”

“You are attempting to steal something which is MINE. Something I PAID FOR, something that belongs to ME and only ME.” Wun’s pupils began to narrow, and Daring Do felt a horrid vibration moving through the air. “You are attempting to steal from me. And that is something I cannot EVER allow.”

The air was suddenly filled with screams. Daring Do jumped, seeing several thestrals lifted off the ground, their wings contorted and held in green magic.  

Honor gasped. “Purity! Curiosity, Adorableness!” He pivoted back to Wun. “You fiend! How dare you--”

“Perhaps if I removed these rediculous wings, you could pass as earth ponies? You could finally integrate into proper civilization, rather than living in a hole as a group of savages?”

Her magic tightened, and the thestrals cried out. Several lunged forward, but their primitive spears splintered, their copper heads igniting in green fire and melting to slag.  

Wun took another step forward. More thestrals rose, crying out and struggling desperately as their wings were pulled harder and harder.  

“Wun!” cried Daring Do, running forward. “Stop, you’re taking it too--”

Daring suddenly felt a firm grasp around her own wings, and then a pressure that quickly rose to pain, directly on the joints where they connected to her body. Wun’s eyes slowly turned to her, and her lips parted in something far more terrible than any smile. The thestrals screamed at the sight of her teeth, how they were abnormally long and needle-like, more far more ichthian than equine.  

“Daring. You have NO SAY in my ownership of these ponies. You know that.”

“Wun, calm down, we can still talk this out--”

“Why? I have no use for them. I tried to be polite. The pyramid, and everything within, belongs to ME. Any obstacle in my way...” She slowly turned her head and fang-filled mouth toward Honor, and now her grimace did truly become a smile. “...well, dirty little thieves deserve to be punished, do they not?”  

“You may try. We, likewise, tried to be polite.”

He put his hoof through the loop of his blade and pulled it free. It was not made of steel, but some unnamed dark metal, the long and straight blade inscribed with bizarre and nauseating runes carved deeply into its surface. Runes that glowed with deep internal light.  

The situation had decayed quickly, and Daring Do was unsure what to do—and doubted there was anything that could be done. Her only option was to close her eyes and try to block out the screams. It was a familiar feeling, and the one she hated the most.  

Then something appeared. Dropping from the sky, several narrow shadows. Their owners touched to the ground, their hooves silent on the stony ground.

At their front stood a thestral stallion of immense age, and at his size a mare of unnatural size, her head mostly covered with a hood. On her back she bore a sword not unlike Honor’s, although much larger and broader and strung through rings instead of a primitive scabbard.  

“Honor!” cried the elderly stallion. “Stop this madness at once!”

Honor turned sharply and chirped wildly. The stallion responded, chittering back in the same language, much of it beyond Daring Do’s range of hearing. At some points it hurt to listen to; they were no doubt screaming at each other, the large mare occasionally interjecting coarsely.  

“You decrepit fool!” screamed Honor, suddenly in Equestrian. He pointed his sword at the stallion, and the thestrals around him gasped in disbelief. Although the motion carried no significance to Daring Do, she supposed that to them it was an incredible insult. The large mare’s eyes narrowed as her own hoof went to her blade. The elderly stallion, though, stood firm, his pale blue eyes not once leaving Honor’s. “You’ve sold us out to these foreign devils! You’ve thrown away everything of meaning, everything we have suffered for! Every tradition that defines our very being! Have you no shame?!”

“I have done what I had to do,” replied the stallion. “Or does your pride truly blind you to the nature of the alternative?”  

Honor shrieked something in their native language, and then took flight. Several of his compatriots joined him, but many simply faded into the shadows, scattering every way. The majority, though, simply stood, either dumbfounded or hanging their heads in humiliation.

The old stallion stepped forward and looked up to Daring Do, his assistant not once leaving his side. Her face was similar to Honor’s, both in structure and in expression.  

“Would you please release them?” he asked.

Wun tilted her head, as if confused. Then her magic flickered out, and the ponies she had captured fell to the ground below, their friends helping them to their feet and away. Many of them were crying. The ones Wun had targeted were almost all children.  

“Thank you,” sighed the stallion. “Although I have no right to, I beseech you, please forgive Honor. His actions do not stand for us all. I am the Avatar of Wisdom.”

“Yes,” said Wun. “I know your name. Tarsus spoke of you.”

“Your emissary. He spoke highly of you.”

“He has to. I hatched him.”  

“I am so sorry that you and I had to meet in such a manner.”

“I purchased this land from you, fairly, and the rights to the Pyramid. Yet your kind attacked my operation. What trickery is this?”

“We had no intention of letting it get this far. But his virtue is tempered with pride, and his passion for our traditions strong.”

“Then why did you not stop him before he slowed my operations?”

Wisdom stood still for a moment, as if considering. “Because his opinions reflect those of the majority of us.” He motioned to the  mare beside him. His right hoof was covered in wrappings, although the left was not. “Dignity and her cousins understand the necessity of this arrangement, but they are few of us. We waited for you. We could not have stood on our own otherwise.”

“I see. They do not obey your command.”

“I am not their leader.”

“Then what are you?”

“I am Wisdom. The eldest here. The new Wisdom awaits us in a matter of months, to continue in our line. But she is yet to be chosen. And...” He paused, and then sighed. “I must do what I have to to ensure that her life will persist, as mine has. To continue one role, some must be sacrificed.”  

“Meaning?”

“The meaning of it does not matter. But I give you my word, that our kind will not bother you again.”

“I do not need your word to ensure that. As you are aware.”

“Yes. I know you think that.” His expression darkened again. “And if Honor challenges you, be warned that he is strong. You may fight him. But to touch the innocent is a sign of grave weakness.”

Wun smiled. “You yourself consider pride a sin. Why would it bother me if you consider me weak, so long as my goals are accomplished?”

Dignity sneered. “What manner of life is that, then?”

“You would not understand. Your lifetimes are so very tiny. But I am not here to hurt ponies. I desire none of you. I am simply here to take what I rightfully own.”  

“Do as you please,” said Wisdom. He bowed, and then turned to leave.

Daring Do only then realized that she had been released, and ran after them. “Wait! Mr. Wisdom, sir, I have questions! I’m interested in your culture, if I could just--”

Daring was stopped in her tracks as a wide black blade sliced within millimeters of her nose, removing part of her mane in the process. “Do not dare to speak to us,” snared Dignity, the pony holding the blade. “My brother’s opinions are ones I share, and deeply. You have given us a choice where the only path is humiliation, and we shall forever despise you for it. Take his actions as a warning. This place is not meant for you. Do not speak to us ever again. Your face makes me sick.”

She flicked the blade around its ring, gracefully sliding it back into its rings. Then she took flight with Wisdom, and in seconds the entirety of the thestral force seemed to have vanished.  

“Ignore them,” said Wun. “Words have no meaning. What the lesser think is not worth its weight in air. The only thing that should ever concern you is success.”

Daring looked down at the pyramid and sighed. In the depths of her being, she hated the fact that she knew that Wun was right. They had not come to be loved, and they never would be.

They had come for the Iron Pyramid.
> Chapter 5: Archaeologists
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even at a distance, Daring Do had felt a sense of disquiet. A certain wrongness, something that was hard to place. A deep instinct that something was not quite right. Something ether deep below her conscious mind, or above it, or perhaps both. The nearer she drew closer to the period, the more she felt that something about it was simply wrong.  

And, standing before it, she felt the full brunt of that impact. Something in the silence, something she struggled to conceive but could not. It was a vast structure, a clear rival to any of the pyramids of Southern Equestria, perhaps even to the Great Pyramid of Hissan IV. Except that while those were coated in lovingly polished limestone, this one was built of vast cyclopean blocks, each made of disturbingly black stone—and each carved deeply and by some unknown means with a symbol. Always the same symbol, on bricks that must have weighted one hundred tons each. Never changing and horrid, from the bottom to the very pinnacle of the structure.

It was only as she stood staring at it, Wun beside her, that Daring Do suddenly realized the wrongness of it—and saw, at least partially, its source.

“Sweet Celestia...” She craned her neck, trying to make her eyes focus, thinking she must be wrong.  

“I know,” said Wun. “I see it too.”

“There’s…there’s only three sides...”

Something in the distance suddenly released a solemn, terrible sound. A warble, at once shifting from near to far, like a somber scream, one not of fear but of abandonment and emptiness. Daring Do nearly jumped, but instead felt a shiver run down her spine.  

She looked to the distance, past where ponies and griffons alike were hard at work repairing their camp from the damage caused by the thestrals. In the near-darkness and long shadows, across the blood-red sand, Daring Do saw creatures paroling the periphery of the camp.  

They were black, as if they themselves were shadows. Thin, narrow, sable creatures with canine bodies moved by them, their yellow eyes watching each and every pony. They looked like dogs, and Daring Do thought they were at first—except for how thin they were. Grotesquely thin. And how their snouts were far too long and narrow, and their tails to stiff. And then, of course, their size. Even the smallest among them would have towered over the tallest of ponies.  

Daring Do shivered again as another mournful call escaped them, joins by others and carried softly on the wind.  

“Sha,” said a male voice, causing Daring Do to turn suddenly. A pony was approaching them, staring at the creatures. He was an earth stallion, one of the archaeologists, dressed in a shirt not too unlike Daring’s, although with a cravat worn beneath. He was dull in color, like the stone around him, and his messy mane had already started to develop flecks of gray despite his young age. It was also apparent that he had not shaved in some time.  

The impression was immediate. Strong, ruggedly handsome, and an adventurous archaeologist. Daring felt her wings struggling to extend, but she did her very best to keep them folded on her back.

“Daring,” warned Wun.	

“I’m not exactly doing it on purpose!” hissed Daring back at her.

The stallion did not seem to notice. His pale green eyes were too focused on the beasts that stared back at him from the distance. “They are sometimes called the Desert Winds. They dwell in lonely, empty places. Dark places, feeding on despair and desolation.” He shivered, just as Daring Do had upon seeing them. “Terrible creatures, and horrible omens.” He turned his eyes to Daring. “They say that just a single touch is a guaranteed demise.”  

“I know what they are,” retorted Daring Do. “I’ve seen the hieroglyphs.” She looked over her shoulder at them. “I just thought they would be...smaller.”  

The stallion smiled. “And would you expect a sphinx to be the size of a common housecat, perhaps?”

“And you are?” asked Wun.

“Pontracio Caballeron. Lead archaeologist on this project.”

Wun’s head tilted. The impression was elegant but distinctly inequine. “I was under the impression I had hired Ulderthunn Dirt, PhD. You are not her.”

“Ah. Yes. As you surely are aware, my mentor is of very advanced age, and the years have left her terribly frail. Her health, I’m afraid, took a turn in the last few months. Nothing serious, of course, but such an arduous expedition of this would simply be too much for her constitution.”

“Mentor. Imply you are a student, then.”

“Does that matter?”

“What matters is that I provided a substantial grant to the Canterlot Archaeological Institute to ensure that this operation is run not just adequately, but perfectly. My requirements are stringent. I paid for an expert. I did not pay for you. I do not know you.”  

“I do,” said Daring.

“You do?” asked both Caballeron and Wun at once.

“You recovered the Ponochtitlan amoxtin. You translated them, I read the paper—and then the one where you identified character verisimilitude with the extinct written language of the Outer Bison linguistic group. You suggested a cultural commonality between the two, it revolutionized equine-bovine relationship theory. That, and your work on unicornic tracing by interpreting House Seal variations in accordance with medieval wizard heraldry—even if Pokin Hoolz had a brilliant counterargument based on practical magical theory—”

“So you are a linguist,” said Wun.  

“I am,” said Caballeron, his brow furrowing as if that had been intended as an insult.

“Are you a cunning one?”

“Excuse me?”

Wun leaned to the side, closely inspecting the stallion’s flank. “Firm. But not the cutie mark of a linguist.”

“And you wear a dress that covers yours.”

“Black tacca bloom with a percent sign. I would be glad to allow you to see it if you would help me undress myself.”  

“He’s one of Equestria’s leading experts on ancient and dead languages,” squeaked Daring Do, suddenly supremely excited to meet a pony of such renown—and perhaps a bit overexuberant for the sake of her competitive spirit. “He’s published over thirty articles spanning the entire field—”

“Daring, do control your appendages.”

Daring Do looked back and blushed, having found her wings completely erect.  

“Archaeology excites me!” she cried, so loud that several griffons heard her and laughed.  

“It is a means to an end,” said Wun, dismissively. “And a prolific linguist is still that. As firm as your stallion body is, you belong in a library sniffing dust. Not sniffing dust I own near my pyramid.” 

Caballeron frowned. “If I may be candid, Lady Perr-Synt, I do not especially want to be here myself. I had to delay my dissertation preparation to come here as a personal favor to mare who is well into her late nineties—and before you say it, yes. I know. As earth ponies, we do not have your prodigious lifespan. Nor does a pony with a yam flower for a cutie mark have any business telling me how to conduct a dig.”

“I am not old. And it is not a yam.”   

“Technically it is,” said Daring Do, dismissively. She turned to Caballeron. “What were you working on?”

“If you must know, my primary study focus is on deciphering Higher Crystallic.”

Daring Do gasped so hard she nearly choked herself. “Crystallic? That’s the deadest of dead languages! The entire Crystal Empire is lost, and the only crystal pony ever known outside it was illiterate in her own language! They say non-crystal ponies can’t even comprehend it...”

“Which is of course absurd. I have made substantial inroads into understanding it, despite the difficulties. What few fragments we have of their text could revolutionize our understanding of the world, of science and asthmatics—and yet they and every valuable artifact relating to the Empire keeps...disappearing.”

“They did not grow legs,” said Wun. “Do you mean they were stolen?”

Caballeron’s eyes flashed. “I mean leaving locked rooms. Vaults. Secure containment areas. Nopony steals them. They simply vanish.”  

“You are not instilling me with confidence.”  

“Do you have any other choice?” Caballeron motioned behind Wun, where, between several tents, the remnants of the supply skiff were being pulled into place. Near them, Cretin had disassembled what was left of his airplane and had begun to put it back together. At present, he was contemplated why the fully reconstructed plane had left an equally sized pile of spare parts.  

“Only if I am impatient.”

“He started already. Let him work.”  

“Indeed.”

Wun stared at the Pyramid. “Show me.”

Caballeron began to walk. “The entirety of the pyramid is coated in blackstone,” he said, gesturing to it. “Our geologist indicates that it was quarried locally.”

“Coated?”

Caballeron nodded. “The outer black surface is a facade.”

“Really. And the symbols?”

“As of yet unidentified. They will need to be cross-referenced. We have taken photographs.”

“I have an idea on that,” said Daring, coming up behind them and pulling out her journal.

Caballeron sighed. “Miss, I assure you, this is something that requires careful consideration--”

Daring Do ignored him, opening her journal and flipping to a page where she had carefully transcribed an image from Twilight Felt’s own notes—one that matched the ones carved into the vast stones of the pyramid. Beside it were Daring Do’s own copies of inscriptions and notes, largely drawn from memory. She held up the pictures to Caballeron.	

“The symbol shares motifs with some times of older thestral grave markers from the early Post-Unification Period.”

Caballeron looked at the notes, his eyes widening. “There is no way to verify that, thestral works are as rare as their species--”

“No, few have been translated. You know that. There’s plenty if you don’t mind reading thestral.”	

Caballeron looked up in disbelief. “Nopony reads thestral. It has no homology to any known Equestrian language, to learn the tonal assonance alone would take decades—”

“I didn’t say I speak it,” protested Daring Do, “but it’s not hard to read.”

“Not hard to—you can’t—”

“Our father’s library holds a significant number of unique thestral texts, so I can attest to her ability. And to the horror of her trying to squeak it out.”  

Caballeron looked from Wun to Daring Do. “You two are...sisters?”

“Of course,” said Wun. “It should be obvious. After all, I have made it clear I prefer stallions.”

“Excuse me?”

Daring Do elbowed Wun and snatched back her notes. “What’s weird,” she said, ignoring her sister, “is that thestrals don’t build graves, or monuments. Not usually. They have catacombs. The only time they would ever use a grave marker is for a criminal, or in the later era apostates from the worship of their goddess Khonshu, the Black-Night-Queen. The size relates to the crime.” Daring Do stared up at the pyramid. “A general in service to Celestia once got one four inches across. The largest ever recorded.”  

Wun and Caballeron stared at the pyramid, and at the blocks the size of most buildings.

“Which implies,” said Caballeron, “that you believe this was built by the thestrals. Even though no thestral culture has ever shown a cultural predilection toward constructing megaliths, and they are culturally distinct from southern Equestrian pyramid-building peoples.”  

Daring Do did not speak, because she did not need to. In fact, she preferred the mystery. It made her wings tingle, and she admittedly took some joy in having proven herself, at least in part, to an older and more experienced archaeologist.

“The connection is...intriguing,” admitted Caballeron.  

“Does it have an entrance?” asked Wun.  

Caballeron seemed to become pale. “Please. This way.”  




The work had already advanced significantly before Daring Do and Wun had arrived. At one end of the three-walled pyramid, construction equipment had been assembled. Much of this revolved around a crane that had been constructed to lift one of the massive black stones several yards above the ground, where it now dangled, supported precariously by strange chains.

“Is that safe?” asked Daring Do, staring up at it.  

“We had nowhere else to put it,” retorted Caballeron. “Removal risks collapsing the whole of it. Besides, those are unicorn-forged chains. They will support it. Not even the dynamite dislodged it.”

Wun’s eyes widened. “You used dynamite on my pyramid?”

“You wanted to get in. So I did.”

“If you damaged it—”

“Some of the facade crumbled, but that is hardly important.  

“The facade? How could you blow off the side without damaging the interior stone?”

Caballeron smiled humorlessly and led them under where the great stone had been lifted.  

Immediately, Daring Do understood—and at the same time was utterly mystified.

The surface of the pyramid, behind the blackstone, was not stone at all. It was something else. Metal.  

Daring Do paused. “What…?”

“Our examination has revealed that the entirety of the pyramid’s core is made of metal,” said Caballeron. “What few tests we could do indicate it is some kind of iron.”

“That’s impossible,” said Daring Do. “This thing is pre-Celestine. Even out here, it would rust...” She stared at it, seeing that it was still smooth and black. Not quite as black as the stone that covered it, but somehow more disturbingly so.  

“We cannot identify the alloy. What we do know is that nothing we can possibly do even scratches it. Dynamite does nothing, nor do any of our tools. Paint or chalk does not stick to it. Even griffon bullets rebound as if made of rubber.”

“You shot my pyramid?!”

“An accident while cleaning his ridiculous blunderbuss, I’m sure.”  

Caballeron gestured to the surface, and Daring Do narrowed her eyes, suddenly realizing that it was not consistent. Not only was there an indication of some kind of pattern, but part of the surface was darker than the rest—because it was not part of the surface. It was a hole.

“It took me four weeks to open this,” said Caballeron, pointing to a complicated mechanism beside the door and a chalkboard covered in schematics and diagrams. “I may be tasting chalk for the rest of my life.”

“You had it open, and you did not go in?”
Caballeron frowned, as if he had been told he might as well try to eat the pyramid rather than explore it. “It is incredibly unwise to be the first to enter a tomb like this. There could be a curse.”

“A curse? Are you a gullible child?”

“We live in a world where a third of the population can, in fact, use magic, and where ‘wizard’ is a mundane job description. Yes. There are curses. And I do not intend to step in one. I do not even shave when I am near such things, for obvious reasons.” He looked to the workers rebuilding his camp and equipment. “If I may, I recommend we send one of the griffons in first.”

“My mercenaries? Why?”

“They are expendable. Is that not their point? I’m sure they would do it for some coin.”  

Wun did not get a chance to answer because, overcome by excitement, Daring Do ran toward the pyramid. Before she could be stopped, she left over the threshold and into the blackness within—and promptly fell a good distance, her face landing hard against cold metal.

“Daring?” called Wun, peeking her head in after her.

“There’s a drop-off,” called Daring back. “Also...um...it’s really dark in here. Can one of you throw down a torch?”

Caballeron sighed, taking a torch belt from a rack and wrapping it around himself. He produced a torch and lit a match, igniting it as he slid it into the belt’s holding tube.

“I do appreciate her enthusiasm,” he admitted. “But please try to control her.”

“That is not my job.” Wun’s horn flashed with light, and three spheres of blue light foomfed into existence near her, levitating around her as she walked toward the hole. “She is not wrong, though. I wish to see this with my own eyes, to see what we have acquired.”   

She jumped into the hole and Caballeron frowned. He had not planned on it going this way—but he would make adjustments as needed.  

Then he followed them in.
> Chapter 6: The Forgotten Idols
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The light from the torch was bright, but insufficient. It flickered and danced quietly over the walls of the ancient pyramid. Its ancient silence was broken only by the sound of Daring Do’s hoofs tapping on the dusty metal floor, the crackle of the flame, and the dull hiss of Wun’s wisp-lights.  

What struck her was the profound silence outside of that. It seemed that the moment they lost sight of daylight within the darkness, all sound had been cut away. Everything from the outside had vanished, trapping them in a world that had existed for millennia without the slightest light or sound. Perhaps it was meant to be peaceful. Perhaps not.  

“We’re the first ponies to be here in thousands of years.” A tingle moved through her body, from her hooves to her wings. A strange, powerful feeling that she had never felt before. Like the sense of exploration that had first given her her compass cutie mark, but infinitely more poignant. This was not a matter of sailing ships into uncharted ocean or riding through ancient jungles and mountains, not a matter of simple exploration. This was different. It was not a matter of space, but of the dark profundity of time.  

“Yes,” said Caballeron, himself clearly feeling the same sensation. “Although much can happen in five thousand years.”

Daring Do put her hoof on the wall. It, like the outside, was made of perfect and unrusted iron—except it was the wrong color. Not like normal iron. So much darker, like wrought iron, but smooth like steel.  

“The entire pyramid is made of this,” she said, looking down the long hall. It struck her as odd. Not a simple tunnel, but not something built to be ornate. It looked almost industrial. “That just doesn’t make sense...how could somepony in ancient times even have come close to this?”

“Our geological surveys of the soil found traces of iron oxide,” suggested Caballeron. “Hence the red color, I’m told. But the soil here contains no iron ore.”

“Even if it did...even by the time of Hissan IV, at the start of the Unification Period, the north barely had the ability to forge iron, let alone southern Equestria. I mean, in King Horseuncommon’s tomb, his most prized possession was an ancient Assyrian dagger made of meteoric iron. That was the only source they had, and that was all of it. That one dagger.”

“I own that dagger,” noted Wun. “It is...primitive. But significant. I like it.”  

“And this pyramid was already ancient by then,” said Daring Do, quietly, her voice constrained by the fact that the iron walls did not echo.

“It may represent a lost lineage of metallurgy,” suggested Caballeron. “No other examples of the material are known to exist.”

“Their swords,” said Daring Do. “I think they’re made of the same thing.”

Caballeron sighed. “So thestrals made it, then?”

“No. The swords are old. Wun, did you notice the symbols?”

“Runic,” she said, “but not ones that I know.”

“Not just that. Imagine if you cut one of those swords to pieces. Those markings, the shape of the blades? Look familiar?”

“Daring. I do have time for riddles, but you should not waste your tiny lifespan on them.”

“The Black Gem in the Kritponios Crown?”

Wun’s eyes widened, and Caballeron gasped.

“You’ve seen the Kritponios? You’ve actually had a chance to study it? The gemstones inside—if I had even a single chance--”

“It is in our museum,” said Wun.  

“Wh—what?!”

“And nopony could ever figure out what the Black Gem was.”

“It is the most valuable piece.”

“And the only part not cut like a gemstone. Because nopony could cut it. I think it’s metal. Made of this stuff.” Daring tapped on the wall. 

Wun looked up at her surroundings, realizing that she was standing in a cathedral of what very well might have been one of the rarest substances in the world.

“If that is true, it is the same substance as in the Sombrix fragmentary armor. But this much...”

“There is no way the ancients could have achieved it.”

“We could not even do it in modern times. Our steel-body ships are still only prototypes, and this is so much larger than even our flagship...”	

“Do you notice anything else?” said Caballeron, smiling weakly.

“Yeah.” Daring Do pointed to the walls. “No rivets. No signs of welds. No tool marks. As if it was forged in one piece. Except Celestia herself and every unicorn in her stallion pile couldn’t move something this big this far. Not with every Pegasus and every earth pony pulling alongside them.”  

“Yes. What you have proposed is indeed impossible.”

Daring frowned. “Really? Then what’s your theory, mister archaeologist?”

Caballeron smiled wrly. This time it looked sincere. “I only said it is impossible. Not that you are wrong, my dear.”

Wun pushed past him, nearly pushing him over in the process. “Stop flirting with my baby sister or I will remove your wings and or horn.”

Caballeron frowned. “I have neither of those things.”

“Really. Then I suppose I will have to find something else to remove. Although you would probably use your rippling earth pony strength to overpower me and pin me down, tearing my ridiculously expensive clothing inside this obscenely valuable and fascinating tomb that I now own.”

Daring groaned, but Caballeron just looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “That—that would be horribly inappropriate--”

Wun leaned close to him and smiled. “These walls are acoustically soundproof. No one will hear the screaming.”  

Caballeron cleared his throat and trotted forward. “That said, yes, let us continue. This is likely part of the antechamber system still, I’m sure the tomb is farther in.”

“But wait, the traps!”  

For some reason, that caused Caballeron to trot even faster.  

“I said WAIT! Old tombs always have traps! It’s a thing! A THING!”

“That is completely absurd!” cried Caballeron, turning his head to look behind him so he could yell at Daring Do. “I assure you, I have attended hundreds of projects, and not ONCE has there been traps in--”

In that instant, not watching where he was going, he fell through a large hole.  

“No!” Daring Do leapt forward, intending to grab him. As he fell, she did to, spreading her wings and flying blindly into the hole. Almost immediately, she struck the wall of it at a sudden turn, feeling something in her shoulder pop and feeling the wind knocked out of her. The light of Caballeron’s torch began to fade, but she pumped her wings through the pain to catch up to him.  

Half falling and half flying, she descended, feeling the stale air of the ancient tomb rushing past her as she fell. In the distance, she could hear his screams of surprise and terror as he fell into the blackness. The sounds returned to her in a way that was oddly distorted, as if the iron walls had contaminated them with aspects of silence and rendered them disturbingly inequine.

She began to panic. There was no way to know how deep the hole went, and no way for her to know where the bottom was—or how much time she had. It was far enough that he would be badly hurt or worse if he did not grab onto something, and yet her instinct when faced with darkness was to hold back and hover, to avoid slamming herself at full speed into the dark floor and meeting the same fate.  

Yet she resisted, reaching out into darkness until suddenly she felt something in her hooves.  

She spread her wings at the last second, feeling the ligaments straining as she decelerated. With Caballeron’s additional weight, she could barely support them both—and before she had even stopped her hooves met sand and, below it, cold metal.  

Caballeron, breathing hard, held onto her for dear life. Daring Do, though, retracted her wings, now finding herself on solid ground.  

“You know, you can let go eventually.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Caballeron separated from her, and Daring Do’s eyes began to adjust. There was almost no light except from the torch that Caballeron had dropped, although it had been nearly extinguished and was now little more than glowing embers.  

Beside her, Wun suddenly dropped, her body surrounded by a puff of magic as she landed effortlessly on the ground. Her wisps followed her, bringing dim blue light to the room. Daring Do shuddered when she saw her surroundings. The metal ground was coated with small dunes of sand, and within them something dry and white.

“It seems we were not the first ones here after all,” said Caballeron.

“Like I said. TRAPS.”  

Daring Do stepped over the piles of sand and remnants of fabric that had gathered at the base of the hole, walking over metal toward where the torch had fallen. It had managed to fall a substantial distance from where they had landed, having bounced off several jutting bits of metal that Daring had somehow miraculously managed to miss.  

She picked it up in her hooves and blew on it softly, not enough to put it out but enough to try to reignite it. Unfortunately, it was already on the verge of going out.

That was when she heard something moving in the darkness beyond where her sister’s light reached. Something moving against the ground, through the sand and debris. Daring’s heart quickened, and she blew on the torch faster, trying to get it to ignite.  

Then she heard the hissing. So did Caballeron.  

A quiet voice slowly came from the darkness.

“Please…help...”

Daring looked up, her whole body shaking. “What?”

“Please...no...”

“Daring!” cried Caballeron, running to her. “Get back, get out of there!”  

Daring could not, though. Her body had frozen. She suddenly realized how dark it was, how deep she was, how far she was from the camp outside. She did not know how to get back. She could not remember. Her mind had shut down.

Then they came, slithering out of the darkness, lunging toward her—and all she could do was stand there, closing her eyes and screaming like a filly.  

Caballeron lunged, pushing his body against the snake and driving it back. The others charged him, but he struck at them, forcing them back. Then he took the torch, waving the still-burning end at the horde of serpents. Through its light, Daring Do could see them. There were so many, and they were strange. Large, primitive—and some had legs.  

“Get back! Get away from her! Get back or I will stomp you all!”

He stamped his feet and charged the snakes, causing them to recoil.

“Please no!” screamed one of the snakes.  

“Please no step! NO STEP!” cried another, and a chorus of pleas came resounding from the mass of reptiles as they fled from Caballeron’s wrath.  

Daring, now on the cold ground and quivering, heard them and watched them go—until a hoof was extended to her.  

“Are you hurt? Did they bite you?”

“Snakes...why did it have to be snakes...”

“It’s okay now. Can you stand?”

Daring Do took a breath. “Yeah. I think so.” She stood up, taking Caballeron’s hoof.

“Biblical snakes,” explains Caballeron. “Very venomous. Very talkative. Don’t eat anything they offer.” He grimaced. "That's what eventually did in Malus Honestia, if you're intent on knowing." 

“I don’t think that will be a problem for me.” Daring wavered on her legs and nearly collapsed. Caballeron caught her.  

“You find snakes a problem?”

“I hate them,” said Daring, shuddering. “So...snakey...”

“Ahem.”

Daring and Caballeron turned to Wun. Daring almost fainted upon finding that the snakes had coiled around her sister’s body like perverse necklaces, bracelets, and corsets.  

“Please no step!”

“I make a flat! So scary!”

“Boop the snoot?”

Caballeron stared in bewilderment. “Why are they not biting you?”

“The same reason sharks don’t eat lawyers,” muttered Daring Do.

“Yes,” said Wun. “Also, I am quite familiar with them. In Singapone, we call them ‘danger noodles’.”

“No we don’t,” snapped Daring Do. “Put them down!”

“But they are trying to constrict me. Look.” She took a step forward.

“Put them down or I’ll constrict your neck! GAH!” Daring recoiled, hiding behind Caballeron. “I hate snakes!”

“Fine.” Wun spoke to the snakes, and they departed from her, retreating to the dark shadows of the tomb.  

Caballeron reignited the torch, adding more fuel oil to its cloth. “The level we were at before...it was at ground level.”

“So how deep are we now?” asked Daring Do.

“I don’t know.”

“This pyramid has roots, then,” said Wun. “How intriguing.”  

“It was probably built on an underground complex. Perhaps a more ancient temple. We have no way to know how big it is. We need to turn back. This is ludicrous, this needs to be done systematically--”

“You are welcome to leave if you wish.”

Caballeron looked up the drop he had come down and his expression fell. He turned to Daring.

“Can you fly us?”

“Maybe. I don’t think so. You’re heavier than you look.” Daring paused. “But I know the path back. I can get the griffons to haul you out, and we can set up ropes.”  

“And that would leave you alone with me,” said Wun.  

“You can levitate,” said Daring.

“That would leave me alone!” cried Caballeron.  

“Nor can I levitate myself that far without something to stand on,” added Wun, stepping into the darkness as snakes recoiled from her presence out of respect. “Nor do I wish to. Daring, based on the structure of this building, what do you suggest it is?”

Daring paused. “Pyramids were always tombs. But if it was built on top of something, it might be a temple.”

Wun smiled. “Meaning?”

Caballeron inhaled sharply. “Meaning burial chambers...or religious artifacts...”

“Or both.” She smiled. “You. I recognize something within you that I like. Perhaps we could pass a bit farther? I know I will not sleep until I have laid eyes on at least one golden idol or bejeweled sarcophagus.”  

“Perhaps I have misjudged you as well,” said Caballeron. “BUT. It is important that we proceed with care.” He looked at Daring Do, and she frowned.

“You were the one who fell down a hole.”  

They crossed the expanse, a room so large that Daring Do could not see the edges or top of it, even in Wun’s wisp-light. What purpose this room had once served fully eluded her, and somehow she found herself increasingly desperate for the tight, dark hallways again. Those at least seemed reasonable, and natural—this, though, did not. A wrongness of construction that Daring sensed but did not wish to address. Not until lights were strung about the iron ceiling and walls and archaeologists were at work in every corner. Not until sanity was brought to this dark and silent place.  

They came to a door. A large one, far greater in size than for a pony. It was already open. In fact, Daring Do could not conceive the mechanism of the door. Like the one entering the temple, it did not swing inward or outward. It simply seemed to retract by an impossible mechanism back into the iron walls.  

This room was narrower, with a lower ceiling. As soon as they entered, Wun stopped, her brow furrowing. Daring Do knew that the reason Wun’s lights were dim was because, as a unicorn, her vision was well adapted for night. So that her ancestors could more readily find prey.

Then her lights moved as she dispersed them throughout the room, causing the three of them to rise to the ceiling and brighten substantially. Suddenly the room was flooded with crisp, frigid light.

Daring winced from the glow, but when she saw what Wun had already sensed, she felt jealous of the fact that unicorns did not feel emotion—because the sight was horrifying.  

The room contains a number of tables, or high benches. Higher than a pony would stand at, and forged from metal, as if from one piece emerging from the ground. They were arranged evenly, their bases connected by thin troughs through the metal floor that had long-since filled with dust and other dark fouling.  

It was what sat on each of the tables, though, that made Daring Do nauseous.  

“Bones,” said Caballeron. “What is this?”

“That is a question for an archaeologist, I think.” Wun stepped slowly into the room, and Daring Do followed, unable to stop herself. The curiosity was simply too strong.  

She had seen skeletons before. Every pony had one, as did every other equine bovine or cervid short of changelings. Her and Wun’s father, as a long-time student of natural history, had entire rooms filled with them, preserved and articulated in various poses, often with their epitaphs written below. Daring Do, as a child, had spent hours staring in amazement at those bones. One of them had been the first Pegasus she had ever seen apart from herself.

These, though, were different. Even at a glance, they were wrong. Unbelievably so. All showed massive deformities of every imaginable sort: of skulls overgrown with eye sockets, or multiple skulls fused to bodies consisting little more than as a jumble of bones and ragged cloth. Of limbs sprouting from places they should not, or spines extending outward into vast tails. Spikes, crooked wings, dried keratinous hooks, horns of every shape and fashion, all on display. In bodies wrapped in cloth, and held to their tables by chains.  

Daring felt sick, and looked to the ground, only to realize that it was heavily slanted.

“Hey,” she said. “Why does the floor slant toward...those...drains.” She shuddered violently, having answered her own question.  

Caballeron held his torch over one of the skeletons, its legs contorted and extended into vast claws and the rear of its body reverted to little more than an extensive vertebral tail that overhung to the floor and extended a substantial distance.  

“Considering the...the wrappings? This appears to be a mummification chamber.”

“Mummification?! What in the name of Celestia’s RUMP where they mummifying? What are these?”

“I...I don’t know.” Caballeron, clearly distressed, began to rationalize. “It...it might be possible that these were meant as...well, to put it crassly, a form of taxidermy.”  

“These were ponies!”

Caballeron looked up, his pale eyes wide. “No, Daring. I highly doubt they were.”  

“They are in very poor condition,” said Wun, examining one of them. “The process does not seem to have been completed. Which does beg the question, why did they stop?”

Neither Daring Do not Caballeron had an answer. Instead, Daring Do’s eyes were draw to the edge of the room. The wall was not flush, but instead separated into a number of cylindrical chambers. Things with glass or crystal covers revealing what seemed to be dust and bone fragments and metal within, all suspended in black liquid. Objects that looked curiously like tanks.

Daring Do approached one. Some of them were apparently occupied with their original contents, but others had split open, separated by an unseen mechanical mechanism.   

“I wonder what these were,” she said, brushing her hoof through the dust at the base of one—and seeing a distinct, familiar signal at the base.  

“Hey,” she said. “I think I found something!”

“Hopefully something valuable,” sighed Wun, her wisp-lights drifting to Daring Do’s location to better illuminate it.

Caballeron and Wun huddled around the area where Daring Do was pointing.  

`	“What is it?”

“Inscriptions. Notice anything familiar?” She looked to Caballeron, who raised one busy eyebrow.

“No,” he said. “I do not follow.”

“Look at the homologous structure of the central seal. Aren’t you supposed to be an expert in Unicornic Seals?”

Caballeron snorted. “Unicornic? As precocious your skill is, my dear, and do not mistake that I am indeed impressed, you are reaching, and badly. There were no unicorns in southern Equestria until the arrival of Starswirl the Bearded in ancient times.”  

“I know,” snapped Daring, “Starswirl the Bearded and Stygian the Unicorn, I’ve read it--”

“Clearly not. There are no records of Starswirl ever associating with anypony named ‘Stygian’, and I highly doubt a pony associated with Starswirl could be incredibly unimportant as to be ignored by history.”

“I’ve read the accounts.”

“Yes, the Trousers Aflame translation. Hardly a reliable source.”

“No. The Malus Honestia version, in the original language, so I know I’m right!”

“There’s no way you could speak that language, you lying--”

“There is a reason I never wasted time in college,” said Wun. “Academic debates bore me. Even when they invariably come to blows and mane pulling. “Daring. Are you absolutely sure this mark is one of a unicorn?”

“Well...no...” Daring faced the tank again, and could have sworn she saw something move inside it. She did her best to focus on the inscription. “The main body of the text is in...something. It looks like thestral, but it isn’t. I’ve never seen it before.”

“And you, the other one?”

Caballeron took a breath, calming himself. “Unicorn seals are a form of calligraphy based on certain spells. Those spells, in turn, are structured based on known natural laws. Rune magic is distinct in that anypony can use it, at least partially, so long as the rune is intact. It is possible whatever race constructed this simply, and by coincidence, accessed the same natural laws that some unicorn spells are derived from.”  

“That is reasonable.”

Daring’s feathers ruffled. “But--”

“This is something we can come back to. Remember, Daring, this is a perfunctory review. We do not simply run into a tomb, grab all the artifacts, and leave. Life is long. We have time to wait.”

Daring Do grumbled. Caballeron seemed to notice.

“It’s not an unreasonable conclusion,” he admitted. “You may turn out to be right in the end. Even if I doubt it. It was...an impressive assessment.”

Daring blushed somewhat. She doubted he was trying to sound as patronizing as he was.  

“Thanks.”

“It is simply a matter of refinement. Although you do seem to show a certain spark for the subject, it does take time. And practice.”  

“And a fancy degree to hang on your wall, I’m sure.” Wun repositioned her lights. “I do appreciate a good mummy, but these are clearly failures. I want something...more.”  

She started walking. Caballeron fell in step with Daring Do.

“Is she always like this?” he asked, quietly.

“You have no idea,” said Daring. “She’s just passionate.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Not really?”

“A pity, then.”



The room expanded once more, and Daring Do found herself climbing a vast staircase. What room it was built in she could not see, although at its periphery she saw the visages of great shapes, of idols built in the form of some unknown and terrible creature. Perhaps something that no longer walked the land, and had not for a great deal of time. From what little Daring could recognize of them, she perceived them as something like centipedes.  

At a certain point, Daring took flight, hovering slowly behind her sister and Caballeron. She needed to hear the sound of her wings. There was too much silence in this tomb, too much emptiness—as if no one had even bothered to install proper traps. There was no sense of danger. Only of void and sadness—and yet the air felt electric. This place was tolerating them, but they were not meant to be here.  

Then the stairs ended, and Daring Do paused, staring at the scene before her.

“Hey,” she said, landing softly on the metallic ground. “This iron stuff, you said it was pretty much indestructible, right? That not even dynamite could scratch it?”

Caballeron, pale and speechless, nodded.  

“Then what the heck did this?”

The space before them, on its far side, had once terminated in a great door, one of incredible size and complexity. A blast door, even, if the ancients had a concept of such things. What lay before the three ponies now, though, was a shattered wreck of metal. Enormous chunks of iron had been split and torn from the wall and door alike, severing the innards of delicate mechanisms as yards of metal were sliced apart. The wall around it was covered in seemingly hundreds of deep gouges, the metal slashed deeply from every angle.

The floor was covered with chunks of metal and the remains of mechanisms, and other things as well. Things that looked too much like the incomplete mummies from the lower level, except that the bone was more organized and the wrappings paired with dark iron armor bolted around them. Whatever they had been, though, they had been torn apart by whatever force had ripped open the door.  

“This is unfortunate,” sighed Wun. “But not unexpected.”

Daring frowned. “Not unexpected? What does that mean?”

Wun did not answer, and instead stepped over the remains of armored mummies and door fragments. Daring, instead, turned to Caballeron.

“Any thoughts, Mr. archaeologist?”

“I’m a linguist. I don’t do this. I sent other ponies to do this kind of thing. We shouldn’t be here.”

“Great. Do you have to be so depressing? What do you think the chances even are that whatever did this is still in there?”

Caballeron closed his eyes and sighed. “Thank you. I had not been thinking that thought until you said it.”  

The shattered remains of the door led to a tunnel. Daring noticed just how similar it was to the halls above. Which made no sense, at least consciously. If the pyramid were built on top of an older temple, there was no reason the temple below should match so perfectly.  

Likewise, she could still not shake the nagging sense caused by the lack of decoration or ornateness. Pure metal, unadorned, with no eye toward aesthetics. Just metal. Like wandering in the underdeck of one of her family’s transport ships, or the few military vessels they were not supposed to own. Worse, she could have sworn that she heard a ship. A distant, low hum, just below her range of hearing. Something that was causing her to increasingly and irrationally grow more and more stressed.  

Caballeron sensed it too, but Wun did not. Her pace had only quickened, drawing her deeper and deeper into the tomb.  

“We have to turn back,” said Caballeron, at last. “This is a bad place.”

“No,” said Wun. “Not when I’m so close.”

“But--”

“We have to see,” said Daring. She herself was shaking, but could not stop herself either. She felt the same fear that Caballeron did—but the same drive that forced her sister ever forward. That what they sought was close, that the black flecks in the edge of her vision and the taste of metal in her mouth meant they were near something truly special. Something that had never been seen before, not since the builders of this temple had left it behind.  

Then the tunnel fanned out, separating into the final chamber. They found themselves standing in a vast, wide room, and Wun immediately fanned her lights, turning them to their maximum brightness. It only seemed to make the shadows grow deeper, although Daring could see what the room contained.  

The entirety of the floor was carved and adorned with the first decoration Daring Do had seen in the entirety of the tomb—except that she immediately understood that it was not a decoration, but a machine. Not necessarally a mechanical one, but one that was all or partly constructed out of magic. The metal had been warped and cut, engineered precisely to accommodate the concentric circles and spirals of foreign metals in every shade of silver and white, their solidified rivers constructing a spell of incredible complexity at the center sat an altar of sorts, a short cylindrical platform with a small hole in the center.

At the far end of the room, in an arc and at the far end of the symbol, sat a number of stone cubes. They were forged from the same stone that made the facade of the pyramid, but manufactured and processed with infinity more complexity. Their perfectly carved surfaces shined black in Wun’s light, revealing systems of incredibly complicated runes carved into their surfaces and gilded with silver and some red metal that had no name. Some of them appeared to be similar to the symbol on the outside of the pyramid, but others were different and appeared to interface to the system of runes that made up the floor.  

“Look,” said Caballeron, pointing.

Daring Do did, and wished she had not. At the two edges of the arc of cubes, there were two circles that formed the periphery of the complex of symbols. In the centers of these lesser alters, two staffs had been inserted. Was scepters, specifically. Their owners sat below them, collapsed heaps of bones dressed in tattered black garments. Skeletons with batlike wings.  

“So the thestrals did build it,” said Daring. “This is what they were trying to contain.”  

“These are sealing spells,” said Caballeron, holding his torch to one of the cubes. “I think. They bear no homology to any known unicornic design.”

“They are not our concern,” said Wun. Daring and Caballeron turned to see her standing at the center of the largest symbol, where the altar was located. Her green eyes seemed to flash in her own light, and she was smiling. “There are words here. What do they say, my cunning linguist?”

Caballeron gulped and approached the center. Daring Do did the same.

The central cylinder did indeed sit in the center of a figure. Daring frowned, staring at it. She could barely make sense of the abstractness of it. The main body of it consisted of a triangle, with each point containing a bizarre abstraction or glyph. Around the edge of that, in a set of rings, sat words written in white metal and inscribed in three languages.  

“I know two of those,” said Daring Do. “The outer one is almost like thestral, but not really. I can’t read it. The one below it is Eastern Unicornic.”

“I don’t read that one,” said Caballeron. “I’ve never even seen it.”

“Because it is almost never used,” said Wun. “The meaning reflects the context of the reader. It is good for poetry, poor for everything else. Which is why we no longer use it.”

“So I take it you read it?”

Wun pointed to the first symbol. “The symbol for grain. Then the symbol for spring, and a stream with rapids. Then a symbol that probably meant war. A pleasant poem, I am sure, but the verbs are context-dependent without positional annotations. No doubt the writer was not a native speaker.”  

“And the inner language...”

“Is Arcanic,” said Cablleron. “It is a very ancient root of some unicorn sub-languages relating to magical and esoteric texts.”

Daring smiled wryly. “So much for no unicornic influence in southern Equestria.”

Caballeron huffed, and turned back to the seal. “It says ‘present the blood of the equal’.”

Daring squinted at it. “I don’t think that’s what it says...”	

“Miss, I am an expert in this line of study. My translations are impeccable. I know what it says.”

“But if we consider what the outer ring is saying...I mean, I can’t read all the words, but some of them are close--”

“Exactly. You can’t read it. And the Eastern ring is useless. So what we have is my translation, and the instructions for opening the lock.” He pointed at the central triangle. “This is an Equine Trinity, a representation of the three basic pony races. Pegasi, earth pony, and unicorn. Three equals.”

“I see,” said Wun. “So the lock demands blood. WE MUST APPEASE IT WITH A SACRIFICE!”

She immediately levitated Caballeron into the air, holding him above the center of the lock and summoning a cutting spell and pointing the blade of it at Caballeron’s soft underbelly.

“Unhoof me at ONCE!” he cried, his legs flailing in the air.

Wun shrugged. “If you insist.” She moved the cutting spell closer to Caballeron’s forearm.

“Wun, stop!”

Wun’s eyes turned toward Daring Do. “Oh. Yes. I had forgotten. Sacrifices are always virgins, no? Daring, step on the lock so that I can give you the poke.”  

“We are not having that conversation right now! Put down the archaeologist! Right now!”  

Wun sighed, and then dropped him. “Always impeding my fun. Why do you have to be so rational?”

“It’s not my fault you don’t have empathy.”

“No. That is the fault of my superb breeding.”  

Caballeron stood, dusting himself off. “This is serious business. I do not appreciate you joking around!”

“She wasn’t joking,” snapped Daring. “So you had better come up with an idea quick.”  

Caballeron glared at her. “I do.” He produced a pin. “The lock requires the blood of any three of the primary pony races. Probably so that a threstral cannot open it.”  

“I can just pull out a feather,” said Daring.

“No. It has to be pure blood. Yours will not work. I, however, am a pure-blooded earth pony. My parents were earth ponies, and their parents, and so on, all the way back until the inception of ponies.” He poked himself with the pin, wincing slightly. He then held it out over the center of the lock. “This should be all that we need.”

He started to shake the needle, and Daring Do looked down at the lock and at the symbols. Something was still not right.

Then, suddenly, she realized it. She cried out, lunging forward and slamming Caballeron off the altar and to the ground. The single drop of blood landed just next to the hole.

“What are you doing?! Are you insane, get off me!”

“It’s not an Equine Trinity! It’s a Magical Quadrangle!”

“Get off!” Caballeron shoved Daring Do off him and stood up. “No it isn’t! Quadrangle is ‘quad’, it means FOUR!”

He started to walk to the altar, but Daring cut him off.

“No, the modern quadrangle has four! One point for eastern unicorns, one for western ones, one for alicorns and one for the metaphysical unicorn! This pyramid is pre-Celestine, there were no alicorns yet! It was still a triangle! The Archaic Trigon!”  

“That’s absurd, the instructional text--”

“That’s not the word for ‘equals’! It’s a generalization! It also means ‘enemy’!”

Caballeron’s eyes widened, realizing that she was right.

“That’s what it says in thestral on the top, but I didn’t get it at first because the language is different—but it lines up with the symbol for ‘war’ in Eastern Unicornic. The pieces fit together. It’s not asking for your blood, it wants a unicorn’s!”

“But that makes no sense, why would it be built like that?”

“I have no idea. Maybe because we’re standing on a giant unicorn rune assembly?” Daring looked back to Wun. “The word lines up over the top of the triangle, the metaphysical unicorn. A representation of perfection. Meaning only a mortal unicorn can open it.”

“A mortal pureblood. Which I am.”  

Caballeron slowly looked down at the symbol on the floor. He shuddered. “I don’t know if that’s right. There has never been any representation of the quadrangle without Celestia--”

“Not just Celestia,” said Wun, stepping up to the altar. “There are actually two alicorns.”

“Two?”

“The field marshal of the Equestrian military, Equine Annihilation. She is also an alicorn, although she hides her wings. She raises the moon.” Wun shivered. “Pray you never meet her. She is...unpleasant.”  

Wun shifted her mouth, biting her tongue with her sharp teeth. Then she leaned forward and spat a thin ball of a substance distinctly similar in appearance to mercury into the lock hole.

The lock responded instantly, the central column retracting into the floor as its metal pieces shifted, rotating around themselves and forming a new conformation, their pale metal aspects glowing in response to the accepted sacrifice.  

New symbols moved into place in front of each cube, and cylinders extended from the floor Then the mechanisms on each of the cubes suddenly activated, spinning and unscrewing as the internal interlocks clunked open. Then, starting from the edges and moving inward, each of the cubes split down its center and was pulled apart down an unseen seam.  

And, as they sequentially separated, their contents fell to the floor in heaps. Bones, metal, dust and rusted, segmented tubes. All clattering to the floor at once, so quiet and yet so loud in the perfect silence.

Until the sequence came to the last one. When the stone cube split and slid apart, the contents did not fall. Supported by the rack inside stood something that Daring Do had wished she had not seen, but could not look away from.

The skeleton remains standing. It was equine, but substantially larger than a normal pony: both broader and taller—and the bones were not white. Instead, they seemed to be blackened, dripping with a dark, viscous substance. Various parts of it connected to segmented cables that led through ports assembled around it, although what purpose they served or had served remains a mystery.  

What Daring Do noticed the most, though, was the iron mask it wore. A mask formed into the unmistakable visage of a sha.  

She looked at the others. Although they were dry and collapsed, they bore the same style of masks. All were rusted and crumbling, but in the shapes of different animals. A cat, a jackal, an alligator, and others.

Daring turned back to the one that remained standing. “Why is this one...gooey?”  

“Bitumen,” said Caballeron, forcing back his bile. “It was used in ancient times to prepare mummies.”

“It doesn’t smell like bitumen.” Daring Do approached the skeleton, as did Caballeron.	

“It may represent a very early stage of mummification. This pyramid predates any known mummy yet discovered. This could very well have been an...an early attempt, so to speak.”

He leaned closer, holding his breath. It did not smell bad, exactly, but smelled strongly of something. Something unnatural and disturbing.  

“Ah,” he said. “This may be an explanation.” He pulled back. “I highly doubt this was, in fact, ever a pony. The bones, see? They are made of metal.”

Daring Do looked closely. Although they were covered in dripping black material, they were, indeed, slightly metallic.  

“So what?”

“So, these are likely idols of some sort.” Caballeron approached one of the drier, collapsed ones and inspected it. “Yes. As you can clearly see, the masks are bolted directly to the cervical vertebrae. These were assuredly statues.”

“Statues of what?”

Caballeron shrugged. “Pagan gods, I suppose. Before real gods manifested. This is something well documented. Look at the masks. They represent the ancient false-gods of southern Equestria.”

Daring Do knew that, logically, he was right. Something in her gut told her otherwise, though. Ignoring it, she produced a small sample container from a pocket and took some of the black substance from the mummy. She had no idea how to test for bitumen, but she figured there had to be some way.

As Daring Do and Caballeron examined the skeleton, Wun instead approached the cylindrical object that had appeared in front of it. While the others were looking away, she cast a spell, forming a system of concentric rings made out of the symbols that Daring Do could almost read. She pressed them into the primary interface port at the base of the column and began to rotate them, silently imputing the necessary access codes.  

The podium acccepted them. It suddenly hissed, causing Daring Do and Caballeron to jump in surprise. They turned as the cylinder separated and partially retracted, revealing the mechanism contained within.

Daring gasped when she saw it, in part because of how beautiful it was—and because of the deep and terrible dread looking upon it made her feel.

The mechanism was complicated, a system of tubes and wires and strangely wrought metal. She did not understand it—but what she saw at its very center was a disturbing gemstone, a slightly elongated and perfect octahedron held in by a system of complicated clasps and clamps. It was a terrible blue-green color, and seemed to flicker and shine with internal energy without ever moving.  

Caballeron’s eyes widened as he stepped forward, but Daring Do could not bring herself to approach the thing. Wun, though, was smiling over it. In its glow, she barely looked like a pony.	

“Wun...what is that?”

“This is what we came for,” she said, her eyes flitting upward toward Daring Do.  

“That’s impossible,” whispered Caballeron. He had started to shake.  

“Wun,” said Daring Do, more firmly. “What is that?”

“A very large gemstone,” she said, “made of a very special substance.”

“Revenite,” whispered Caballeron.

Wun’s smile grew. “Yes. Only seventeen pieces were known to exist historically. Eight known pieces survive to this day, the largest at approximately three carats. I own six of them. In addition to eleven very special pieces that are not currently known. Including this.” She produced her necklace. The gemstone in it, Daring Do realized, was the exact color as the one before her. Except it was smaller than the octahedron by far. It had quite clearly been cut, and in an especially peculiar way.

“What does it do?”

“Do?” Wun’s head tilted slightly. “Daring, it does not ‘do’ anything. It is simply a very valuable gemstone, nothing more.”

“It is quite literally priceless,” said Caballeron.  

“Nothing is priceless. But a single fragment can sell for...well, more money than most cities worth of ponies would see in fifty of their tiny lifetimes.”

“But it’s just a gem.”

“A gem of unique rarity.” Wun stared at her prize. “We have no idea what it is made of. In fact, our tests seem to indicate that it is made of nothing at all.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Why not? It simply means that the stone is metaphysical in nature. Not made of matter, or energy, but something else that is neither. Something that cannot be harnessed, produced, or manufactured anywhere in Equestria.” Her eyes turned to the other podiums. Daring Do followed her gaze, and she realized that all of them had been badly damaged. Torn apart, and ripped to pieces. Their central clasps stood empty. This column was the only one with its gem still present.

“I have reason to believe that all pieces originated here. They were looted in antiquity, cut, and their fragments sold as the jewelry among kings and gods alike.”

“Kings driven insane by them.”

Wun smiled. “I am a Perr-Synt. We are remarkably resilient. Is that not correct, Daring?”

Daring did not respond. She could not look away from the gem.  

“That piece,” said Caballeron, looking up. “Its value could fund the entirety of the Equestrian military for a century. What...if I may ask, what are you intending to do with it?”

“Yeah,” said Daring. “Are we going to take it and go?”

“Go?” Wun almost laughed, but seemed vaguely appalled. “No. Firstly, it is the shiny. We do not touch the shiny. Not now, perhaps not in your lifetime. Touching the shiny is always bad.”

“But you came all the way out here for it--”

“Yes. And I own it. I own this land, this pyramid, and this shiny. It can stay here until I am fully prepared to remove it, if I even do. In fact.” She looked up. “These mummies. They are almost equally valuable to me. I am currently considering how to move this entire room, intact, and as it is. I would like to possess the whole of it. To walk through it as it is now...or to restore it to it once was.” She smiled and looked at Daring Do. “As the Horseuncommon exhibit was. When you were only five. Do you remember?”

Daring tried to smile. It was one of the few good memories she had. “Yeah.”

“Then it is settled. The archaeological team will begin in this room, cataloging the spell, the staffs, and most importantly securing the integrity of my mummies. Or, rather, what integrity they have left.”

“And the gem?” asked Caballeron.

“I already said that,” said Wun, sharply. Her magic flashed, casting a spell on the access controls and sealing the gem back inside its housing. “I think this is enough excitement for today. We have made so much progress! We shall celebrate with steak. Firm earth archeologist, do you like steak as much as I do?”

Caballeron stared at her, seemingly disappointing he could no longer look at the gem. “I—um--er--”

“Come to my tent if you like, and I will give you plenty to eat. Or do not. It is not really my problem. I am in a good mood. Survival for all!”

Wun turned and began departing the room back through its ruined door. Caballeron looked back at Daring Do, who just shrugged. He then began to follow Wun, although probably not all the way back to her tent. Daring started to follow too, but then stopped.  

She looked back over her shoulder, at the sha mask and the dripping skeleton tethered to cables and wires. Its empty, glassy eyes seemed to stare back at her.

For a moment, she could have sworn she heard a whisper.
> Chapter 7: Young Pegasi Tend to Flirt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Night fell, and it was unlike any night Daring Do had ever seen. Nearly every night she could remember involved a world illuminated by artificial glow, from magical lamps, fireflies, candles and fires and strange inventions involving glass and vacuum seals. She supposed that the light from below was the reason she could never see the stars above.

Except here, there were no stars. There was no moon. Only blackness, and a darkness she could feel. Had it not been for the feeble lights strung through the camp, she would have been totally unable to see even a hoof in front of her face, let alone move around. It was almost darker than the inside of the tomb.  

She understood why the griffons had not seen the thestrals. The thestrals, she supposed, did not need to see.

In the camp, though, life was still bustling, although more slowly. Most of the tents had been rebuilt, and the griffons had stacked themselves inside several of them in large, purring piles. At least the ones that Captain Gruff had not goaded into the night watch. At least half of them were patrolling the camp. Most looked sleepy and annoyed, but a few waved to her as she passed. They knew who was paying them.  

Most of the archaeological team, likewise, had gone to bed. Their lights were out, and they were sleeping soundly, preparing for the work they would have the next day when the sun arose. If it ever did rise. In this region, that was not a certainty.  

Wun, though, was not asleep. She rarely did. Her light was visible on the distant side of the camp, illuminating the largest of the tents with a strange and unnatural glow.

In the distance, Daring could see the shadows beyond the camp. As if the light just stopped. And, from that, she saw the reflection of eyes. She heard them sometimes call. The sha were watching.

Also at the edge, she Cretin standing as still as he could, trying to look as non-suspicious as possible and failing at it badly. In fact, he was barely standing. He seemed to be leaning at an almost impossible angle.

Then the shadows beside him moved. Thestrals emerged at the edge of the camp, not knowing that Daring Do was watching. One of them approached Cretin, looking around suspiciously. The pair of them stood there for a moment, looking around before the thestral produced a large bottle of punch from her robes. Cretin, likewise, produced a mango. They traded the two in silence. By the time Cretin had finished drinking it, the thestrals were gone and Cretin stood there, dumbfounded as to where the bottle had gone. He had, apparently, drank the whole thing. 

Daring Do started laughing, although tried to be quiet about it. She supposed the thestrals were maybe not as bad as she thought, just hesitant. Maybe by the time the dig showed them that there was really nothing to be afraid of, they would even be friendly.  

Yawning, Daring Do decided that it was probably time for her to go to bed as well. She herself did not have to do any actual work, but she still needed to be fresh for the next day. Maybe the archeological team would even let her help.

As she thought about the team and walked to her tent, she suddenly stopped. A thought had occurred to her, and her heartbeat suddenly quickened. She had realized that there was, in fact, a good chance that Caballeron was still awake—and that no one was stopping her from going to his tent instead of hers.

The idea of it was simultaneously frightening and terrifying. Going to a colt or stallion’s tent at night was something she, for the first time, could do, probably without any sort of consequences—but she had no idea if that was a thing she would normally do. She never had a chance. The only colts she had ever known were servants, and half of them were geldings. The other half were always perpetually serious.  

“That’s not the point,” she said to herself. “I would just be saying hi. He’s probably sleeping anyway.” She took a few steps forward. “Besides. He’s a jerk anyway. A firm, strong, archaeology-minded jerk...”

A passing pair of griffons snickered, pointing. Daring looked back, and realized that her wings had betrayed her.  

“Darn it,” she muttered, admitting defeat. Then, against her own better judgment, she found herself walking to his tent.  

It was on the far edge of the village. He had picked a spot not far from the pyramid itself. Daring paused, breathing hard and considering turning back, but she saw dim light under the edge of his tent. He was still awake.	

“Just saying hi,” she said, taking a breath.  

She approached the tent, pushing back the flap. It was a relatively large structure, one meant to hold a small bag for sleeping, a desk, and a place for him to work in translations in peace. 

“Hey, Pontracio,” she said. “So, runes, right?”

She face-hooved, realizing how stupid that sounded. Only then did she notice the sight of his hooves splayed out on the floor, behind his desk.

“Wait, what the—hey, Caballeron!”

She turned the corner to find him shirtless. This sight normally would have been either critically embarrassing or deafeningly exciting—despite the fact that most ponies did not, in fact, ordinarily wear clothing—except that he was slumped against his overturned chair, sweating and pale, clutching his right hoof. His upper limb was red and swollen, with a number of red lines extending from a pair of red holes. Fang marks.

Caballeron sat up from his daze in a start, wincing from the pain as he moved. He saw Daring Do and reached for his shirt, pulling bandages over the wound. “Do you MIND?! Did you even KNOCK?!”

“It’s a tent, how the heck am I supposed to knock?” Daring Do reached out and pulled back the bandages, once again revealing the wound. She looked at Caballeron, aghast. “The snakes, one bit you.”

“Such powers of observation you possess.”

“But that was hours ago, in the tomb when--” Daring Do gasped and reddened. “It must have been when you saved me...”

“If it had bit you, you would be in a coma within an hour, or worse. But I am an earth pony we are...” He winced. “...more resistant. In ancient times, the unicorns would inject us...with venom...to generate antivenom...”  

“This isn’t ancient times! You’re sick--”

“And I will recover. Just leave me alone.” He pulled his shirt on, or tried to. He tried to stand, but the pain set him back down on the floor and so he instead sat up, as if he intended to calmly sit there.  

“You’re not okay. Hold on! Stay right there!”

With a rush of air, Daring shot out of the tent, nearly tearing it down in the process. She vanished into the night.

Caballeron rolled his eyes. “And where, pray tell, am I supposed to go?” He groaned. “I can’t walk...and I’m in a desert...in the middle of nowhere...no hospitals, no medicine...”

Daring Do suddenly returned, dropping a pile of various dried plants on the ground. Caballeron stared at them, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think a salad is what I need right now.”

“If you’re not going to help, shut your speech hole.” Daring Do began picking up the herbs and shoving them in her mouth, chewing them loudly. 	

“You close your speech hole, that is disgusting! Where you raised in a barn?!”

Daring Do made a rude gesture, and then rolled the ball in her mouth. She grasped Caballeron’s foreleg and pulled it outward. Caballeron nearly fainted from the pain as Daring Do spat the contents of her mouth into the wound, and then slapped it with great vigor.

“What in the name of Celestia’s tail dock!” screamed Caballeron, recoiling. “That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life and...” He frowned, and then looked down. “...and it no longer hurts?”  

“Snakeroot, blue nightshade, buckthorn, creeping oleander, and equal parts bloodgrass and devil grass. Also some cinnamon, usually, for the smell, but we didn’t have any so...don’t sniff it.”

Caballeron’s eyes widened. “Half those are toxic and the other half are deadly.”

Daring rolled her eyes. “Trust me. I learned at a very young age not to swallow.” She frowned. Then her legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground.

“Daring!”

“Making it does poison ponies, though. A little bit. Um...is it okay if I wait here with you for a little bit? Until it wears off and I can, you know...walk?”

Caballeron sighed. He sat up and pulled a blanket off his meager bed and threw it over her. She grabbed the edges and pulled it around her. “Thanks.”

“Creeping oleander will lower your metabolism. Honestly, what a reckless thing to do.” He sat up, flexing his limb. It ached, apparently, but did not pain him nearly as severely as it once had. “Where did you even learn to do that?”  

“My father keeps zebras. Ones he retrieved when on safari. Some of them taught me how to do things.”

Caballeron frowned. “Ah,” he said. “Safaris. The wealthy in the savanna, shooting pictures of animals.”

Daring’s expression darkened. “Sure…‘pictures’...”

“A strange thing for you to know. When your father could pay for the very best of medical care.”

“Says the guy who took a snake to the leg for me. And trust me, it’s not the first time I’ve used it.” Daring pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing a small, barely perceptible scar of two small dots.  

Caballeron squinted. “What was that?”

“A cobra. When I was eight. I snuck out and got into the Singapone jetstream. Took it all the way to jungles up north. I was lost for three weeks.”

Caballeron’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

Daring Do parted the blanket, pointing at her rump. “Compass cutie mark. I had to get it somewhere.”  

“And your father never sent somepony to look?”

Daring chuckled, putting her rump back under the blanket. “You’ve never lived with unicorns, have you?”

“No. Not generally.”

“They don’t experience love. Just calculation, I guess. I could get attacked by cobras in front of them, they would expect me to deal with it while they just watch.  It’s expected.” Daring sighed. “It’s something you learn to tolerate.”

“Apart from being a member of the wealthiest family in Equestria and having limitless funds, sure. I suppose that must be a terrible life.”

Daring frowned. “I never said it was hard. My life is great. Just...” She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how to describe it. I’ve never talked about it before.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just how my life went.”

“No. Not that.” Caballeron sighed. “I’ve been unduly mean to you. I’m sorry for that.” He shifted position, sighing. “You did save my life down there.”

“And you saved mine.” Daring pointed at his leg.  

“But you beat me a second time. If I had translated that lock wrong, who knows what it would have done to us?” He smiled slightly. “Although I still maintain that my translation was the correct one.”

“But the rune--”

“Reacted to the pure blood of a unicorn. Who is also part of the Trinity. Her blood would have worked for either translation, so at present we have no proof one way or the other.”

Daring Do stared at him, and then laughed softly. Caballeron did as well.	

“Alright, fine. We’ll call that one a draw. So we’re even, then?”

“I don’t keep score when it comes to mares.”

Daring felt herself blushing—or probably would have been, had her blood pressure not been falling to a dangerously low level.  

“Heh...well, I showed you mine. How about you show me yours?”

Caballeron gaped. “Ex—excuse me?!”	

“Your cutie mark. You’re a linguist with a golden skull on his flank. That’s not exactly normal.”

“Ah.” Caballeron turned himself, looking down at the mark. Then he shifted again, staring at the tent wall. “Indeed. I suppose it’s only fair. You see, I am a pony of quite humble birth. I am Andalucian. My parents were farmers. We were quite poor.”

“Oh,” said Daring Do, looking down at the floor. She somewhat understood why he did not like her.

“Life was not easy. One year, the rain, it did not come. Not when it should have. And the crops were dying. We would have starved.”

“But what happened?”

“I struck out to plow a new field. And when I did, I found an incredible artifact. How it got there, I do not know. Perhaps dropped by a retreating army in ancient times, or left from a band of thieves. But it was valuable. Solid gold. When we sold it, we had enough money to survive that year.”

“You saved your family?”

“Yes,” said Caballeron. A thin smiled crossed his lips, but his eyes were desperately cold. “I did. And finding it was my spark of inspiration. My parents wanted me to be a farmer, like them. But I had resolved not to live in poverty.”

“So you became an academic? You went into the wrong field.”

“I went into the field I was good at. And with some know-how and hard work, I can make money here, too. It only requires patience.”  

“So for you its finding the artifacts.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why you went into archaeology. I felt it too. When we found that honker of a crystal. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

Caballeron’s smile grew. “You might say that, yes.” He shrugged. “So many of my peers are content to sweep dirt to dig up tiny shards of broken pots and claim them as exquisite victories. As a linguist, I could make my career in a library. Yet I do not.” He paused again. “I think...I think you might be the first pony I have met who understands why.”   

“For me it’s a little different, I think.” Daring Do shifted under her blanket. “When I was little, my dad was...distant, and Wun was...well, Wun. I know I’m rich, so I never needed anything, really. I had food, fancy clothes, tutors of every language and on every subject...but they never really understood me, I guess. Except when it came to archeology.”

“Wun Hun-Dredd Perr-Synt is known worldwide for his extensive collection of artifacts. And, from what I hear, his eldest nearly matches it.”

Daring smiled. “When it came to those, there was...I guess a connection. We understood each other. All three of us. When I was a filly, that was my favorite thing. For him to show me the artifacts and talk about the cultures they came from, and the places they were taken from, and the stories that came with each one.”

“And you never set out to find them on your own?”

“I never thought I could. I had to beg Wun to ask for me on this trip.” She chuckled. “I used to spend nights dreaming about the tombs and temples my father described. Of walking through them, seeing the makes of ancient cultures, solving their puzzles and unlocking their secrets.” She looked up at Caballeron, who was himself blushing slightly. “I guess it isn’t really like that, though?”

“It is mostly sweeping dust and reading books, frankly.”

“I thought so.”

“But...on your very first day here, we did find that...how did you put it? The ‘honker’ of a crystal?”

Daring laughed, and in trying to suppress it accidentally snorted. Caballeron chuckled.  

“Well, I suppose passion for the subject must be genetic,” he admitted, eventually. 

“I think I’m living proof it isn’t.”

Caballeron raised one of his large eyebrows. “I do not understand.”

Daring Do pointed to her forehead. “I don’t exactly have a curved horn, if you didn’t notice.”

“Well, I had assumed that your mother—”

“Was the maid?”

Caballeron reddened and sputtered. “I—I had not said that, nor implied--”
Daring laughed. “That’s most people’s first thought, isn’t it? Fluffy, innocent Pegasus girl and a wealthy, unmarried purelbood unicorn? It makes a nice story, right? Sometimes I even like to believe it myself. Except they’re not like us. Different chromosomes.”  

“I’m sorry, I did not realize--”

“My biological father was Ner-Do-Well.”

Caballeron gasped and leaned forward. “The famous art dealer, by far the most successful of his kind in all of Equestria? You’re HIS daughter?”

“If by ‘art dealer’ you mean ‘broker in illegal, stolen, and culturally critical, sacred artifacts torn from the peoples who created them and marketed to the ultra-rich to put in their bathrooms’?”

“You make it almost sound repugnant, when his acumen was so legendary—but he has not been seen in fifteen years...”

“Because he went into hiding. And left me with his biggest client.” Daring Do sighed. “Celestia...I’ve never told this to anypony before...”

“If I may be cruel?”

“You haven’t asked before.”

“Because I did not like you before. Why disparage your father when you are continuing his work?”

Daring sighed. She was amazed how easily he had seen through her, to the thing that had kept her up at night for the better part of a decade. “I figure that artifacts are just artifacts. It doesn’t matter if they’re in a tomb or in Wun’s museum. But if Wun has them, they’re safer. Nopony gets hurt, and the artifacts stay safe. Even if they’re sacred, they can be sacred on a shelf with a little brass tag.”  

“How amoral.”

Daring’s wings stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“It means lacking morality.”

“Great. Stop getting my hopes up.”  

“I am sorry. But it is not illogical. Noble, even, to protect them. And you clearly show great loyalty to your sister, which is always admirable. I had no siblings myself out of poverty. But I assume you two grew up together?”

Daring shrugged. “Wun very much liked the idea of having a little sister. She was in her late seventies at the time, and I think she was getting lonely.”  

Caballeron sputtered. “Seventies?”

Daring grinned at him. “Unicorns don’t age like we do.”

“But the things she was saying to me—such lewd things--”

“She has an earthie-boy fetish.”

“I am not a boy! I am a stallion!”

“Not compared to her. And if you did walk over there? You could definitely get a snuggle.”

Caballeron stared at her, perplexed and disturbed. “And...should I?”

“My advice? Definitely not. Not ever. It’s a trap.”

Caballeron winced. “As in…?”

“As in, she makes ponies think they can use her affection for them as leverage. But you can’t. Unicorns don’t feel affection. She leverages it against you.”

“But…but why earth ponies?”

Daring Do stared up at him. “Because she likes to watch your kind atrophy and age while she stays young forever. It makes her feel powerful.” 

“Ah.” Caballeron shivered. “Then I shall not.”

“You can snuggle me if you want, though?”

Caballeron turned several shades of red darker. Daring Do roughly matched the color.

“I—I do believe that would be highly inappropriate,” he said.  

Daring almost collapsed from embarrassment. “Yeah, I figured it was. But you don’t get far in life without taking risks?”

“Age about two years and try again when your father is not paying me.” Caballeron reached behind him and removed another blanket from his bed. The night had started to grow very cold. “I am a professional, after all.”

“I know.”

“That said...” He wrapped the blanket around himself and lay down, facing Daring Do. “If you wish, you can sleep here tonight. I do not feel comfortable letting you be alone after the herbs you’ve been exposed to. Besides, we need to wake up early tomorrow. Although you clearly lack any formal training in the subject, I think that working together we can make considerable progress.”

Daring smiled. She could barely hide that she was overjoyed by his confidence. “I would very much like that.”

Caballeron smiled back. “Then go to sleep.”

Daring Do knew that she would certainly be able to—and promptly collapsed into a heap, snoring away on the desert floor.
> Chapter 8: Apex Predator
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wun Perr-Synt, Scion of House Perr-Synt, sat in her chair in near-complete silence. A wooden desk had been brought for her, and it sat out before her, illuminated by the slowly circling lights that she had effortlessly projected and now absentmindedly maintained. Several sheets of paper had been laid out before her, and she held a fountain pen in her magic, occasionally spinning it into the air before catching it again.  

She had long ago reached the age where insomnia had largely superseded sleep. That tended to be a byproduct of age far greater than that which could be obtained by lesser ponies. For them, a product of regrets, usually, although Wun was fully incapable of remorse and therefore lacked that problem. For her, it had always been the whispers. They disturbed her. The voice of the One True Goddess that came to her in the depths of her darkest dreams.

Son instead, she had changed her clothing, assuming a sleek sleeveless dress and silken gauntlets that nearly reached her shoulders. In that comfortable state, she had elected to draft a letter to her father. A box of plump pigeons were waiting in silence, terrified of her, prepared to fly across the great desert and return home. All Wun needed to do was finish the letter.

It was not a matter of sentiment. She felt no love for her father, in accordance with how he had taught her. Rather, it was a report on the mission. That they had arrived, and the revenite had been located. Further, Wun had outlined several plans for future inspection of the tomb.  

She was weighting if sending a cloudbreaker to clear the storms was worth it. It would be necessary if she wanted to remove any substantial parts of the temple without having to slice the larger statues and structures to pieces and reassemble them.  

The other option, though, was that she could invest from her personal ventures the money necessary to claim this tomb as her own. A new home, even if only for the winters. This pyramid sat on the southernmost edge of Equestria, beyond which was assumed to be nothing at all but which might be entirely new lands. It was the last known thing. The possibilities of opening the shipping company to such a location were manifold—and the risk incredible.  

The thought of living in the pyramid itself, though, was a temptation that was almost too great to manage. In an indestructible monument to ancient glory, so that she could forever have it all to herself. No one could move the Pyramid. It would be hers, and hers alone.  

Her thoughts kept wandering, though. Her long, pointed ears probed the silence, listening for hoofsteps. In her on way, she had hoped that Caballeron would come. That she would not be alone and cold, that she could claim ownership of something alive for once. Of course, she knew he never would. Not unless he wanted something very desperately. No earth ponies ever did. They understood instinctual what Wun knew consciously. She was not like them. As a unicorn, her race had descended from Equestria’s apex predator, and the earth-ponies and Pegasi from the ancient prey. This was why she so dearly loved the fear in their eyes—and why she was sure that there did not exist an earth-pony so prodigiously stupid as to ever attempt to truly attempt her.  

This was another thought she considered as she continued to hold her pen, listening, staring into the deep shadows her spell cast. She continued to throw it up, spinning it, and catch it, again and again, listening. Until she saw one particular shadow move.

The pen shot across the room with incredible force, it’s scandium tip embedding several inches deep in one of the wooden columns that supported the roof of Wun’s tent. She heard a high squeal and, in her light, saw limbs flailing.

With the hood of her robes pinned, the tiny thestral slid out of the bottom of it, landing on her back. She looked down at her gray self and gasped.

“GAH! Nudity!”  

“Would you have preferred I aimed lower?”

The thestral sopped flailing and stood up. She tilted her head. She was a filly, barely of cutie-marking age. “But how did you see me? Ponies like you can’t see so good!”

“I can. Likewise, my pointed ears, although glorious, are for more than show. You make a relentless squeaking as you move. I rather hate it.”

“That’s the echolocation! Wow, you can actually hear it?!”

“I have the capacity to listen. Do you not?”

“I do!” The thestral bounded forward. She had pale blue eyes, and an otherwise dark body. “I’m the Avatar of Curiosity! That means my name in your syntax is Curiosity! And you’re the one who grabbed my wings.” She frowned. “That hurt really bad, in my wings but also in my feelings. It was mean. Why did you do that?”

Wun magically summoned her pen, pulling it from the wood and refilling it with ink. “Because I was facing a pony named ‘Honor’. The name implies that he would be glad to fight me, but that attacking children would distress him and leave him mentally unbalanced. I could then leverage that situation to produce an outcome with a minimum of...mess.”  

“Oh, wow!” Curiosity’s eyes grew wide. “You’re so smart! Is that pointy thing part of your brain? Can I touch it?”	

“It extends to the center of my brain, yes. And no to the second part.”  

“Why is it curved? Are you one of those filly-foolers?”

“Why? Are you?”

“I vex all the fillies without relent!” she cried, putting her front hooves in the air. “I vex all! ALL! Or at least that’s what Honor says. And you can’t answer a question with another question, that’s rude!”

“I threatened to excise the wings of a child named ‘Adorableness’. Rudeness is not my concern.”

“Yes, she is still crying and hiding. But in a cute way. That was super mean. Are you all mean, or is it just you?”

Wun smiled, not showing her teeth. “How about a deal, perhaps?”

“No, I will not do a little dance for money!” Curiosity paused, then hung her head in shame. “Actually I will...my family is really poor...”

“Not that kind of deal. For every question you ask me, I shall answer. In exchange, you may answer one of mine.”  

Curiosity gasped, her pale eyes lighting up. “Oh wow! Sure, that sounds great! But I have so many questions, I don’t know which to ask! Which one should I ask first?”

“My name, I would think.”

“Oh wow, that’s a great idea!”

“I have answered your question. Now it is my turn.”

“Gosh darn it!” sighed Curiosity. “I wasted one!”

“There is no rush. How many thestrals live in this are?”

“Exactly forty-eight, including me! Twelve of them are really little and don’t have their cutie marks yet, but they’re really sick because they’re too small.” Her excitement faded for a moment. “And...well...you know how it is. Some of them won’t get cutie marks anyway.” She perked up. “But with all the magic medicine you brought, the might make it that long now! Yay!”

“That means the rest them are your age.”

“No! There’s only a few, we were all born at the same time. Most of them are super old. Not as old as Wisdom, but way old. They’re not so happy about you being here. Only Honor and Dignity are not young and not old. And the old ones say they need to get married soon, even though they’re siblings. I had a sibling once. He never got a name.”  

“Those are the two with those unusual swords. Well, I do suppose most of your kind have swords like that.”

“No way! There’s only two swords, that’s all we have! The rest is spears, and you broke all those. We can’t make more because we don’t have any more sticks. So we don’t really have weapons right now except whips I guess, but Honor told me not to tell anypony. He’s worried that if you knew that, you might send all those scary cat-guys to use their boom-sticks on us.”

“That would be possible. I have no need to right now, though.”  

“I don’t think you’d do that anyway. You’re super mean, but you’re not stupid. And there’s no way you could know how many of us there are , we move in a way that makes our forces seem really big. And the weapons part? That’s a super-big secret, so no way you’ll ever find out.” Curiosity paused, frowning. “Wait a minute...”

“I think it is time for your question.”

Curiosity gasped. “It IS!” She began to hop excitedly. “Okay! What is your name?”

“Wun.”

Curiosity gasped. “Like the Chosen Wun?”

“It is not your turn.”

“Darn it,” swore Curiosity.  

“Second question,” said Wun. She leaned back in her chair and her spinning pen suddenly stopped, pointing toward the Pyramid. “Why exactly do you protect that pyramid?”

Curiosity paused. She suddenly seemed highly afraid. That excited Wun, because it meant she had asked a correct question.  

“We’re...we’re not supposed to talk about that.”	

“Then you can go back to whatever hole you live in and I can progress with my insomnia, and the game will end. I am willing to allow you to depart. I will not even sell you to the griffons.”

“That’s really nice of you...” Curiosity inhaled sharply. “We don’t talk about it. Nopony ever does, except when one Wisdom talks to the new Wisdom. But...I think Honor knows. He’s not as mean as he looks. He just likes the old traditions...” She turned her head to the direction of the Pyramid, staring for several seconds. “This isn’t my question, so you don’t have to answer...but can’t you feel it?”

“This one is also not my question: feel what?”

“It watching. How it always watches, and never stops. The eye in the top of it. There’s not really an eye, but...we don’t like getting near it. We don’t build windows facing it. Only the mound-breakers, what you call sha, only they get close. Because they are evil things.”

“So you consider it cursed.”

“Honor says we need to protect it,” she said, growing more agitated. “That there’s something in there. I think that’s the Eye, but I don’t know. We don’t actually know what’s in there anymore, except Wisdom. But it can’t ever come out because that would be bad.” She paused. “Maybe...I don’t know. Maybe there were once enough of us to stop it, but there aren’t anymore...”

“This sounds like superstition.”

“It is. But that’s the tradition. That’s what Honor likes, but I don’t like it that much. Because we can’t leave. You came from the far side of the Red Desert. You’re the first one in a long time. Before I was born, someone came. Wisdom said he had no leg, and that something was wrong with his eyes. That he had a very bad mark on his hoof.”  

“I do not understand what that means.”

“I know! Neither do I! I really wanted to be the next Wisdom so I could know everything, but I’m too annoying. According to Honesty. I don’t like her.” She sighed. “But we don’t know what’s out there. None of us have never gone that far, ever.”  

Wun raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “Do your kind know the name ‘Nightmare Moon’?”

“It’s not your turn.”

Wun shrugged. “Indeed. Your answer was uninformative but has tickled me. You may ask the next.”

“The pretty pony, the one with the fluffy wings like the cat-meanies. What is she?”

“A Pegasus.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. What is she, to you?”

Wun paused, wondering if that counted as a second question. She decided to be charitable. She had already eaten. “She is my sister.”

Curiosity gasped. “But she’s so little, and not as scary as you are!”

“Yes. I am aware of this.”  

“I saw her outside when I came in here. She was flying around to all your boxes, taking all kinds of green stuff and grass out.”

Wun frowned. “And where is she now?”

“That’s your question! She went to the tent with the fancy-smelling earth pony.” Curiosity leaned forward and whispered. “I think they’re snogging right now! I wanted to watch, but Dignity says I should stop doing that, so I didn’t.”

Wun’s head tilted, and she leaned back in her chair, stabbing her pen into the table. “Then she has undercut me. This is unexpected.” She shrugged again. “However, I suppose it had to happen sometime. They age quickly. He is a poor match for her, but she needs the experience if I am ever to expect fluffy little nieces and nephews.” 

“Do you have children at home? I mean, where you come from?”

Wun’s expression darkened. “No.”

“That’s okay. Some of us are like that, because the disease makes us not able to. From eating the bad mushrooms when the good ones run out. They say I’m like that now after the last famine.”  

Wun’s eyes tilted upward sharply. “I assure you, I am quite capable of reproduction. And it is mandated that I produce.”

“Well, it'll happen eventually, I guess. You just have to find sompeony that's...I don't know, blind maybe? So he can't see the scary?”

“No. There is no 'eventually'. I am a pureblood. I can only breed with another pureblood.”

“That’s stupid.”

“That is my obligation. Except that I am the last pureblood of my type. The rest have become contaminated. The High Houses of Western Equestria have refused my pairing requests because of my color, and the colored purebloods there no longer keep to the ancient ways.”

“But you’re supposed to marry somepony you love.”

“I am a unicorn. We are incapable of both love and pain. Such is the burden of absolute racial superiority. I am the last of my line, a burden I will carry for at least seven centuries. Without a pureblood mate, no child I ever produce could rightfully be referred to as my daughter.”

“Then what would you refer to them as?”  

Wun’s head tilted the other way. “It is not your turn.”  

Curiosity just nodded. “Okay.”

“How do you feel about needles?”

Curiosity frowned. “I’ve never seen one. We’re too poor for them. But Wisdom told stories about having seen one, once. I really would like to see one.”

“Excellent.” Wun produced from below her desk a pair of enormous steel needles, their ends sharpened to lethal points.

Curiosity’s eyes widened. She could not stop herself. “What—what are those for?”

“I cannot sleep, and you are here. So you will be amusing me for...well, until I am done with you.”  

Curiosity did not ask an additional question. She only squeaked.
> Chapter 9: The Shiny
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A griffon was suddenly startled awake. Confused, he looked up at the sky, only to find it dark. This immediately alleviated his instinctive desire to crow, as the crack of dawn had not yet occurred. He was, however, immediately confused as to why he had awoken; being half rooster and half cat, he was unsure if he was supposed to be nocturnal or diurnal.  

He looked over the edge of his guard post atop a crane assembly and saw a pony moving through the darkness, approaching the weird pyramid.

“Hey, hey you! Stop waking me up—I mean, who goes there?!”

The pony moved his torch closer to his face, and the griffon recognized him as the archaeologist pony.

“Doc, what are you doing up? I thought you were muzzle-deep in a pair of fluffy wings right now.”  

The archaeologist seemed strongly displeased by this, and blushed slightly.

“A touch of insomnia,” he sighed. “I can’t sleep. An idea occurred to me, and I simply need to test it out immediately before I can go to bed. It concerns a particular inscription that does in fact bear an unusual homology to a known unicorn runic conformation that was briefly used in the year five hundred seventy-six during the reign of--”

“Save it! I’m not getting paid to listen to blabbering! And, frankly? You’re not getting paid enough to work overtime. You ponies are weird and probably stupid. Go ahead.”

Caballeron nodded and entered the Pyramid. The griffon, maintaining his position of night watchcock, leaned against the black stone of the structure and went right back to sleep.  




Caballeron moved quickly through the tomb. He knew the exact path he needed to take, the only modification being the assembly of a portable roping system over the descent hole. Indeed, the presence of such a hole was almost sure evidence that this structure had, somehow, been built by thestrals, or at the very least some other species capable of flight. With a rope, though, he was able to descend properly. With a slower descent, he could see that the descent was in fact terrifyingly long. The pyramid itself was several hundred feet over the bottom of the hole—a hole with extra thick plated walls stained with odd discolorations.  

Upon landing, he produced his light. He heard the sound of slithering, but by now the snakes new him.

“Pleasssssse nooooooo...” whispered a quiet, rasping voice as they retreated into the unseen crevices of the forgotten temple.  

Beyond them, he knew the way. Through the dark and amongst the skeletons, alone, with only the barest light of his torch to guide him. It seemed so much more ominous in the darkness, and the blackness around him seemed to swirl and reach out. It had grown so much thicker, and in the distance Caballeron could hear things occasionally shifting within it. Quiet things too quiet and too large to be snakes.  

Fear struck him, but he suppressed it. That was simply business. If anything, it was less when he was alone.

Then, in time, he came to the final room. Everything was how it had been left earlier the day, in the same positions as before. The dripping, bitumen statue was exactly where it had been, open and staring through the empty eyes of its mask.  

The statue was not relevant, at least not yet. Caballeron instead approached the podium that stood before it.

Wun had closed and locked it earlier. However, she had been foolish enough to do so while Caballeron was watching. He had noted the fact that she had not fully reactivated the spell, either out of arrogance or from not knowing how to. She had simply shifted the outermost ring over one space.  

Caballeron was prepared. On his descent, he had quickly inscribed from memory the exact symbols she had used. Although he could not read them, he recalled them perfectly, jotting them down using specialized magical ink on a particularly expensive brand of unicornic paper.

He pressed the symbol over the access port, adjusting it as necessary, and completed the shape of the unlocking spell. The runes in the paper ignited, consuming it in flame as the pedestal reacted, opening its outer shell and revealing the massive crystal of revenite within.  

Caballeron smiled. This was the sort of moment he lived for.

Daring Do had unwittingly provided him with a perfect alibi. She, as a result of the herbs she had used to restore Caballeron’s health, had fallen into a deep sleep while facing him—and she would awake to see him sleeping peacefully before him, having been there for the duration of the long desert night.  

It would take the team several days to set up a proper roping system, and to enter this chamber. By then, it would be a simple matter of blaming the thestrals for the loss of the jewel. They had already been established as able to evade the griffons, especially a sleepy night guard. They were likely the ones who had taken the others and sold them to be carved into earrings and broaches—and the fact that they refused to speak to the ponies in the camp only improved their quality as a scapegoat.  

Caballeron unpacked his tools, including a large case. He opened it. It was lined with dimeritium, a fortune’s worth but enough to block the magical signal from the stone. He had already found a hiding place and would collect it at the end of the expedition.  

His other supplies included a variety of things. Some were devices of incredible subtlety, but others were not. From the shape of this stone, the extraction was simply a matter of prying it out.  

He circled it, looking at it carefully from every angle, examining the clasp that held it in. Then, with expert care, he selected his chosen tool: a substantial but thin prybar.  

Inserting the bar into the space near the gem, he began to twist, and then to pull down with great force. As an earth pony, this was not difficult. The gem, however, barely moved. On examination, Caballeron found that the mechanism that held the gem in place had become oxidized, somehow, and the resulting stiffness had trapped the stone in tightly.

So he chose a different tool. A more specialized prybar, intending to brute-force the gemstone out. From what he understood, revanite was virtually indestructible—at least after it had been cut. And if it fragmented, that would be bad—but still profitable regardless. Even easier to hide, if necessary.  

He inserted the new bar and increased the force, putting all his might into the operation.

Suddenly, the bar gave way, and Caballeron fell to the floor. He looked up, prepared to grab the stone before it fell, but found that it had not broken free. Rather, it had changed position.

Something from beneath the gem moved with lightning speed. A new system of clasps, resembling needles surrounded it, followed by a sheath of dark iron. It stood for a moment, aligning itself, and then suddenly retracted to ground level, twisting its way into a different machine and aligning the tubes linking the gem with a new system of conduits and pipes. In this state, only the very tip of the crystal was exposed.   

“Drat,” hissed Caballeron, realizing that he must have activated some sort of protective system. The machine was foreign to him, and time was short. In his rush, he had moved too hastily.	

As he tried to decide what to do next, something suddenly caught his eye. The gem appeared to be changing.

Its brightness increased, and then rapidly began to fade. From the top, it seemed to be almost draining, as if it were filled with liquid. The blue-green glow of it was departing, leaving behind only an inert clear husk.  

The color, instead, began to flow into the hoses linked to the machine. It was visible through a number of small glass windows built into their flexible surfaces, seen moving outward from the machine and toward the bitumen-covered statue.  

Caballeron, horrified at what he might have done to damage the crystal, stared intently at it, desperately searching for a way to stop it—and did not see as the light from the hoses passed through them all the way until it reached the enormous masked figure on the far side of the room, disappearing into what was left of its body where the pipes were linked. He did not see the red lights within its eyes flicker, or the mechanical irises click open and adjust focus.  

A cold breeze suddenly passed through the empty tomb. Caballeron shuddered, and then gasped as his torch went out, leaving him in absolute darkness.

“In the name of Celestia’s...because of course this happens now...”

Caballeron continued to swear as he searched for a tool to relight the torch. Upon finding a flint, he ceased his muttering and began attempting to restore his only source of light. This was not an easy task, considering that he had to use his mouth to operate the flint. It was even harder in the absolute darkness.  

Then, in the silence, Caballeron suddenly froze. In the almost deafening silence, he heard something. The sudden sound of hissing and something falling to the floor. In the strange acoustics of the iron walls, it sounded strange, as if it came from every angle at once—and the silence was quickly restored as the strange echoes faded. Caballeron did his best to dismiss it as a trick of the breeze, a result of a sudden surge of cold air several hundred feet below the nighttime desert above.  

Then he heard another sound. Equally quiet, but so horribly clear.

A single step. A click of a hoof against the metal floor. Then, following it, another—and the sound of usless limb dragging across the floor behind the others. Jagged, mismatched steps of something slowly limping forward in the darkness.  

Caballeron felt himself breathing faster. In the darkness, he could see nothing. He knew there was nothing to worry about but all the fear he had suppressed suddenly came to him all at once. He was alone in an ancient tomb, in darkness, and something was moving. He no longer even cared about the gem, and he stepped forward, trying to find the exit—but found that he had become turned around in the darkness, and met only wall.

The sound continued. Except that it was now not just footsteps. There was something else. Caballeron did not understand what it was, or what it could have been. A ghastly sound, like liquid squelching around itself or something being stretched taught, almost to the point of tearing.  

The hoofsteps grew louder and firmer. A limb dragging, and then a pause. And then the limp was gone.

By this time, Caballeron was in a full panic, his mind refusing to admit what might be in the room with him. Surely snakes. Snakes with a limp. His heavy breathing grew faster and faster, further disturbing the flint, blowing the sparks away from the torch—a torch that had somehow faded to complete blackness, without even an ember, suppressed by some unseen force that did not require ts glow in the slightest. 

Then the hoofsteps stopped. Caballeron froze, holding his breath—and for a moment heard nothing. Then more gurgling, a horrible liquid sound somewhere behind him. Then something wet falling against the floor. Then his breathing resumed. Except it was ragged and strained, sounding sick and horribly diseased.

He then realized that it was not his breath at all. He was still holding his.  

Desperately, he gave the flint one more flick—and the room suddenly flooded with red light.

Caballeron almost laughed, although something caught in his mind. A sudden realization that despite the glow, his torch remained dark. It had not been lit at all. 

He slowly turned and looked up to the source of the light, a halo of red around a horrifying iron sha mask, its glassy red eyes now staring down at him. It no longer sat on the statue of a skeleton, but on a massive, hulking figure of bone and distorted, ragged black flesh. Flesh that was writhing in the red light, rapidly growing and spreading over bone, forming new organs, muscles and skin.  

Caballeron was too scared to scream. All he could do was run, ignoring the darkness and running headlong out of the room and down the stairs, falling most of the way. Through the dark, stumbling and crying, desperately trying to find the way back.	

The red glow remained in the room behind him, turning only slightly as a pair of mechanical eyes scanned the room.  

Then the glow began to move as its owner moved, slowly, in pursuit.
> Chapter 10: A Dangerous Artifact
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The griffon in charge of watching the entrance to the Iron Pyramid was dreaming a dream so pleasant—concerning gold that had been forged into a table to hold up a chest, also made out of gold, so as to hold all his gold—that he purred too hard and woke himself up. For a moment, he was just sad to have lost all his dream-gold—and then horrified to see a largely featherless, one-eyed, fez-wearing face staring back at him.  

“Having sweet dreams, Gorber? Must be nice getting paid good company money to sleep! Why don’t you just go find some sticks, make a nest, lay some eggs and sit down and hatch them?!”

“We’re cats in the back, we don’t do that--”

“I’m about to make you do that, you lazy clump of good-for-nothing sod! I should have you plucked!” Gruff kicked the watchman, nearly dislodging him from his resting place on top of the crane. “First the day shift is too hot for you, now this? We’re getting paid to guard that hole! What are you, some sort of pony, with you’re ‘friendship’ and ‘sharing’? ARE YOU A COMMUNIST?!”  

Gorber sat up. “No, boss, no, I was just--”

“Inspecting your eyelids? You son of a pony, you barely-feathered pullet, you sack of my own feathers! I should have you strung up by the tail and let the ponies beat the candy out of you! I should have you shaved! I should—I should revoke your nip privileges!”

Gorber gasped. “Not my nip! Not my NIIIIIIIIP!”

“Too late, already done! Am I going to have to deduct from your pay? Why, if I tried pulling a stunt like that back in the War, I’d be in a donkey camp wearing a saddle by the time Celestia got her fat horse butt out of bed and started to make it too dang hot out!”  

“But it’s the middle of the night! The only guy who came here was that pony that doesn’t shave!”

Gruff bopped him one. “That was the lead archaeologist, you egg-sucker! You let him in in the middle of the night, all ALONE?!”

“Well, it’s his job--”

“He’s  PONY! They’re fragile! They break if you drop them, or get bruised, or get sad and start crying! What if he slips? What if he gets his stupid face stuck in something? Huh? Then what? THEN WHAT?”

“Uh...we get to stay longer until they replace him, and our contract gets extended?”

Gruff opened his beak to say something, but then closed it. “Actually, that’s not a bad point...you know what, I like the cut of your jib.”

“Thanks, boss---”

“But if I catch you sleeping again, I’ll cut your jib clean off.”

Gorber was about to protest, but was interrupted by the sound of screaming.

“Great,” sighed Gruff. “Guess I was right, like always. Dang fool probably got a splinter, or someone didn’t give him a morning hug...”
Almost on cue, the archaeologist came running from the tomb, disheveled and out of breath. In fact, on the verge of collapse from having been sprinting. He immediately collapsed into the dust.  

Gorber laughed at him, but Gruff immediately knew that something was wrong. Gorber had experience, but Gruff had forgotten more than the young cock had ever even known in the first place. He had seen a great many more things. The things that would eventually drive him mad, he supposed.  

He knew fear. He had seen it on the faces of many. He had seen true fear on the face of the pony who had taken his eye, and he saw it on the face of this one here and now.

“Seal the tomb!” screamed the archaeologist. “Seal it NOW! For Celestia’s sake, SEAL IT!”  

Gorber froze, shocked from the shrill tone of the pony’s voice and the terror within it. He immediately started fiddling with the unbreakable chains that supported the block over the exit, trying to release them to no effect.

“MOVE!” demanded Gruff, throwing Gorber to the ground and taking his sword. He then struck it against the winch that supported the chains, causing it to shatter and collapse. The block it supported fell to the ground with a nearly deafening thud, with the archaeologist barely managing to roll out of the way before it came down, sealing the opening with a massive black stone inscribed with a powerful magical seal.  




The scream followed by the thud of something enormous woke Daring Do. She sputtered awake, cold and shaking, and found herself alone and in pitch darkness. As torches were ignited around her, though, their light illuminated the inside of the tent through its walls. She saw Caballeron’s blankets pushed aside, empty. The felt a sudden surge of disappointment that. It was a feeling she would know many times later in her life, and that she would never quite grow accustomed to. 

As she got up, she reached for her jacket and stepped outside only for the palpable darkness to be cut by a sudden burst of light in the sky. Daring Do looked up to see the streaking trail of a flare fired from the Pyramid. The griffons were already responding to it, converging at the point it had been launched from and to where their commander awaited them.  

By then, though, Daring was already on her way to the point of origin. Her shaking legs made running impossible, so she had elected to fly, and quickly outpaced many of the griffons who were not in the process of securing the camp.  

She reached the edge of the Pyramid only to find that the block held up over the entrance had fallen down and blocked it. For a moment, she was horrified by the thought that it had come down and crushed somepony. Except that she had recognized the scream, and had known it belonged to Caballeron—and though incredibly pale and on the verge of collapse, he was not at all injured.  

“Pontracio, what happened--”

He reached up and grabbed her. His green eyes were wild. He looked insane.

“Not statues—oh sweet Celestia, they were never statues--”  

A second source of light flooded the camp. Daring Do turned to see that a thestral was rapidly approaching her. A thestral wearing what appeared to be an oversized, knitted tea cozy. Not far behind her was Wun, looking either terrifyingly amused or on the verge of disintegrating somepony.  

“What happened?” she demanded.

Caballeron tried to stand to his feet, Daring Do helping him. “It—it—” He looked back to the tomb, and then at Wun. “We need to get out of here. Right now. The seals will contain it, but I don’t know for how—”

Wun suddenly pushed him to the ground. Daring Do, likewise, was knocked back by a sudden surge of magic. As she fell, she was put in the exact position necessary to see the surface of the stone blocking the tomb suddenly ignite as a thin red beam of light passed through it.   

Then, as she fell, the beam expanded, suddenly becoming yards wide. The sand below was instantly vaporized, along with most of the camp in that direction as a perfectly circular hole was burned through it.  

Then she hit the ground, bouncing once and effortlessly turning to a standing position. As she slid backward across the sand, she looked to the entrance of the tomb, through where one of the black stones was now dripping with its own molten slag. Through this void, a figure stepped outward.  

Daring Do instantly recognized the mask—but hardly the thing it was attached to. It was the same mask as before, a piece of segmented material covering a long neck and a face identical to that of the sha: its ears square, almost like horns, and its snout long and disturbingly thin. Except that now it seemed to have small, illuminated eyes that slowly turned in their sockets, scanning the area.  

The body it possessed, though enormous, was somehow at least vaguely equine. Gray and muscular, with the last of its injuries rapidly regenerating into dark-colored flesh. The tail was thick and pure black. The head, though, was covered by the mask, and from the look of it the creature had a substantially longer neck than a pony would.  

Thunder exploded in the distance. Suddenly, the sands around the camp were whipped into a growing storm. Daring saw the lightning. It was deep crimson, and the majority of it directed to the point at the top of the pyramid.  

“Open fire!” screamed Caballeron. “Shoot it! SHOOT IT!”

The griffon near the crane lifted his blunderbuss and, before Gruff could stop him, fired. The shot blast struck the mask of the creature, as well as its body—although whatever wounds it produced healed almost instantaneously. Its mechanical eyes turned, and so did its head. The mask was disturbingly articulated to the long neck beneath.

Red light ignited around one of the massive bricks that sheathed the Pyramid. The seal on it burst, unable to contain the magic that surrounded it. Then the block was torn free and smashed into the crane, destroying it.  

Gruff managed to grab the younger griffon and pull him to safety, but with the stone gone the others began to tumble downward, sliding down and off the immortal iron shell beneath.  

Daring reacted almost on instinct. The thestral girl, staring dumbfounded, was in the path of some of the collapsing debris, and Daring grabbed her, throwing her to safety and barely making it past a hundred-ton brick in the process.  

Through the thunder and collapsing debris, Daring heard Gruff screaming at his mercenaries.

“Open fire, you pullets! OPEN FIRE!”

“Wait, stop—”

The griffons fired their blunderbusses. This time, the creature did not bother being struck. Instead, the space around its head ignited with red light and a sphere formed around it. The sand below melted on contact, as did the lead shots from the griffon’s firearms. Their weapons proved to be harmless in the face of its magic.  

Suddenly, the thestral girl—who Daring Do was still holding—began to violently shake, releasing some kind of ultra-high-pitched sound. Daring dropped her, covering her own ears, and the girl continued to squeak wildly. She had no idea if this was some kind of involuntary spasm or convulsion, or if she was hurt—until from the distance she heard similar sounds descending from the hills.

When she turned back to the creature, she saw that it had moved—and that Caballeron was directly in its path. The debris had trapped him—but not the creature. As it approached, even under constant fire from the griffons, it simply overturned the gargantuan stones in its way, flipping them over without any apparent effort.  

“Pontracio, look out!”

He looked to Daring, and she saw the fear in his eyes. Then, from behind, he was suddenly grasped by translucent tendrils of magic. He screamed—rather girlishly—and was dragged across the sand toward the creature.  

Daring took flight, charging toward him, but it had already lifted him before it. A thin stream of magic reached out from its head to his, and Caballeron began to convulse. His eyes rolled back, and his mouth began to foam. He almost seemed to be growing thinner in response to the spell. Then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

“You son of my own MOTHER!” screamed a griffon voice as several reloading griffons were thrown out of the way. Gruff, on the far side of the monster, lifted a canvas bag and lobbed it at the creature. “EAT IT!”

The creature turned its head as the bag struck its shield. The canvas bag ignited as it was vaporized—and the spell struck the dynamite contained within it.

Daring had only barely had a chance to cover her eyes, but was thrown back by the sudden explosion. It was louder than anything she had ever heard—and then quiet, a simple ringing replacing the deafening roar.  

One of the fallen blocks had protected her from the blast, but the force of it had still been substantial. She stood up, coughing, and squinted to find the creature already regenerating from the injuries it had sustained. In order to capture Caballeron, it had weakened its shield—the shield that now was fully sealed around Caballeron’s body, having protected him from the blast.  

It dropped him and reignited its shield. Around it, the sand suddenly ignited, a rune forming around it. A rune written in the same language Daring Do had seen inside the temple.

The rune shifted and turned, part of it suddenly pointing in a particular direction. The creature adjusted course and began to walk that way.

“Stop it! STOP IT!”

The griffons obeyed their commander, but there was nothing they could do. Many of them had been deafened or temporarily blinded by Gruff’s attack, and the ones that remained had nothing that could penetrate the shield. Some of the more brazen threw down their guns and tried their swords—only to find the steel melt the instant it touched the protective dome around the sha-headed creature.  

Daring ignored it and instead ran to Caballeron. She was drifter of what she would find, but saw that although his eyes were open and blank, he was still breathing.  

“Pontractio!  Hey, Pontracio!” She grabbed him, lifting him gently. “Wake up!”

He did not move—and Daring Do felt a hoof on her shoulder. Wun had appeared over her.

“No. He will not escape my wrath so easily. Wake up, sexy fool!”

She summoned a spell and slapped him with great vigor. When that did not work, she slapped him harder across his face—and then again, and again, and once across the rump for good measure.  

Caballeron blinked and suddenly sat up, coughing and taking a deep breath.

“Genetic divergence exceeding anticipated levels, host incompatibility manifest, cerebral electrical distortion above acceptable parameters, terminating process, living host not recommended, genetic incompatibility confirmed--”

Wun slapped him hard across both the face and rump. Caballeron sputtered and fell to the ground, turning over and spilling his oats.

“What in the name of...Celestia’s girth...”

“You touched the Shiny.”

Caballeron tried to sit up. “What?”

“You touched the Shiny! This is why we do not touch the Shiny!”

“You...you went after the jewel?” asked Daring, feeling abnormally hurt.

Caballeron looked at her, and then looked away. “I have a job to do. But something triggered...” He pointed. “THAT.”

Daring looked up to see the creature walking calmly through the camp, the griffon’s attacks barely noticed. The storm overhead was growing even more powerful, but seemed to be limited to just the upper atmosphere, beyond her range of sight. Somewhere out in the darkness. 

“What is that thing?”

“What it is is irrelevant,” said Wun. “What matters is that I own it, and my possession is attempting to escape.” Wun lifted the thestral girl, who was still dressed in a cozy and still squeaking and vibrating. Wun shook her until she stopped.

“What where why when how WHIIIIIICCCHHH!”

“No. I am not. I require information. Daring, what direction is it heading?”

Daring looked at its path. Even without stars, she had an instinct for its direction—and felt her strength drained.  

“North. But the course it’s going...it’s heading back to the town.”

“It cannot possibly cross the desert on hoof.”

“It seems to be doing a pretty good job of it right now!” Daring Do looked out at it. “If it gets there—”

“It shall not. Curiosity, is there anything that direction with plants? Fields, farms, shrubbery, something green?”

The thestral, Curiosity, looked up. “I think our oasis is that way. It’s where we get all our water. But that’s on the other side of the mountains!”

“Then I will proceed to there. If you cannot stop it, I shall.”

Wun removed the skirt of her dress and then ran forward, her form thin and graceful and capable of almost supernatural speed across the desert sand. It was disturbing to watch her move, but she did so with great purpose.

“We have to catch up with it!” cried Daring Do, running after her sister and the creature.

“I can barely even walk!” cried Caballeron. “That thing—it was—I don’t even know what it did!”

“Suck it up!”

“You suck it up, I’m not about to get in that thing’s way!”

“I already sounded the alarm,” said Curiosity, in a panic. “The others, they’ll get here soon!”

“Great,” muttered Daring, taking flight. “Now we have to deal with a three-way fight!”

She began to race toward the creature, with Curiosity following, her small bat-like wings beating quickly to keep up.  

She quickly caught up to it, hovering overhead. The griffons had now largely retreated, not sure what to do. This was well above their ability, and they had depleted their personal supplies of both powder and shot. Some were already running lines back to the skiff, but most had stepped back or moved to secure the unarmed archaeological team, getting them out of the way.

One pony, though, had not gotten out of the way. Cretin stood directly in the monster’s path, swaying gently in the breeze, several empty bottles lying around him.  

One of Cretin’s eyes slowly moved toward the approaching creature.

“Hey! Hey you! You’re not Nightmare Moon, are you? They never taught me what she looks like, just to fly planes into her!”

The creature did not stop, although slowed slightly.  

“I’m still an ossifer of the Equestrian...something. I don’t know what our military is called. Was called. Even if I’m retired. I think? Nobody left to give orders, can't find them. So I order you to...not do whatever it is you’re doing that’s making so much noise...I’m trying to listen to find that giant beetle that—”

A sudden blinding snap of red magic appeared beside him, and Cretin was thrown to the side with such incredible force that, a fraction of a second later, in the glow of the lightning, Daring saw him impact the base of a massive stone pillar nearly half a mile away. The force of the impact was so great that she heard it over the thunder and, from the damage, the natural stone structure crumbled at its base and began to collapse.

The griffons largely stopped firing at the sight of this. Their morale, it seemed, had taken an equivalent hit.  

Then, in the momentary silence, every shadow seemed to move at once. Suddenly, as if from everywhere at once, the thestrals emerged. Daring felt a momentary glimmer of hope—until she saw that they were barely armed, sometimes only with marginally pointed sticks, or perhaps rocks. They had no weapons.  

Except for one. An especially large thestral mare descended from above, plunging her broadsword into the shield spell surrounding the monster. Instead of melting, the runes upon its surface only ignited brighter, the dark iron of the blade able to withstand the extreme heat as it sparked violently.

The shield spell cracked and split—but before Dignity could strike again, she was grasped by tendrils of magic. She was lifted into place, unable to resist, and a thin stream of magic reached from the creature’s head to hers. She began to convulse, just as Caballeron had, except that it did not drop her nearly as quickly.  

Then it dropped her, and she continued to shake and squeak on the ground. The monster stood for a moment, unmoving, and then a different spell activated. This one surrounded its body and then, after several seconds, collapsed inward. With a pop, it had teleported.  

Daring descended rapidly to Dignity’s side. Her eyes were wide, and she was speaking and chirping wildly in her native language—or what Daring thought was her native language, anyway.

“What’s she saying?” she said to Curiosity, who landed beside her.

“I don’t know! It’s just gibberish!”

A shadow suddenly appeared to descend beside Daring Do. She heard a gasp, and then the sound of a sword being drawn. Suddenly Honor’s blade was pointed at her.

“Let go of her! What have you done, outlander?!”

“Stop!” Curiosity interposed herself between  Honor and Daring Do. “She didn’t do anything, there was a monster!”

“Get out of the way, I’ll have her wings—”

“Have your own wings! She’s just trying to help!”

“It’s worse for her than it was for Caballeron.” Daring Do looked up at Honor. "She's hurt. Pretty bad." 

“We have to get her to Wisdom! He’ll know what to do!” Curiosity tried to help Daring lift Dignity, but it proved impossible due to her tiny size and severe nutrient deficiency.

“Let me help,” said Honor, sheathing his blade. “Take her left side. I shall take the right. Can your fluffy wings actually lift you?”

“Just show me the way to go.”

“We do not have much time. Keep up.”

With that, the three of them took flight, headed toward the mountains that surrounded the Iron Pyramid. They could not have known just how little time they truly had.
> Chapter 11: The Forgotten Guardians
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The strength of the wind was increasing, and the dust had grown thick—dust, and strange fog. Daring could see almost nothing, but Honor did not need to see. He led her onward, and at a quick pace—although not terribly fast for a Pegasus. Daring was not sure if it was an innate slowness to thestral wings, but she doubted it. Although Honor was one of the largest and strongest of the thestrals, he was on the verge of starvation and had lived a lifetime without proper food. His pride simply gave him an impetus to keep pretending that he was strong.

When they landed, the storm had grown increasingly strong, and Daring doubted she could have continued through it. Lightning had begun to flash between clouds of dust, and the sun had started to rise. Through the sand, it looked disturbingly scarlet.

As she descended out of the dust, though, Daring found herself able to see. Although the light was dim, she was shocked by what lay before her.

She had interpreted the crater surrounding the Pyramid as a mountain range. Perhaps it was, or had once been—but as she drew close enough to its top to get a closer view, she realized that it was in fact a system of structures. They were not made out of iron, like the Pyramid, but instead made from bricks carved from black stone drawn from the mountains underneath.

This might have been reasonable, had it not been for the SCALE. They stretched out as far as she could see, structures and towers clinging to the sides of vast columns that Daring Do now realized were almost assuredly artificial. There were turrets and towers larger than the biggest buildings in Canterlot, built at precarious angles onto curving land and into incredible cliffs. At their bases stood the remains of complex irrigation canals at the sides of prodigious sculpted terraced fields.  

Except that everything was in an advanced state of decay. Most of the towers had collapsed, and those that had not were on the verge of doing so. No water flowed through the canals, and they had filled up with sand instead. Where there had once been fields, there was now only desert, spilling from areas where the terrace walls had collapsed and never been repaired. There were no crops, and not even sticks. Nothing had been planted in these fields in a long, long time. 

Daring and Honor landed, gently putting Dignity on the ground. She had recovered, partially, but was too weak to fly. She had been speaking in her own language, and from Honor’s occasional responses it seemed that she was at least partially coherent.  

Two thestrals appeared from the mouth of an immense tower that had long-since collapsed onto its side. One was old, and the other perhaps Daring’s age—although her eyes were milky and nearly silver, a result of severe deficiency.

“Gentleness, Dexterity,” said Honor, now severely out of breath. “She’s hurt. Please...help her.”

The thestrals nodded, with the one possessing working eyes staring at Daring Do for a long moment. She did not appear angry, only terribly afraid as her eyes moved to Daring’s wings.  

They took Dignity, carrying her back to the darkness. Behind Daring, Curiosity landed, and badly. She nearly collapsed on contact with the ground, and Honor had to catch her.

“Honor...the sun...”

“I know.” He removed part of his own cloak and draped it around her. “We need to get inside.”

They started moving as quickly as they could toward the half-collapsed entrance to the tower. Neither moved to stop Daring, so she chose to follow.    

As she drew nearer, she saw a pony sitting beside the entrance—and not a thestral.  

“Cretin? How are you here?!”

“To be honest, I had a partial advantage in speed, at least for the first part. I was ejected with great vigor and possibly an abundance of vim.”

“But that should have broken every bone in your body--”

Cretin held up a hoof. “Alas! I am a Pegasus! Therefore, as a Pegasus, I am a type of chicken. And chickens, as you know, are inherently boneless. I consequently have no bones to break!”  

Daring, confused by this, suddenly heard the sound of metal sliding against metal. Honor had drawn his sword, and pointed it at Daring Do.

“I thank you for your assistance. But this is no place for you, outlander.”

Cretin sighed, standing up and slapping the blade of the sword so hard that it nearly fell out of Honor’s grasp. Daring gasped, not sure how he had managed to slap the edge of the sword without even the slightest injury.  

“Cretin, don’t you--”

“I’m derped. Also, I’ve had my brain removed. Through my nose. It may or may not have been replaced with tesla coils. Also my insides are by this point largely punch. I’m probably flammable. And even I saw what I saw, probably.”

“What are you saying, old stallion?”

“Time is a funny thing. It does not taste like you would expect. Bitter. Like thyme. And we have neither the thyme nor the time for whatever it is you think you're doing.”

Honor stared at him, his eyes narrowing from the pain of the rising sun. “Fine,” he said. “You will both be brought before Wisdom.”

Daring Do frowned. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Who I like or who I do not like has no bearing on these events. The unspeakable is upon us, and the response is defined within him.”  

Daring entered the building and immediately found herself utterly blind. She had forgotten that thestrals lived in near-complete darkness. 

Then something snapped, and the room was filled with a disturbing green light. Daring turned her head to see that Cretin had produced a glow stick and snapped it. Not only that, but he had bitten the top off. His lips were glowing bright green.  

“Did you...drink part of that?”

Cretin stared down at it. “No?”

Daring sighed. “Do you drink everything?”

“Yes. It keeps the command codes from reactivating. Also...” He held the glow-stick to her. “It tastes like GREEEEEEEN.”

He took another sip.

“Just...don’t drink all of it. I need it to see.”

They moved deeper into the ancient hallways, past piles of collapsed bricks and blocked-off pathways that had once stood beneath extensive archways. There were signs that this was more than a simple brick building, that there had been advanced architecture within—and that all that remains was the barest remnants. 

From the shadows, Daring saw thestrals emerge. They came from offshoot hallways, tiny rooms that she supposed were their homes. Many of them were old, and those that were not were sick. Many were blind, and some severely emaciated. Some were shaking, and a few could not even stand at all. All of them were dark, with pale eyes, and watched with fright and distrust as Daring Do walked past them.  

“What...what happened here?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Honor. “This is the life we have always lived.”

“But these ponies, these aren’t infections, this is deficiency--”

“Your voice. It grates our ears. Stop talking.”  

“You’re just repeating what he already knows,” said Cretin, taking another sip from his glow stick. 

Daring ignored him, refusing to accept that Honor could ever force himself to believe his own lies. Instead, she looked to the walls and felt the shadows shifting. The mood of the room had changed. The ponies were still afraid, but of something else. Disturbed, even.  

A sound of hoofsteps on the once-polished stone preceded an elderly stallion, flanked by two younger ponies, one with atrophied wings and one desperately thin.  

Wisdom stared at Daring Do, his eyes wide. “What have you done?”

“The question is what YOU have done,” snapped Honor, stepping toward Wisdom, who did not retreat a single step even while his companions did. “This sits upon your head, Wisdom, because you sacrificed the old ways for gifts from these outlanders. Six thousand years of an unbroken line, and in a single day, all of it lost--”

“What did you see?”

“Something came out of the Pyramid, heading north--”

“WHAT DID YOU SEE?!”

Honor jumped back, either surprised by the sudden shrill tone of Wisdom’s voice or the desperate fear on his face, his eyes darting wildly as he reached to grab Honor’s foreleg.  

“It looked like a pony,” said Daring Do, stepping forward and causing Wisdom’s companions to recoil. “But taller. Wider, heavier I guess. Gray coat, black tail, and a metal mask down to the shoulders. It looked like...” Daring paused. “Like an animal face.”

Wisdom took a step back, and then, shaking, fell to the floor.

“Grandfather!” cried Curiosity, running to his side.  

He reached out to her, but rather than letting her help him up he just held her. A sniffling sound escaped him, and although she could not see it in the dim light, Daring realized that he was crying.  

“I had thought...I had thought after all this time, it would have lost potency. Grown irrelevant. Quiet. I should have known, I should have known...they cannot fade...they only sleep..."

“What was it?” demanded Honor.

“You don’t know?”

Honor turned his head sharply to Daring Do, glaring at her. “Only the Avatar of Wisdom needs to know. I only uphold tradition, as he ought to as well. Such is our purpose.”  

“Curiosity,” whispered Wisdom, softly. “Help me stand.”

Curiosity, herself tiny and weak, helped him rise. Daring Do moved to help as well, but Honor pushed her back.

When Wisdom had stood, he took a deep breath and looked up at them. In the eerie green light, his eyes looked ghostly and empty—and yet full of terrible resolve.  

“Then the time has come. We have become the Vanguard.”

Murmurs moved through the crowd. Murmurs and quiet weeping.  

Even Honor seemed both disturbed and surprised by this. “That—that has never—”

“You need to come with me.” He turned his ghostly eyes to Daring and Cretin. “All of you. For we are but the Vanguard of this war. In time, all of Equestria will be called to stand against the Dark Pharaohs if we do not succeed here and now.” He turned around and began walking quickly. “Hurry. Time grows short.”  




They proceeded into the depths beneath the towers, into the catacombs beneath where the great blocks to build the world above had been quarried. These empty and square tunnels showed no signs of abandonment, because there was nothing of worth left there to fade over time. They in fact rather looked like they made up the majority of habitation of the thestrals—or once had, more recently than their ancient city had collapsed around them.  

“We are wasting time,” said Honor, looking over his shoulder at the darkness behind him. “It engaged an accursed spell to teleport. We have no idea where it could be!”

“Teleportation spells don’t have a very long range,” said Daring Do. “Especially without a line of sight. It didn’t go far. And I think we all know it was going north.” She looked to Honor. He looked back at her, and though his stoicism she perceived a great deal of fear. “My sister is taking up a position at your oasis. She is going to try to stop it.”

"Can she?"

"I don't know. I think she can slow it down, though."

“Tell me, child,” asked Wisdom, still not turning around but keeping a brisk pace. “Which mask did this one wear?”

Daring inhaled sharply. He knew of the masks—even though their wearers had been sealed away for millennia.  

“It wore the mask of a sha.”  

Wisdom slowed, and nearly seemed on the verge of collapse. He turned his head slowly to Daring. “Then the creature you witnessed is named Seht, the King of the Red Desert, Lord of the Tempest. I am afraid there is very little hope for your sister, then.”  

“You don’t know her.”

“The very best she could do is indeed to slow him down, if she is willing to sacrifice her very life.”

Daring stiffened. “Like I said. You don’t know her.” 

“I know her kind well enough. Many have sought its power, but none could attain it. It existed long before those like her, the unicorns. It is our greatest fear that it will exist after them as well.”

“And what,” snapped Honor, “exactly is it?”

Wisdom stopped before a great door. One not exactly made out of stone. His two attendants, the others that served close to his capacity, pushed it open. Wisdom stepped through the threshold, but Honor paused.

“What’s wrong?” asked Daring.

“This place,” he said, slowly. “I have never been here.”

“The city is vast. Most of us, even I, have not set hoof in the majority of it. Not now, and not ever.”  

Curiosity, who had managed to follow them, stared wide-eyed and nearly dove through the gap. Daring understood the feeling. Although she was afraid for her sister and aware of the danger—at least partially—the sense of age and ancientness called to her. The thought of answers to such ancient mysteries beyond the door. And, as such, she followed Curiosity.  

They suddenly found themselves in a wide cave, one that might very well not have been the product of mining. Although it was large, columns had been cut into it, as well as highly angular archways. The effect was that of a grand, subterranean hall.  

Wisdom grabbed Cretin, his body now slathered with glowing fluid, and pulled him close to one of the walls. The dim green light revealed an enormous and exquisite fresco carved in a type of stone that most certainly was not native to the mountain.  

Daring stared at it. It was not in an art style she had never seen, not even in any book or in her father’s collection. She understood that it contained ponies, however.

It was an image of the pyramid. At its very top stood a ring of figures, each with a detailed mask in the forms of various animals. The one with the sha mask stood at their center. Below them at at distance, past a vast portion of blank space, stood figures of ponies with bat wings dressed in strange armor, raising spears toward the beings at the top of the pyramid. Behind them was a representation of a city, perhaps, or an intricately abstract representation of one. It too featured ponies, carved in many different positions and doing many different tasks. They appeared to be earth ponies, although they were striped like zebras from the shoulders up. 

“These,” said Wisdom, pointing at the masked figures. “These were what the Pyramid was intended to contain.”

“What are they?”

“The Dark Pharaohs. In the distant past, in our most ancient stories, in the time before the Sun and Moon, they ruled this land. Their power was unfathomable, and their reach limitless. They were unforgiving, brutal masters who enslaved this land and the ponies within it.” He pointed at the bat-winged figures. “But our ancestors rose up against them. Through great battles and unfathomable losses, they contained them within the Black Pyramid. Sealed, eternally.”

“Until you let them out,” hissed Honor. Whether he was addressing Daring Do or Wisdom was unclear.

“I had thought their power might have grown weak,” sighed Wisdom. “Or that, were they found, the unicorns could find a way to contain them. So that we might leave this wretched place.”

“Leave?” Honor stepped forward, shoving Cretin closer to the image. “LEAVE? For six thousand years, we have guarded the Pyramid to prevent their return! You would sacrifice that history, that heritage?”   

“A heritage that is destroying us,” said Wisdom, softly. He turned to Daring Do. “They are immortal creatures. Gods. Dark versions of the false-god you worship, Ra.”

Daring Do leaned in close to the carved image. Squinting, she put her hoof against the clear area of it, finding that the stone was not as smooth as the rest of the negative space.

“Why is this part scratched?”

“It has been cleaned,” snapped Honor, swatting her hoof away. “Obviously. This is a critical part of our culture, our very being. Stop touching it.”  

“The one that now walks the land is Seht.” Wisdom pointed at the image in the sha helmet. “He was their king, their master, the Possessor of the Eye.”

“What eye?”

“We do not know. That information is lost to us. But know this, young Pegasus, that he is the worst of them all. The strongest among them.” He looked to Honor. “This is why he heads north. To the Equestrian city where the ponies are strong. Then he will devour their life force to restore his strength.”

Curiosity gasped. “That’s what he did to Dignity!”

“Only partly. It will be much worse once he reaches a populated area.”

Daring Do frowned “But that doesn’t make any sense. He’s already regenerated. I saw him, he was just a skeleton when we found him and he came out of the Pyramid a whole pony—and he didn’t eat anyone’s life force to do it.”

“What you see is not his true form. It is a representation, a fraction of his true power, surely. Once he obtains the life energy he needs, he will fully manifest--and he will return to resurrect his brethren.”

“And then what?” squeaked Curiosity.

Wisdom stared at the carvings. “They will return, and the Dark Empire along with them.”

“Then we must act now.” Honor faced Wisdom. “Right now, there is still only one, and he is weak. If we can stop him from reaching the city, then we still have a chance.”

“Can you even do that?” asked Daring.  

Wisdom sighed. “It took all the strength of our ancient legions to defeat them last time, but...” He paused. “What you say may be true. According to the Tales, they draw their magic from the Pyramid, or something within the Pyramid. As he moves further from it, his power wanes.”  

“We need to get word to Equestria,” said Daring Do. “There isn’t a garrison at that town, but further north there’s a port--”

“There isn’t time,” snapped Honor.

“So, what? You want to fight it with ten half-starved thestrals with whips?”

“We will stand firm,” said Honor, “as our ancestors once did.”

“To accomplish what, exactly? If Wun can’t stop it, do you think you can?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re insane!”

“There is a way,” said Wisdom. He turned and started walking to the far end of the room. Daring followed.

At the far end stood an altar of some kind, carved from black stone and decorated with all manner of strange things, most of which were chipped and decayed, having been left far too long and forgotten. Behind it, though, was something that Daring Do immediately recognized.

She stopped. She could not read the writing inscribed into its surface, but had come to know the language—and most certainly recognized the material. She found herself facing a massive iron door, circular in shape, with a complex set of spells interwoven with mechanisms surrounding it, spreading outward the walls of what appeared to be a vast rectangular iron box.  

“What is that?” asked Daring, for some reason so very disturbed by its presence.

“I’d ask the same,” said Honor, for once agreeing with her.  

“This is our failsafe. For the time of the Vanguard, when we will be the first to fall against the Empire that Equestria must defeat. The mechanism by which we fulfill our purpose.” He began to unwind the bandages from his front hoof, and even in the dim light Daring Do could see the marks of two extensive scars running from his hoof to elbow.

“What—what is that?”

“Every Wisdom must open the lock once. It is my greatest shame that I must be the first to do so twice.” He sighed, and looked to Honor, tears in his eyes. “I am so sorry. You were right. I should have listened. I have doomed us all.”

“If we are doomed, let it be serving our purpose.”  

Wisdom shook his head but said nothing. He took flight toward the center of the great door, where there was a hole. He took a breath and put his hoof deep into it, engaging the mechanism inside.

He cried out as the machine engaged around him, its mechanical parts reacting to his presence with a mechanical clunk. He did his best to remain composed, even as the channels surrounding the central aperture began to fill with a luminescent red fluid. As it moved through them, the mechanisms began to activate in earnest, the runes aligning themselves around mechanical aspects as disk after disk began to revolve, their delicate innards pulling apart and activating further components.

The gate began to change, retracting somehow to within itself, the inner rings drawing outward and collapsing apart as the door seemed almost to dissolve. It released Wisdom, and he fell to the ground, holding his leg.

“Grandfather?” asked Curiosity, rushing to his side.

“It is done. Perhaps I will be the last to open this gate. I hope I am, but at once hope I am not.”  

He limped forward, into the darkness beyond. Daring Do did as well, her nostrils immediately assaulted by the scent of metal and something that made her eyes burn. Of air that had not escaped that place since Wisdom had been a colt barely Curiosity’s age.  

As Wisdom entered, deep red light suddenly appeared. Daring Do, her eyes not adjusted, jumped back, but the thestrals did not seem to notice. Their pupils simply narrowed to thin vertical slits.  

Daring do looked up, shielding her eyes with her hoof, to find that a number of crystal lamps embedded in the iron ceiling had been activated. They revealed an enormous room, its floor lined with metal tile and its walls with shelves. Shelves that contained seemingly hundreds of suits of strange black armor, held aloft on racks after rack after rack. Beside them sat weapons—weapons unlike any Daring had ever seen. They were things which did not have names in any pony language. Things that looked almost like griffon blunderbusses, but made of black and silver metal and housing peculiar luminescent crystals.  

Honor stared wide-eyed. “What...why?”

“These are the remnants of the weapons that our ancestors used to drive them back. Things that they cannot destroy, and armor that will shield our bodies from the sun and make us immune to their magic.”

Daring Do looked at the armor. It was black—and made of the same metal that the Pyramid was forged of—but clearly sized for a thestral, the wings included.   

“But that doesn’t make any sense...”   

“It does not need to. Curiosity!”

“Yes, Honor?”

“Find Persistence. Help him saddle the spiders. There is no time to waste!”

“I will get my plane!” said Cretin, suddenly having realized that he was actually present.  

“For all the good crashing it into the desert will do--”

It was too late, though. Cretin had managed to escape the room, along with Curiosity, leaving behind only a trail of glowing goo and a foul odor. Only Honor, Wisdom and Daring Do remained. Honor immediately approached one of the suits of armor and removed it from its place, preparing to don it.  

“How soldiers do you have?” asked Daring Do.

“Far less than there are suits of armor. But enough.”

“We can only hope,” sighed Wisdom. He faced Daring. “As we can hope that your sister can slow it. Or, at the very least, survive the encounter.”

Daring wished she could smile. “You don’t know her,” she said. “I don’t think you understand how far she’s willing to go.”

“A noble thing, I think.”

“No,” said Daring. “Not to save anypony. To claim what she believes she owns.”
> Chapter 12: Daughter of the Death Flower
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun sat far on the horizon, casting strange orange light through the silent dust storms overhead. Even at its oblique angle, the heat beat down upon the desert beyond the range of mountains and spires that surrounded the Pyramid. Little remained out there except the Red Desert, and the endless and treacherous sands.  

Parts of it, though, were dotted with the remnants of sunken, old things. Many faded square outlines could bee seen in the sand. One still functioned. In the center of the oasis, the last place for the thestrals to take their water, there stood a perfectly square lake filled with deep, pure water. The substance that formed its walls had grown porous, and water seeping into the desert had allowed for various plants to cling to life, forming their own society around the well. Several anemic palm trees and various sorts of shrubs and grasses stood among tall black stones. A small, verdant area in a land that had otherwise died long before any living pony had existed.  

It was at this location that Wun had taken her station. She stood in the shadow of a gently blowing palm tree, waiting, and not thinking about anything in particular at all. The task she was about to engage in was of the sort that did not require thought. Thought, in fact, invariably led to failure for the sake of its distraction. Thought meant hesitation.  

As she stared out across the desert, she saw a figure approaching her—and she smiled. The time had come.

The creature slowly approached, moving at a walking speed. Its shield still surrounded its body, the swirling red light casting deep shadows around the equine shape as it moved across the Red Desert. It was barely visible through the heat lines rising from the sand, but Wun felt it before her eyes truly saw it. It seemed to vibrate deeply within the marrow of her horn. It was not a pleasant sensation, nor was it a familiar one. Few creatures were left in the world that still possessed that level of raw power.  

Raw power, of course, was exactly that: raw, and consequently largely pointless. Wun’s horn ignited and magic swirled around her, cutting its way through the delicate grasses of the oasis. She cast the protection spells in a lotus configuration, spreading them outward in a way that was perfectly symmetrical but devoid of fractal features. Within them, she constructed her seals and protections, and designed her offensive spells. It was the nature of dueling, something that had been taught to her since the first month she had existed.  

The creature seemed to perceive this, but did not stop moving. Instead, its shield collapsed and a rune of its own assembled in the sand around it. It was a horrid angular thing, devoid of clear symmetry. Most disturbingly, though, it was apparently mobile.  

“Do you understand my language?” asked Wun. She repeated it in something more ancient, although the creature seemed to react to neither mode of speech. “As a superior being, I am obligated to offer you a chance to surrender. I do not like violence. That is the purview of lesser, hornless beings." She paused. "Especially violence against something as valuable as you are. I would hate to damage you.”  

The creature did not stop. Instead, crimson magic arced around it, not defined by any particular spell but a pure discharge. Wun smiled. That spell had revealed and confirmed her advantage. In her mind, victory had already been decided.  

The violent surge of uncontrolled magic was directed at Wun. Wun shifted her weight, drawing a piece of her shield spell and redirecting the incoming surge outward, deflecting it into a stone column that promptly vaporized from the blast. She turned, spinning gracefully and casting her own spell, manifesting as a trio of bright green orbs.  

Then, in what seemed to be an instant, the creature was inches from her, and Wun only barely managed to dodge a hoof directed at her throat. She did not think and did not hesitate. In a single, elegant motion, she had wrapped her own front leg around the creature’s front, twisting it and throwing it off balance. A swift blow to the gut caused it to stumble. It struck at her, but she twisted and landed another blow to where one of its kidneys was most likely located. As she came behind it, she swept one of the rear legs and threw it to the ground. The force was substantial, and the creature landed hard against the rocky ground.  

“You have fought unicorns before,” mused Wun, resuming her stance and composure. “Of the Western sort I surmice. Their duelists usually stand still, do they not?” She smiled as the creature stood. “Earth ponies developed ways, you see. To defeat my kind.”

She twisted in the air, leaping into a kick and landing it against the creature’s front leg, where the elbow joint was the weakest. Except that although the blow landed, it was like kicking concrete. The flesh did not give, not even slightly. Something had changed.

Which meant nothing. Wun smiled, and the three spheres she had projected ignited, firing their beams directly at the creature. It erupted in a plume of green light.

Wun fell backward, flipping out of its grasp and engaging a detection spell. She had anticipated that it would try to be mobile, but she had underestimated its speed. For something so large, it was fast—and there were spells afoot that she did not fully understand. Although she did not have the mental capacity to analyze the theoretical basis for its spells, she could at least know where it was.  

It had not moved. As the vapor from Wun’s spells dissipated, she saw that it had cast part of its shield, a solid, transparent piece of red light. It had fully absorbed the impact and seemed to have received no damage or feedback.  

It was only because of her years training with earth pony monks that Wun was able to dodge as the sand around her suddenly liquefied, forming into lethal spikes that penetrated through her shield spell, ignoring it completely and coming up from below. Wun dodged them, leaping into the air and severing several with a cutting spell before she landed. Her hooves met grass. She engaged a secondary part of her lower rune, detonating one petal of her lotus. The feedback ripped through her mind, but the explosion landed on target, detonating below the creature.

Then, without even a pause, two arcs of pure, unrefined red magic erupted from its position. Wun twirled, casting a shield system around herself. She deflected the beams, but they arced around her, doubling in strength before returning, only to be deflected again and repeat the process, doubling in strength with every rebound.  

Her spell was complex and efficient, and she withstood the impact better than a lesser unicorn might have—but her magic could not withstand the prolonged onslaught. As the dust from her own spell cleared, she saw the creature standing impassive, its red mechanical eyes staring at her.

Wun smiled at it, even as her shield spells were beginning to deplete.

“Who was it, I wonder? Who you met before? A classical unicorn, one of the Westerners? With their mathematics and calculations? Is that why you do not understand?”

The creature did not respond. Wun doubted it could talk.

“I am not them. I am from the East. My cutie mark is a flower, and that is for a reason.”

Wun took a breath and engaged her spell. Immediately, the ground illuminated with the image of her mark, a tacca bloom ,its outlines and tendrils spreading and expanding as it unfurled across the ground, burning through the entirety of the oasis. Her shield spells suddenly began to expand rather than retracting.

Wun began to laugh as power flowed through her—at the expense of all life her magic touched. The grass began to curl and wilt, changing from green to diseased, spotted brown. The palms tilted, then lost their fronds before their trunks rotted away and fell apart, collapsing to dust. The pure, clear water of the oasis changed as well, darkening and bubbling as all life was taken from it and it was left tainted and depleted, toxic to all life that might ever sip from it.

“We have an inerrant connection to the land,” said Wun, her internal wellspring of magical energy overflowing with the life force she had drained. Life force that rightfully belonged to her, the pony who had dared to claim it. “To plants, to living things. By right we have permission to take what truly belongs to us. To take ownership of what is MINE.”  

She summoned her full strength, simultaneously destroying every ounce of life the oasis contained and pulling it into herself. As it ought to be—as it all belonged to HER, by the very definition of her being. As did all things.  

Wun’s shields ignited with internal force, and the red light rebounding from them shattered, vaporized by her sudden surge in magic. With her entire body radiating with life, Wun cast a new system, surrounding herself with numerous white-hot cutting spells, all of them orbiting her in the form of a great flower.  

Her mind cleared and, with only a moment to take a single breath, she sent her force outward and forward. To take what was rightfully hers.

The creature dodged. It was indeed fast, but Wun was faster and controlled more spells. She directed them to change position, and as the creature charged her she used the rest to defend herself, the whirling of her magic slicing through the air.

The creature cast its own spells as it moved, deflecting the blades as they came near but not having the formulations necessary to truly dispel them. When it cast a shield, Wun would simply direct her force on the opposite side with a different unit of her cutting spell.  

The creature charged, deflecting several of her spells with surprising force using its own magic. Wun stood firmly, as if she were one of the Western unicorns, only to tilt and flow over its’s back as it pushed past her. As she performed the graceful motion of her dance, a secondary spell activated, blasting the monstrosity with enough force to level an entire battalion of earth ponies. The creature activated a shield, but the dome cracked and splintered under the force and it was knocked back.  

It landed on its hooves, off-balance but quickly charging a rebounding spell. In that single instant, Wun saw her chance. A single opening, and a chance to end the fight. It was an unfortunate thing, she supposed, but hesitation was not in her nature. She supposed taxidermy would have to suffice.  

She redirected all of her spells, pulling them back into herself. The energy flowed through her like water, the force of life itself, a source of energy meant for limitless exploitation. As quickly as it entered her, Wun was able to redirect it, assembling the force into a single blade.

And with it, she thrust. The creature did not have a chance to dodge or cast a shield. Instead, all of Wun’s force was directed at its unprotected chest.

The creature was thrown back as the magical blade pushed through its flesh—or what Wun took to be flesh. It did not feel like it.

It stepped back, its mechanical eyes looking down that the luminescent construct of green-tinged white magic now shoved through its chest and emerging from its back, just to the left of its iron spine. Wun watched, expecting it to fall dramatically. Except it took too long. Too much time passed, and the creature did not fall.

Instead, the base of her blade construct began to spark with red light, red slowly spreading through the green and blackness replacing its white glow. Wun winced, keeping the blade-spell on target—but the force applied to it was too strong.

The creature tore it out. The resulting wound released several drops of a thick black fluid, like ink or molten bitumen, and then its surface began to knit. In seconds, the wound sealed and vanished. Wun stared aghast, not understanding.

Then its magic tightened. Wun cried out from the feedback surge as her spell snapped and shattered in its grasp. She fell to her knees in the sand, reeling from having the entirety of her contained magic severed in an instant. She had linked too much of herself to the spell, expecting a conclusion. She had stretched herself too far.

The shattered fragments of her magic, corrupted and broken, flowed back toward the creature, toward its head. Wun heard it take a single ragged breath. She realized it was the first she had heard it take.  

The sand around the creature ignited, and its body erupted in red light. It lifted itself, tearing its sealing spells free with it. Then, as Wun watched, the spells were reconfigured, rising from a two-dimensional figure to a three-dimensional one. New runes and constructions appeared on its surface, and the ghastly asymmetry of it was enhanced and expanded until the very depths of Wun’s mind could almost perceive some manner of logical, mathematically described origin to it. An origin that was vastly beyond her and unfathomably depraved.	

Then the surface collapsed, forming a rotating cube around the creature. A cube inscribed with forms and letters similar to those in the Iron Pyramid—and others reminiscent of the strange things Wun had only witnessed in ancient, forgotten tomes.  

The spell-cube shifted, casting another over it, and the two began to move inside each other, seeking mathmatical alignment. It only took a fraction of a second, but Wun felt as though hours were passing. She had begun to reevaluate her position. She had been confident before, when her nature as a pureblood unicorn had left her a supreme advantage. She now understood that her advantage had never existed in the first place. She had been given the option to surrender—and she had refused it. 

The cubes suddenly aligned, and the symbols reconfigured. Hundreds, or even thousands, of single bolts of magic erupted from its surface, arcing through the air toward Wun. She watched in awe, for the first time in her life unsure what to do. Never before had she witnessed so much beauty, or been so proud of one of her possessions.  

Her body moved before her mind did. She dodged, running swiftly out of the way of the strike. The first of the barrage struck, each spell detonating with the force of a small bomb, sending sand and fragments of dead vegetation flying in every direction. Some of them struck the ground, like a random barrage, but others did not. They changed course, pursuing their target.  

Wun ducked and dodged, her svelte body winding through the bursts of magic as quickly as she could—until she could not. The barrage was not random. It had been meant to contain her, directing her toward a point from which she could not escape. 

She shifted, turning herself as she leapt, casting a shield sphere around herself. As anticipated, several of the projectiles came from below, aiming for her soft underbelly. Wun felt them strike the shield, and felt as on contact they simply disassembled the construction of her spell, their own nature reacting and adapting in real time. She also understood that their nature was inherrantly deceptive. They were not projectiles, but threads.  

They reached her body, ingraining into her—and suddenly, there was pain. Every nerve in her body seemed to fire at once, resulting in horrific agony. A lesser pony would surely have passed out quickly, but Wun had grown accustomed to spells not unlike this one. That, too, had been part of her training, cast by her father until she learned to cast them on herself. To ensure her superiority over all other ponies and to prepare her for her responsibilities as a pureblood scion.

She cast her magic back onto herself, severing some of the attachments and barely managing to parry another exploding projectile—only to be suddenly yanked toward the creature by its connection to her. She could see that it was no longer floating; rather, it had projected a construct below its hooves to support itself. It was standing still, and did not seemed especially amused. As if this was all a terribly mundane task.  

Wun could not help but wonder if it was all a ploy.  

She cast a shield spell, and it was once again disassembled, although slowly enough that she could retreat through its ashes. She had fully lost her advantage. She was not mage. Her cutie mark had been obtained by her first venture, a project to develop new import routes of rare flowers to Equestria. Her dueling practice had been ceremonial, a remnant passed down from more violent times. What she was fighting now, though, was something entirely different. Something that had not learned magic out of obligation, but had been born for the express purpose of controlling it. A creature born to a violent age—or perhaps one born long before it.   

Wun jumped backward, trying to put space between herself and the creature—only to have the sand around her suddenly leap through the burnt and blackened grass, grasping her legs and reaching for her horn. With a cry, she cast a cutting spell, wildly striking at the tendrils and claws, driving them back only for them to form again from the dust.

It was only by luck that she looked up in time to realize she had been tricked. The sand had moved to direct her into a path backed by a vast black stone, sealing off every route of escape. And now the creature was moving, charging toward her at impossible speed. It pulled its hoof back, and Wun saw the luminescent marks of the spell through its thin gray coat, lining every muscle and joint. The reason she had not been able to strike it twice.  

The creature struck, its hoof slamming against stone, its iron bones transferring the force of its magically enhanced strength into the rock with deadly accuracy, shattering the entirety of it in a single impact. Despite the blow, though, it did not strike Wun’s flesh; instead, its hoof passed harmlessly through a plume of mossy-green mist.  

The mist drifted around the creature, swirling through the empty remnants of what had once been a beautiful oasis. Then it reformed, returning Wun to her normal form. With a cry of pain, she immediately dropped to her knees, retching out copious quantities of a silvery opaque substance that looked curiously similar to mercury.  

It had been her last resort, but no mortal had ever been able to perform the spell adequately. She had managed to pull her body back from the brink of disincorporation, but her organs had materialized in the wrong places. She was sure that the internal damage was horrific.  

The creature’s head slowly turned, its eyes focusing on her. It stared for a moment, as if expecting something from her. Perhaps to bow, or to surrender.  

“I cannot,” she said, wiping her mouth. “You cannot understand me, but I cannot. What would my sister think of me?”

The creature did not understand, but started walking toward her, casting a simple cutting spell. A spell identical to Wun’s, but exponentially greater in strength and organization. As if to insult her.  

The spell dissipated, though, as it suddenly cast a shield spell. Wun saw it move before she heard the sound of the explosion, and saw the creature slide back on its hooves across the sand as it caught a solid ball of iron in its magic, absorbing the force of a cannon shot.  

She looked up and saw her skiff cresting the rocky dunes, its rudder point deep in the sand and its structure held aloft by what seemed like hundreds of griffons lashed to the deck.  

“Avast, you fat COCKS!” screamed the one griffon not tied to the ship and out of breath. “That means pull harder! HARDER, what am I paying you for, you penguins? You EMUS! The next round'll surely stove her in! You, horse, swab faster! Swab like the WIND!”  

In the front of the ship, Caballeron, sweating and terrified, was attempting to swab and reload the forward gun.

“Not like that!” screamed Gruff. “You’ll blow your fingers clean off!”

“I’m a pony! I do not have fingers!”

“Then what are you even doing!? Get out of my way!”

Gruff shoved him out of the way and nearly overboard, loading the cannon himself. Two griffons on the axial cranks redirected it, and Gruff took the seat, pressing his blind eye against the crosshairs, even as red magic surrounded the cannon and twisted it closed as if it were made of wet paper.  

He fired, and the entirety of it exploded, taking out the front of the skiff. Griffons squawked as they were pulled down.  

Wun groaned. It was not the rescue she was expecting.

The creature seemed to largely ignore the griffons, instead flattening the cannonball to a thin sheet of iron foil, and then twisting it into a red-hot spike. A spike that Wun supposed was meant to give her the poke.  

It took another step before suddenly being knocked back by a profound blast of red light. The surge pierced its shoulder, leaving only a dark hole that quickly began to regenerate. Wun stared, dumbfounded, sure that what she had seen was some kind of magic—but not understanding how.  

Through the dust behind the falling skiff, their distraction, the forces of the thestrals suddenly appeared. Some flew in the air, clad in strange black armor, but others rode on camel spiders twice the size of a pony, two riders to a mount. The rear riders seemed to be the ones armed with whatever kind of device had produced the laser.  

The creature seemed to recognize this, and it once again cast a spell. The sand below it suddenly shifted, raising a platform. From this sprung a set of massive, tube-like legs, their surfaces flexing as the grains of sand were bound into stone and into a great machine. Then, with impossible speed and the creature sitting atop its creation, the device made of sand and magic began to sprint across the desert, escaping at impossible speed.  

Wun felt a familiar presence land beside her.

“Wun! Are you--”

“I am fine,” snapped Wun. She stood up, shaking badly, and Daring Do stabilized her. “We cannot allow it to escape!”

“But it’s too fast! The spiders are quick, but they don’t go--”

“No, they will not. But you can.”

Daring Do gasped, realizing that Wun was right. She felt an armor-plated hoof on her shoulder.  

“I will attend as well,” said Honor, spreading his armor-clad wings. “I am our strongest flier, but we must hurry!”

“But you’re hurt! Wun--”

“I will find a way to catch up. It cannot reach the city. Go!”

Daring looked into her sister’s eyes. She had never seen Wun so excited. It terrified her.

“She is not wrong,” said Honor. “Depart or stay.”

He took to the air, and Daring spread her wings, taking flight and attaining altitude quickly. She looked back at her sister. Something still did not feel right, but she supposed she would find out what exactly was wrong soon enough.
> Chapter 13: The Dark One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daring Do was no Wonderbolt. She, in fact, rather disliked them; she had always gotten the impression that their showiness was a result of arrogance, overconfidence, or even conceit, which stood in stark contrast to her own preference for privacy and independent endeavors. Like all things in her life, flight had been taught to her by tutors. She supposed they had been selected in an attempt to teach her to demonstrate her own superiority, as was the case for all members of the Perr-Synt family, but she had never shown much talent for it. She only bothered to study it because it was the one thing her sister could not do better.  

Still, she was fast, young, and well-trained—and as she flew, she was able to fully understand the extent of what her father had given her.  

While she flew forward, breathing rhythmically as her fluffy wings beat through the stormy air, Honor struggled to keep pace. Daring Do, while not an especially fast Pegasus, had grown up with an excellent diet and the best of all possible medical care, rendering her unknowingly almost perfect in terms of biological condition. It was not something she had ever noticed or perceived; to her, it was normal. In fact, she had always considered herself sub-par in the face of the racial superiority of her father and sister.  

Honor, though, had spent his life in the eternal shadow of famine, and what food he had was vastly inadequate for a thestral. No doctors remained in his culture, and any knowledge of medicine they had once possessed had been lost—if it had even existed in the first place. No doubt he carried with him a great many parasites, and the remains of conditions that he had accumulated in his youth but never been given the opportunity to heal.

Even with his body protected from the burning sunlight, and even though his armor was exceptionally light, he was breathing hard and wheezing severely, struggling to keep up with Daring Do as they moved across the desert. 

So while Daring Do was kept aloft by her feathery wings, hollow bones, and distinctly avioid lungs, Honor was kept moving by pride alone—and that was not enough.  

He began to fall back, unable to keep up. Daring Do looked down at him, and she saw behind him the waves running through the red sands, with the enormous bodies of the tatzlwurms occasionally breaching the surface like serpentine wales. They were following the two fliers, waiting for them to land--or fall.  

She looked into the distance and, ahead of them, saw the assembly of sand propelled by magic that carried Seht toward the populated town to the north. A machine of hose-like legs sprinting at ridiculous speed across the desert, the storms and wurms fleeing his path as he moved ever more rapidly.  

“I can see it!” cried Daring Do. “Come on, Honor! It’s not far, we can do it!”

Honor groaned, falling back. “I can’t,” he said.  

“You have to! I can’t do this alone!”  

“I won’t make it!” his wings faltered, and he reached for the sword on his back. “You understand what is at stake, and you know what must be done—but you will have to do it without me!”

He unsheathed the sword and threw it. Daring reached out and caught by the loop in the hilt, realizing immediately that it was remarkably heavy. Far heavier than a normal sword, and far heavier than any pony weapon ought to be. She was immediately astounded that Honor, in his inherently weakened state, had managed to last so long carrying it—and that Dignity bore an even heavier one.  

Daring took the blade and nodded. Honor did so too, and then fell back, dropping his speed into a glide to prevent him from falling to the deadly sands below.  

Daring accelerated, pushing herself into a final sprint, her spry and fluffy wings beating relentlessly as she tore through the stormless wake behind Seht. She managed to gain on his position, drawing nearer until the full extent of the assembly it drove was visible. The enormous serpentine legs spread out before her, moving in a way reminiscent of now living creature, all surrounding a flat platform or plinth, like a sandstone altar.  

Daring descended, feeling her feet touch down on the sand platform. The effect was immediately disorienting; although the motion of the limbs of the platform were spastic and wild, the surface itself was perfectly level, without even the slightest hint of vibration or motion aside from a warm breeze and the motion of the seemingly endless horizon shifting past.  

Seht was lying at the front of the platform, staring forward, his limbs neatly folded below him. As Daring landed, his articulated mask turned, and a mechanical eye focused on Daring Do. Upon seeing her, he slowly rose to his feet.  

Daring Do clasped Honor’s sword. She had no idea how to use it, and it was ridiculously heavy—not to mention that by  somepony surely would be getting the poke, the very idea of which turned her stomach. 

A halo of red light appeared around Seht’s head, and a bolt of magic erupted from his mask, arcing through the air toward Daring Do. She dodged, rolling across the platform as it struck only sand, melting it to charred glass.  

Daring rolled, already out of breath from the flight, and stood, holding the sword awkwardly. “Stop!” she said. “We can talk about this!”

Seht said nothing. His mask charged again.

Daring took a breath and did what she assumed she had to. She charged, relying on a sudden burst of Pegasus speed to take her opponent by surprise. It was an absurd motion, an attempt made by a pony who had no idea how to use a sword or how badly she had left herself open to attack—but Seht did nothing. He did not even dodge.

Daring swung the blade, bringing it down against the armor of Seht’s neck, fully expecting the runeblade to do something terrible. Instead, however, it simply tapped against the metal of the mask, not damaging it in the slightest.

Daring pulled back on the hilt of the blade, intending to go for a different attack, perhaps to thrust through some part that was not, in fact, covered in metal. Except that the blade did not move.

The metal of the mask shifted. It changed, moving and unfurling as it formed a sheath around the blade. A new scabbard, forged from dark iron and red light. Daring suddenly cried out in pain as the loop of the sword ignited, and she recoiled from the burning heat, only to watch the crudely made thestral hilt bubble and hiss as it melted away, yielding the entirely different grip it had been formed around long ago. A beautiful grip forged from a strange striped stone—a grip with no loop, meant to be held in a unicorn’s magic.  

The new scabbard of the sword shifted, placing it firmly at Seht’s side. As it moved, Daring Do, now close enough to touch the hulking beast, realized that two sets of eyes were staring back at her. One was set in the mask, a pair of red jewels and mechanical components, but a second pair of red eyes were watching her from a thin slit below the chin of the metal sha figure. To Daring Do’s greatest surprise, she realized that the helmet was not a mask worn by a long-necked creature but a headdress worn by a figure with distinctly pony-like proportions.  

A burst of magic suddenly sent her flying back and sprawling across the platform, almost to its edge. Daring only grasped at it at the last moment, her rear legs suddenly kicking at air. There was a moment of fear until she recalled that she could fly, but the moment of confusion had given Seht a chance to approach her in a vulnerable state.  

She looked up and realized that not only was its body equine in shape, but it had a cutie mark: the shape of a stylized eye contained within a black triangle.  

Magic suddenly twisted around Daring Do’s limbs, clamping down like a vice. She found herself utterly unable to move as she was slowly lifted until she was eye-level with Seht. The eyes of the mask looked down at her, giving him a distinct sense of grandeur and size, but the lower eyes, his real ones, were the ones Daring found herself staring into.

Light ignited from behind the mask, and threads reached out of it and into Daring Do’s head. She was sure she screamed as information suddenly flowed into her mind, penetrating it with prodigious efficiency. There was no shape to it, no structure, only pure chaos. A blinding white light interspersed with unfathomable colors combined with an unrelenting screech of raw noise, marked by screams of what seemed like thousands of languages speaking at once.

Time lost meaning. The voices spoke both forward and backward across themselves, thoughts connecting to things that had already happened and things yet to happen, sentences that started and ended within each other and in every possible form. Daring Do’s own mind was subsumed by the tempest, unable to withstand the onslaught.

Just as her brain began to overheat, an instinct struck her, and a million miles away, she took a breath.  

Her mind focused on a single thought, and on a single symbol. Although her Pegasus form meant it bore no power in the real world, such things did not matter in her mind. Rune magic could be wielded by any race if they only knew how, and Daring Do drew her family’s crest to the front of her mind.  

Instantly the waves of uncontrolled chaos began to recede, driven back in the face of the ancient seal, the one that marked the minds of each of the Perr-Synts since the dawn of their Line in the distant and unrecorded past. The one that she, too, possessed.

Focusing all her strength on the mental image of the symbol, Daring Do expected to repel the attack—but quickly realized that it was not an attack at all. As she focused her mind, the control of the ancient spell rendered the thousands of languages into a single one, and the blast of white light into form with meaning.	

Words flashed past Daring Do’s mind. Things she did not understand and could only tangentially perceive. A world shrouded in darkness, dominated by a great pyramid, above it a glow of red, a great sphere of terrible light powered by iron drawn from the recombination of imperceptible gasses within a shell of impossible magic, shrouding the world below in its glow. Of a verdant world, not of green but no less alive, of trees and shrubs and rivers carved in the shadow of the light, expanding endlessly below an alien sky—and of a strange land, a distant world, a vague image of rocky crags and half-forgotten recollections of happiness.

And, in its contrast, unbearable sadness. Panic. The images became frantic. Daring Do gained perceptions of things beyond her comprehension. Of ponies. Of their bodies divided, separated into individual components, smaller and smaller, until the birth of one single fact, of each pony each one containing two lines of matter, separated and re-linked into strange helixes, desperately trying to reconfigure its very nature. Indivisible particles bound by magic and reconfigured, drawn into new and strange forms as the world became illuminated by light.  Of words within them, pleading to be freed, of the voice in her head speaking a language that she could not decode.  

All of it rushing by, of the Pyramid, of the world, of the nature of things—and then all of it resolving to a single vision, of something too horrible for Daring Do to perceive, something she could not comprehend and only survived because of the seal in her brain. An eye that perceived her, and that no mortal creature could ever hope to perceive.  

“Overheating. This one is overheating. They are all so very fragile.”  

Daring Do felt sight return to her eyes, and the cold of the desert passing by. Her entire body was twitching, and she could feel bubbles of spittle running down from her mouth. She tried to struggle, but found she could barely move; she was utterly drained.  

Seht, still holding Daring Do, proceeded to the end of the platform, holding her over the edge. Then, without a word, Daring Do felt herself released and falling.   



Spiraling downward, Daring felt her wings move, although feebly. She could not assume flight. She was too tired, and her mind was fading. She supposed it would not hurt very much when she hit the ground. She tried not to think of the wurms.  

Then she felt herself plucked from her descent by familiar magic, pulled through the air and into a firm grasp. Barely conscious, she felt herself sat against something warm, firm, but covered with supremely soft black fuzz.  

“Huh?”

Daring opened her eyes and realized to her horror that she was still moving—but not down. Rather, she was racing across the surface of the desert at incredible speed. It had not been apparent how fast she was moving when she was flying, or even from the high platform that now sat in front of her. Being only feet from the ground, though, she fully perceived the reckless pace that she was now crossing the sands.  

Her mind began to focus, and she realized that she was sitting on the back of an enormous beast. A beast with a canine form, but a long, thin nose.  

“Onward!” cried Wun. “Onward, my fuzzy friends!”

Daring looked behind her, realizing that she was sitting against her sister—and that Caballeron was clinging to her back, weeping from terror at the speed around him. All three of them were sat on the back of a sha.

They were not alone. The entire herd of them seemed to be following the one that Wun sat upon. None bore riders, but all traveled at immense speed, their pumping legs barely visible as their forward momentum tore sand free of the desert and it trailed behind them in a growing tempest.  

“What are you doing?!” cried Daring, grasping her sister to keep from falling.

“We must ride the Desert Winds! Did I not say I would catch up? Do hold onto something, this one despises you!”  

Wun shook the reins of the creature and it accelerated, pushing forward and overtaking Seht’s vehicle. The sha were faster by far.

“A single touch!” cried Caballeron. “A single touch is all it takes, and I’m atop it--”

“Stop whining, only the front part is venomous!” snapped Wun. “I am a nature pony, animals love me!”  

“Only the bad ones!” cried Daring.

“Which is not relevant currently! Onward, sha! ONWARD!”  

They passed Seht, racing forward across the desert, the tatzlwurms fleeing from the path from the most feared creatures in all the desert. Daring looked back, past her smiling sister, and in the distance saw the top of the platform Seht now stood atop. He was staring out at her, watching.
> Chapter 14: A Poorly Constructed Plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Daring reached the edge of town, it was already late afternoon. Her mind had been fuzzy and groggy, but the time riding on the back of a sha—and the sheer fear of it—had restored her back to full energy.  

Wun parked her mount in an area of desert near a couple of trees, near several large termite mounds. The other sha joined the first, and as Wun slid off its back it and the others began pawing lightly at the mounds. Then, as the termites swarmed out, their thin tongues began flicking against the mounds as they ate.

“They’re...they’re just anteaters?” said Daring, surprised.  

“What did you think they were?” asked Wun, stretching and trotting toward the Get Out Inn, which was not far from where the termites dwelt.  

Caballeron, shaking, fell to his knees. Wun partially levitated him, dragging him across the sand.

“Why me?!” he cried.  

“Because I could not catch a griffon.”

Daring took flight, following her sister and Caballeron. Caballeron managed to extricate himself from Wun’s magic and walked under his own power.  

“Are you okay?” she asked, catching up to him.

“I just spent five hours on the back of a horrid creature that is the very definition of bad luck, clinging to HER! No, I am not ‘okay’!”

“I mean from what it did to you--”

Caballeron shivered. “I would rather not talk about that.”

“But...what did you see?”

Caballeron looked up at Daring, confused. “See?”

“When it connected to your mind. That was telepathy. What did you see?”

“I did not ‘see’ anything. Just noise and pain. Then that bald griffon screaming at me to ‘get on the skiff and stove her in!’”

“I saw...” Daring shivered, but did not finish her sentence, because she did not know how to. She saw the images in her mind, the shadows of a strange world presented in such detail that she might well have thought she had been there herself—except that it was so alien that she could not comprehend the barest function of any of it. Of the red sun, suspended so close to the ground, and the vast Pyramid below it. Of lands that, for some reason, she so desperately wished she could see again.  

“Wun, did it do it to you?”

“No,” said Wun. “I do not know why, nor do I care.” She looked over her shoulder. “However. Daring, I used the mist spell.”

Daring gasped. “Wun, you can’t! We have to get you to a hospital, before--”

“We can perform the surgeries later. I am still relatively functional. Now, though, we require great quickness.”

Having reached the Inn, Wun kicked in the door and immediately dodged a crosbow bolt that whizzed passed her and nearly perforated Caballeron. With a flash of her horn, Wun bubbled the inkeeper, suspending her in a magical sphere. The inkeeper did not seem to like this at all, and yelled extensively—although no sound escaped the bubble.   

“Stop yelling, your oxygen is finite,” snapped Wun, rolling her out of the way and taking a key from behind her. She proceeded up the stairs with Daring following, making her way to Daring’s room where her luggage had been brought.

Upon entering, she immediately searched through the packages and selected a steel attache case.

Daring followed her, as did Caballeron.

“And what, pray tell,” he asked, “are we doing here, in this disgusting motel?”   

“We can perform the three-way snuggling you are suggesting later,” said Wun, unlocking the case. “Now is the time for action of a different manner.”

“What’s the plan?” asked Daring.

Wun looked up as she opened the case. “I was intending to ask you that.”

Daring sighed. She had expected a question like that. “Okay. His name is Seht. Wisdom says that he drains life force, but I don’t think that’s true. But he’s coming here anyway. I have no idea why.”

“It almost ended me,” snapped Caballeron. "My precious mediphorical juices where cleanly excised from my mortal form! Not since the jungle with those horrid chupacabra--"

“And you’re still here, aren’t you? I don’t think he was being aggressive, I think he was trying to communicate. Our brains just can’t handle it.” She faced Wun, who was now assembling various metallic parts from the case. “I used the Seal, and I...I saw things.”

“It did not make such an attempt with me,” said Wun.  

“Also...” Daring paused. “I think it’s a unicorn.”

Wun stopped what she was doing and looked up. “I do not think such a thing. I am entirely sure of it. Not only a unicorn, but a pureblood mage.”

“That is absurd and impossible,” muttered Caballeron. “It was buried down there since before any known House even existed, how could it possibly--”

Daring turned slowly to him. “I think it might be a dark unicorn.”

Caballeron fell silent. “That...is not possible.”

“The Magical Quadrangle always has a space for the metaphysical unicorn. Almost everyone figured it was a representation of something that never existed, a mythical form—but what if it’s meant to be a trinity? Three lineages? Some academics--”

“Insane academics, you mean. Pariahs with no true credentials that could have any bearing on winning grants--”

“And you think they were right.”

Caballeron averted his eyes, and then sighed. “There are some very, very ancient texts. In Crystalline. That reference the possibility of such things. But there is no hard evidence--”

“I have seen enough evidence,” said Wun, lifting a long metal tube from the case and screwing it onto the end of the assembly she had constructed. “Legends suggest they had remarkable regenerative abilities. And that is something this one most certainly does.”

“I didn’t see if it...” Daring’s eyes widened. “Wun, you brought the thing? Why in the name of Celestia’s rainbow-colored curly—why would you bring the THING?!”

“For occasions like this. You are new to this sort of thing. Precautions are always warranted.”

Caballeron looked at the metal object that Wun was holding, grimacing out of both instinct and confusion. He had no context to understand what it actually was.

“I do not understand,” he said. “Is it...a blunderbuss?”

Wun pulled back the bolt and chambered a round almost as large as Daring Do’s hoof. “No. A blunderbuss is a griffon attempt to replicate superior unicorn technology.”

“It’s a rifle,” snapped Daring Do, “and it’s illegal on every continent. Why do you even still have that?”

“Because you cannot hunt dragons with a blunderbuss.”  

“Dragons are not real,” said Caballeron.

“I assure you, they are,” said Wun, opening a second box. “They are real and quite delicious. Especially the eggs. Although the mothers are...protective. Hence the thanatanium cores in the projectiles.” She removed a set of clothing from the box. A suit of armor forged from dragon scales. Oddly small ones.  

“Wun, you can’t do this--”

“Daring.” Wun turned to face her. “I can, and I shall. Do you not understand the meaning of this being, what it represents? It is the very last of its kind, the final member of a subspecies rendered extinct before recorded history.”

Daring’s eyes widened. “You still intend to capture it.”

“Yes. I do. To contain it. To display it, to posses it. To mate with it.” 

Caballeron nearly retched. “You—surely you are joking--”

Wun’s head snapped to face him. “No. It is a pureblood, as am I, and one of vast and incredibly superiority over any known House. This may be my only chance to bear a legitimate child and continue my line, and even for my line to superceed all others.” She faced Daring. “Sister. You know me better than any living pony, even my own father. You understand what this means to me.”

“I hate to admit it...but he’s not wrong…”

“And why do you hate to admit that?” snapped Caballeron. “Of course I am right!”

“My motives are entirely selfish,” admitted Wun, “because selflessness and empathy are rank weakness. But the outcome still serves your goals as well. I do not know what damage it might do if it reaches this town. I cannot assess its intent, but you seem to think it is of ill nature.”

“I do.”

“Then help me protect these people, and obtain what I desire at once.”  

Daring winced, and then sighed. “Wisdom said that he gets his power from the Pyramid. I don’t know what that means, but…I almost do. I think we can weaken him.”

Wun nodded. She lifted one of her spare magazines, revealing that the bullets of the rounds within were certainly not made of lead or thanatanium. Daring paled upon seeing them.

“That...you actually brought THAT--”

“I have two eighty-nines, and a thirty-seven. The thirty seven will not work on a unicorn that powerful, but the others--”

“Wun, your organs--”

“I will only use them if need be. The thestrals?”

“The might get here in time, they might not.”

“I ordered my griffons to stay. They cannot get here in time.”

“That means it might just be us.”

“Possibly. What do you think we should do?”

Daring took a breath, not expecting her sister to ask that. Normally these questions were meant to be a test of sorts but now she had the increasing impressinon that, somehow, she had come to be in charge. Fear crept up her spine. Although Wun exuded confidence, she was at heart a flower-pony. She too was vastly out of her depth.  

“First, we need to evacuate the town. Keeping the ponies safe has to be the top priority.”

“Then I leave that to you.” Wun put her rifle over her shoulder and slid on her armor. “I will take my position. But ponies in this place hate you, and us.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

“Then I shall trust in you.”

Daring nodded, and Wun departed out the room’s window, heading as quickly as she could toward the town.  

Daring took a breath, and started toward the door—only to be stopped by a hoof on her shoulder.

She looked back, her eyes meeting Caballeron’s. His eyes were filled with fear—and so very cold.

“There is another way,” he said, slowly.

“What do you mean ‘another way?’”

Caballeron nodded. “The shipyard. I know how to pilot a dirigible.  I calculated its speed, roughly. Some of the smaller craft are fast. We could get to one before it even arrives--”

“And what, run? Pontracio, are you joking?”

“Why would you think I’m joking?” he snapped, taking a step forward. “What else can we do? This isn’t our fight.”

“But it IS--”

“I’m an archaeologist, and you’re a CHILD! We’re not soliders! And did you not understand the implications of what she said?”

“She wants to contain it, we can do both--”

“No. If she wanted to help, she would call in the ARMY. But she won’t. Because she wants to keep this affair internal, doesn’t she? Because the government would take what she thinks is HERS. She sent you to fight it after it defeated HER, a pureblood unicorn—can’t you tell she’s using you?!”

“And what do you want me to do?!” cried Daring Do, her anger and fear suddenly reaching their respective breaking points. “YOU were the one who let him out!”

“He would have resurrected eventually! If not by me, then by somepony else! Another archaeologist, another explorer! If he was waiting for six thousand years, what is another hundred, or five hundred, or even a thousand more? This would have happened eventually! The best we can do is RUN!”

Daring Do stared at Caballeron, amazed that she had once found him even mildly attractive--and even more amazed that, on some level, she still did.  That only made the dissapointment worse. “You’re a coward.”

“No. I am a realist.”

“Then go. Save yourself.”

Caballeron groaned. “I can’t leave you, not like that--”

“But you won’t help me either. Fine. See if I care. I have ponies to save.”

Daring Do left the room, slamming the door behind her. She barely even noticed that she was crying.
> Chapter 15: A Merchant, a Camel, and several Bats
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the end of the afternoon drew nearer, many of the merchants were already starting to close their shops and head home early. The day had not been busy, and they saw no reason to carry on their business so late in the heat of the day. At other times, Daring Do might have found it quaint and lovely, but now she just found it almost surreal. They had no idea what was coming for them, the danger that was headed toward them at that very moment.

Yet they still seemed to detest her. She understood why. Although their cultural memory did not recall what had once been interred to the south of their city, the fear of it had carried through the ages. And they had been right. The thing they truly feared that they did not even know existed had been awakened, and was on its way.  

There was no sense in warning them. They would never believe her. But she needed help.

It took her only a few minutes to find one particular stall. When she did, she found that it was empty, having already closed for the day. Normally, being a relatively polite pony, Daring Do would have left it at that—but this was no time for politeness.

She went to the tent assembled behind the stall and threw open the flap. It took her a moment to realize just how terrible of an idea that was as her eyes were assailed by the sight of a tall, thin stallion and a camel, both completely unclothed, snuggling in a pile of blankets.  

“CELESTIA’S FLANK!” cried Daring Do, covering her eyes.

The camel looked up and cried out, immediately trying to cover her hump. The unicorn merchant, likewise, seemed appropriately surprised.  

Daring Do retreated from the tent, letting the flap close and breathing heavily. Her face felt hot. That was almost certainly something she had never considered seeing, nor had she wanted to see it. Interspecies snuggling was still illegal in her home country. Even then, she was ashamed about how excited the thought of it had made her. She did her best to try to make her wings less erect. 

The stallion emerged from the tent, fully naked. That surprised Daring Do for a moment until she recalled that ponies did not, in fact, generally wear clothing.  

She felt a sudden flick of magic against her nose.

“Next time, knock.”

“It’s a tent, how am I supposed to knock?”

“Figure it out.”

The camel emerged from the tent, her hump now covered with a colorful cloth. “I do not stick my nose under the edge of your tent,” she growled. “I would appreciate the same courtesy from you. You are VERY lucky that you did not arrive earlier. It is Thursday morning, after all." 

“Why? What happens on Wednesday?”

The merchant and his wife looked at each other, and then at Daring Do. “You are dense, I believe? Why are you here?”

“And dearie,” sighed the camel, “do get your wings under control, you are embarrassing yourself.”  

Daring blushed, trying to contain her wings, but quickly gave up. “I need help.”

“No,” said the stallion, “I will not touch your wings.”

“Not that! We have a problem! We went to the tomb, the pyramid in the south and...”

“And what?”

“We woke up an ancient creature that had been mummified in a temple below the pyramid, and now it’s coming to this town, probably to drain the life-force of the entire population to resurrect its friends and re-establish an ancient empire.”  

The merchant and his wife looked at each other again. They both sighed.

“Yes,” said the merchant. “And what do you need?”

“You...believe me?”

“I’ve been a desert merchant for the better part of fifty years, to the point where I literally married a camel. These things tend to happen more often than you would think.”  

“What exactly do you need us to do?” asked the camel.

“We need to get the townsponies to safety.”

“This town is in the middle of the desert,” said the merchant. “And there are not enough aircraft. Do you think we could outrun it?”

“No.” Daring Do’s mind raced. “The fort!”

“The fort is ceremonial and barely garrisoned. There is no war in the age of Celestia.”  

“But it is defensible,” said the camel, “by definition. And there is a tunnel beneath it that leads to Hissan’s Pyramid.”

“But if we lock them in there...”

“There isn’t a way out.” Daring Do shivered. “But would they be safe?”

“Yes,” said the camel, “the pyramid is quite safe. My ancestors once tried to raze it to purge its heretical pony idolatry, and they could barely scratch it. There was a cannon and everything.”  

“It will work.” Daring Do did not believe that in the slightest. She doubted anything could stop Seht for long, or even at all—but it was all they had. She just needed to buy time, to try to reduce his power until he could be contained. If he was a monster, that might have worked—she just hoped those rules applied to unicorns as well. “We just need to get them in there.”

“I have an idea for that.” The merchant turned to his wife. “I doubt they will trust an Arabian to lead them anywhere at all.”

“I will do it,” said the camel. “And you will take your role.”

“Be safe.”

“It is not I who needs to take care. May the Will of Delilah protect you.”

“May she protect us both.”

They kissed, and the camel immediately trotted away to take her position. The stallion, his gaze heavy, faced Daring Do. “Come with me. If what you say is true, then we must hurry.”  




The  merchant led Daring Do to the roof of one of the buildings. The view from the top of it was impressive, and a thin breeze blew by. It was a welcome reprieve from the heat, even if it was just a precursor of another frigid desert night.

At one corner of the roof sat a device. It was badly rusted, and Daring Do was sure that in anywhere but a desert it would have long since collapsed to a pile of oxide and cracked rubber. It was incredibly ancient.  

“What is that thing?”  

“There are several in the city. These were placed here during the Third Assyrian Incursion, to warn of incoming war-zeppelins. Back then, likewise, the ponies of this town took refuge in the pyramid, or the fort.”

“That was eighty years ago. There’s no way it still works.”

“It should.” The merchant’s horn ignited, and his magic erupted around the cage protecting the rear of the machine, bending it off its hinges and snapping its rusted metal to force open a door that secured an enormous crank. “They did twenty years ago. I heard them. But from the wrong side.”

Daring frowned. “You...you were a pilot...”

“I was a coxswain, and I was young. There is no war in the age of Celestia. And yet these still exist.”

His magic grasped the giant crank at the rear of the machine, and with a great shove he compelled it to move. Rust fell away as it began to turn and ancient gears began to cycle. Then, as the mechanism spun up, Daring Do put her hooves against her ears, trying to block out the incrediably loud sound of the air-raid siren.



The sound echoed across the city. Every pony passing by suddenly stopped, confused and fearful but unsure of what was happening. The last time the sirens had sounded had been long before their own lifetimes.

But some still remembered. At the sound, stallions and mares in the latest stages of their elderly years sprung from their seats, compelled by training to grab their helmets, just as they had so many decades ago when they were still too young to fight the oncoming donkey horde. After all that time, they still remembered that sound, and they remembered their duty.

Against the protests of their grandchildren and great grandchildren, they raced as quickly as their old bodies could carry them to the roofs of their respective posts, producing the rusted keys that still hung around their necks. They unlocked the sirens and, summoning all their strength, began to turn the cranks.  

The sound propagated, spreading as each siren was activated, one after the other, until the entirety of  town was shrouded in sound.  

“To the fort!” cried a voice from the streets. A voice with a strange aspect and tone, the voice of a camel. “Quickly! To the fort!”

The elderly remnants of the town’s deference force emerged from their buildings, helmets perched on their heads.  

“Follow her!” they called. “In an orderly fashion! Turn out your lights and clear the sectors in order of proximity!”  

And with that, the town began to evacuate itself to its very center.



As they passed by, a different elderly pony looked up from his book, watching them through the window. A pony who was easily ten times the age of even the most ancient specimen that the town had to offer--and yet he had never aged, apart from the loss of a leg and the ever-increasing cravings for a particular silver liquid.  

He heard the sirens, and saw the ponies running in fear—and something else. A voice, calling from the desert.  

He understood better than the rest, and slowly put down his book.  




The merchant stopped turning the siren, out of breath from the exhertion. By then, though, the sound had crossed the entire town.  

“Do you think that will be enough?”

“It is the most we can do.” The merchant turned toward Daring Do, and a strange expression crossed his face.

“What?”

“Friends of yours?”

Daring frowned, but then slowly turned to see two ponies standing beside her—ponies clad in hideous black armor inscribed with asymmetric red runes. One had a large sword on her back. Daring could only recognize her by the name inscribed on the chest of her armor, along with her blood type. 

“Dignity.”

“Also Curiosity!” squeaked the other, in smaller armor. “You can’t tell because you can’t see my face, but I can see you! And all your bones! And the things I can SMELL! That handsome guy over there smells like he snuggled a camel!”  

“Because I did, and do regularly.”

Daring Do looked up at Dignity. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you.”

“Where is Honor?”

Dignity gestured. Daring Do looked, and saw something moving through the air. Something black and oddly shaped, driving through the air but barely managing to sustain its own flight. It was making a sickly whine, and occasionally a sudden pop like a small explosion.  

Then, all at once, the thestrals disconnected from the body of the biplane, escaping it just as it plowed into the spire of a large building, exploding in a plume of flames.  

“Oh my,” said the merchant. “I certainly hope the pilot managed to escape.”	

“He’ll be fine,” sighed Daring Do. “Is that all we have?”

“More are coming, mounted on the spiders. Some have passed the Beast. He slows the farther he gets from the Pyramid, as Wisdom predicted.”

One of the thestrals descended, landing beside Dignity. Even with his armor on, Daring knew that he was Honor. Mainly because the words “Avatar of Honor, age 19, Blood Type NG-” was inscribed on the shoulder of his armor. His blood type was identical to that of hish sister.   

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t stop him.”  

“So I had assumed. And my blade?”

“He...took it.”  

“Then I will require a new one.” Honor looked up.  

The merchant smiled. “I think I can help with that.”  




They returned to the merchant’s tent. By now, the streets were empty, and the whole of the world seemed eerily quiet. The few stragglers who had stayed to retake their possessions ran quickly, screaming in horror as thestrals in full-body rune armor dropped from the sky, filling the streets with soldiers. By this time, the first of the spider cavalry had arrived, making the situation only more terrifying.  

Darning trotted up beside Dignity and Honor. “Dignity.”

“Now is not the time to speak, Pegasus.”	

“I have a question. When it tried to reach your mind--”

“She said,” snapped Honor, “that she does not want to speak.”

“--what did you see?”

Dignity stopped walking. She tapped the side of her helmet, causing the metal covering her face to retract into itself, almost as if it were dissolving. Her pupils immediately narrowed into thin slits, but she withstood the sunlight regardless and faced Daring Do, looking into her eyes.

“I saw a world of darkness, tyranny, and slavery. A world of dark anguish. And I shall do everything required to make sure that your mistakes do not bring that world to fruition.”

“What did you see?” asked Curiosity, asking Daring Do.

“What do you mean ‘what did she see’--”

“Not that,” said Daring Do. “Darkness but...it was different for me.”

“Perhaps the difference is simply a matter of that between the descendants of the oppressed...and of the oppressors.”  

Dignity closed her mask and rejoins Honor. Daring Do fell back to where Curiosity was doing her best to walk in armor.  

“She doesn’t like you,” said Curiosity.

“You think?”

“Not generally, no. You actually saw something in it? It showed you something?”

“I think it tries to communicate if it gets close.”

“What did you see, then?”

“I saw a city lit by some kind of...red sun. Except it was small, and close. And the Pyramid...and something they were trying to make.” She shivered, the thought of the double-helix within each pony disturbing her deeply for an unclear reason. “But I don’t know what it was trying to say...”

“That sounds scary but I totally want to try it.”

“Don’t.” 

“Also, I have another question!”

“Just one?”

“Well, no, but...how did you know it was Dignity?”

Daring frowned. “Why...wouldn’t I? Your armor has your names on it.”

Curiosity looked down to her chest, where the magical runes of her armor surrounded the word “Avatar of Curiosity, age 12, Blood Type N+”. Then she looked back up.

“There aren’t words there. Even if there were, only Wisdom’s allowed to know how to read or write.”  

Daring Do stopped walking, looking back down at the name. She realized that it was, indeed, written there—but not in any language Curiosity could expect to read. It was in the strange, indecipherable language that had lined the inside of the Iron Pyramid. A language that Daring Do herself could not read—or, rather, that she had not been able to read previously.  



The merchant brought them behind his tent, to where an ornate cart sat. He jumped in and levitated out several boxes, cracking off the lids to reveal various colorful, wonderfully scented spices.  

“GAH!” cried Curiosity. “THINGS! SMELLS! I want to roll in it! I want to ROLL IN IT!”

“This is not the time for cooking,” snapped Honor.  

“I know,” said the unicorn, smiling. He then turned and bucked the boxes to pieces. The spices scattered across the sand, and Curiosity immediately began to roll in them. Daring jumped back, surprised at why he had wasted his goods so readily—until she saw the glint of strange metal in the false-bottoms of the crates.

She leaned over and gasped. Inside were a number of silvery blades, all curved strangely and marked with a pair of luminescent angular lines that looked like horns. Among them were odd black things that wriggled and writhed, almost as though they were alive, their chitinous bodies held within frameworks of Equestrian-forged metal.

“Those are Storm Kingdom weapons,” said Daring Do, gaping at the contents of the box. “And Changeling Hive biotech! Those—you couldn’t possibly—”

“As I have said. There is no war in the age of Celestia. But you do not grow wealthy or prosperous selling spices. Ponies find true value in more...durable goods.” He levitated out something assembled from metal and holding something that looked like a living component of an insect, a biological thing grown in a vat of goo specifically for use against ponies—to protect its owners from the ongoing quest for complete and utter changeling extermination.  

“Take what you need,” said the merchant. “I will start a tab.”

Dignity immediately pulled a long Storm-Kingdom blade from the box, while Honor looked into the box and then up at the  merchant.

“Handsome stallion. These are indeed impressive weapons, but I require a blade.”

The stallion turned his horn to his cart, and produced a belt that he wrapped around himself. One scabbard contained his own sword, a curved scimitar of the Arabian Royal Guard, and a second scabbard he gave to Honor, drawing the blade from its home. It was forged from some kind of strange, mottled red metal, its blade perfectly straight but serrated on the back. The hilt, which had been redesigned for a non-magic bearing pony, bore a carved insignia of a thistle blossom.  

“Will this do?”

“It will indeed.”  

“We need to distribute these to our soldiers,” said Dignity. She squeaked into the air, and several more thestrals arrived, removing weapons. Daring Do stepped back, allowing them to arm themselves. The Arabian merchant noticed.

“You have no weapon,” he said. “Take one.”

“Ponies don’t use guns,” she said. “I can’t.”	

“You can’t face it with nothing.”

“You can have mine,” said Curiosity, sitting up from the spices she was rolling in. She unclasped a whip from her side and presented it to Daring Do. “It’s made from the skin of those snakes that like to bite us when we’re asleep. The ones that talk a lot. I don’t even know how to use it. I always whip myself. I’ve started to enjoy it, though.”

Daring looked at it, and then took it.  

“I still must insist,” said the merchant. “At least one. A whip will hardly stop whatever magical beast this may be.”

“I don’t want to hurt it.”

The thestrals stopped and stared at her.

“It wants to hurt you,” said Dignity.

The merchant fished through his box and produced a belt containing several semi-luminescent things that resembled green eggs.

“Changelings are empaths. Only the cruelest and most depraved among them are capable of causing harm. Their weapons generally produce a kind of adhesive. It works nicely for normal prey, although for this probably not. It might at best slow it down.” He threw the belt of grenades to Daring Do, who caught them only to prevent them from bursting on her. “I highly doubt you can hurt anypony with that.”  

Daring Do grimaced and muttered—but took the belt anyway. Given the choice between the two, she vastly preferred the whip.
> Chapter 16: A Perfectly Executed Defense, Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun shined down in the west, casting long shadows. The only sound Daring Do could hear was that of the wind through the empty streets, and the soft sound of the armored thestrals as they moved into their final positions.  

They had reinforced the southern end of the town with whatever they had. Stone, sandbags, and trash had been piled high, and the armored soldiers were waiting behind it. Sometimes, Daring Do could hear them weeping, and the sight of them made her profoundly sad. Almost all of them were children. She understood that each and every one of them knew that this was their purpose, but she also knew that each and every one of them was terrified.  

Many of them had the weapons that Wisdom had provided given them, although others held the ones the Arabian merchant had provided.  They held Storm Kingdom staves and blades, awkward changeling rifles, and whatever swords and blades they could find in the empty buildings. Most if not all of what they had were antiques that none of them had the slightest idea how to use.  

A wheel squeaked as two thestrals arrived with a hastily constructed tachanka with some kind of changeling weapon bolted to the top. They parked it and then hid behind it. One unfortunate child—barely old enough to have his cutie mark—had been forced to remain on top, being tasked with firing the massive gun when the time came.  

Daring sighed, because she knew this was wrong. This was not what ponies were meant for, and not a thing that was supposed to happen in a sane, orderly world. She wished she could summon real soldiers, but she had made her decision. There was no time left.  

She looked behind her, down the long street that led to the fort built upon a rocky outcropping. Beyond it sat the zeppelin field, its mooring tower looming over the entirety of the town. At its top, she saw the glint of a scope.  

The merchant beside her, clad in heavy robes and in the process of loading a crossbow, looked up.  

“It’s time,” he said.

Daring Do turned sharply. To the south, she saw it, emerging from the waves of heat rising off the desert. A vast colossus of bending legs and sand, sprinting at incredible speed across the desert. She heart as the thestrals gripped their laser cannons even more tightly.  

It ran toward them, horribly and unnaturally quick. Then, as it drew closer, it began to fall and collapse, the assembly's body turning to sand and dust as the platform atop it lowered. Seht descended, allowing his creation to return to the dust, no more than mounds and reddish stains remained of it. In the distance, he looked so tiny, but his eastward pointing shadow was vast and of an especially dark shade.  

And he began to walk. Slowly, casting a shield around himself to keep out the sunlight, he marched toward the city.  

“You were a soldier,” said Daring Do to the merchant beside her. “What do you think our chances are?”

“I was a sky-sailor,” replied the merchant. “I was never engaged on the ground. I watched from a distance.” He held up one of his bolts. The tip was not made of steel, but an unusual green metal. “Although they were sure to train us, I suppose.”

“And?”

“And what? If it is a monster, our chances are good. Ponies always win against monsters in the end.”

“And if...he’s not?”

Both Daring Do and the merchant looked out at the desert, watching Seht slowly approach.  

“I can feel it,” said the merchant, coldly. “Something...unnatural. You are asking me if we have any chance against a mage.”	

“Do we?”

“It depends. Wizardry is indeed a hard thing to predict. Some can cast no more than sparkles and lights. Others, though? Others can level kingdoms, or drive them to rise again from the limitless fallen. Some can challenge Celestia herself. But none of those have been born in some time, or will be again. The world moved on.”  

“We should have gotten more unicorns. Summoned everypony we can to fight--”

“And it would have been for naught. You do not sense what that thing is. The...coldness of it.”  

An idea occurred to Daring Do, and she started to turn. “The librarian! Twilight Felt! He’s an ancient pureblood mage--”

“He is an old fart who can scarcely lift his own quill. At his age, he will be useless.”

“Oh...” Daring Do looked back out at the desert. At the silence of it all, and the dark figure, now only a few hundred yards away. “And how much magic do you have?”

“I was a pilot, not a battlemage.” He drew his curved sword. It was steel, without runes. “But I will still stand. May my beloved never set eye upon that hideous thing. For we must stop it here.”

“You never answered my question, though.”

The merchant looked to her. “If we have a chance, you mean? With your militia of sickly, untrained children in unaccustomed armor? From my professional opinion as a former officer of the Saddle Arabian Royal Guard, none. We shall meet our end here.”

Daring Do groaned. “Did you have to tell me that? You’re demoralizing me.”	

The merchant shrugged. “You asked.”  

Daring Do winced and stared out at the desert. Seht was now close enough for her to see the definition of his mask, and the darkness of the shield he cast around his western side, darkening out the light to cast his shadow. At the same time, she also saw that he had developed a limp—and that he was not moving as quickly as he had before.  

Honor, perched atop one of the buildings, drew his borrowed sword and pointed it at the approaching monstrosity. “First line! OPEN FIRE!” he ordered.  

The thestrals did, their strange weapons erupting with red light as lasers cut through the desert. They were oddly silent weapons, but even at a distance Daring Do could feel the heat of the strange light.  

They were barely on target. Most of the beams missed, but those that did hit their mark—or rather, hit their mark’s shield.

A red bubble of light had appeared around Seht’s body, shielding him from the blasts. Some would occasionally break though, but they were attenuated did not even leave the barest of wounds. At this point, his pace did not even slow.  

“Were not the weapons supposed to be effective?” asked the merchant, his desperation beginning to seep into his voice.

“They were supposed to!” cried Daring Do, feeling herself beginning to panic—but at the same time, feeling oddly relieved. “Wisdom said they would, that--” Her eyes widened. “But if he didn’t know the weapons...what if...”

Seht stopped walking, absorbing the blasts from their weapons with ease. He stared at them, as if confused, and then lifted one hoof. An asymmetrical symbol appeared before him, etched into the air. It held for a moment, suspended, and he gently tapped it with one of his dark hooves. Daring Do watch as the runes in the thestral’s armor suddenly ignited with their own corresponding light, and before she could do anything to help them Seht turned the symbol on its side.

The plating of every suite of armor retracted, separating and folding back in upon itself, leaving only a bare frame around the thestrals beneath. With their skin exposed, there was first only confusion. Then came the screaming.

“SUNLIGHT!”

“It burns, it burns! TOO HOT!”

“GAHH MY SKIN! IT BURRRRRNS!" 

They immediately threw down their weapons, with those strong enough to try to escape fleeing for shade. Others, though, were wracked with pain and fear so great that they simply fell down into the hot sand, covering their eyes and screaming, trying to hide their heads from the burning rays of the sun.  

A pony dropped down beside Daring Do, her oversized rifle clattering to the ground. Daring Do realized to her horror that it was Curiosity.	

“Miss fluffy wings it HURTS! IT HURTS SO BAAAAAD!” Curiosity writhed on the ground, her dark skin almost seeming to steam in the sunlight. Steam, or smoke. “Why? WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?! WHY DOES CELESTIA HATE US?!"

The unicorn merchant quickly removed part of his clothing and threw it over the girl, while Daring did her best to hide Curiosity in her shadow—but that was just one of the so many ponies. Of the entire force, defeated by one spell.  

A spell that had linked to their armor. Daring Do’s eyes widened as she realized the implication of what they had done, and how their decision had already doomed them to failure.  

Seht began to walk again—only for his shield bubble to suddenly ignite with brilliant red light. The force of the impact was so great that he was forced backward, all four of his feet digging tracks in the sand. Even then, the shield was not enough, and the impact penetrated with enough force to reach his head, leaving a dent just below the chin of his mask—directly below the slit beneath the headdress portion of the mask.  

The crack of the rifle reached them as the second shot reached Seht’s shield, driving him backward once again. Then another—as Daring Do saw Seht’s shield shift. Not in a way she could understand, but in a way she could feel.  

The thanatanium round struck it, slowing him but this time not penetrating the remodulated sheild. Seht began moving once again, ignoring the next shot entirely as it came. The bullets he had caught had started to deform and incandescence as he melted them in his grasp.  

He had once again begun to move—and showed no sign of stopping.




Wun, from the highest level of the airship spire where her own corsair was docked, watched with tingling excitement through her scope, seeing events unfurl in the great distance through her ornately carved crosshairs.  

It was the definition of perfection. A being of such astounding hideousness, and at the same time of such profound beauty. A monstrous juggernaut, a muscular, powerful being that stood as the very definition of what it meant to be a member of the unicorn race. This particular tingling was not at all innocent. Wun increasingly and desperately wanted to produce numerous children with that level of power and resolve.   

She removed her eye from the scope, ejecting her magazine. She had depleted it of its contents. For a moment, she looked out at the world. She saw the clear blue sky, and the desert stretching out forever. In that instant, she supposed she at least partially understood the beauty that her younger sister saw in the world.  

Below her, though, she saw a zeppelin suddenly shift. It was a small craft, a low-grade but fast yacht, perhaps something owned by a wealthier local. On it, a familiar-looking mule was yelling at a one-eyed griffon and a bruised Pegasus, the latter of the two struggling to unmoor it as the engines popped and whined to life.  

As it detached from its own mast, it turned toward Wun, and she locked eyes with the pilot. She could not help but smile at the boldness.

“I see somepony does not like getting paid.”

She chuckled to herself as she watched the zeppelin depart, reaching maximum speed in a southerly direction. It did not truly matter. She had already sighted what she truly wanted, the most valuable portion of the Pyramid.

“It is hard for me to do this, almost,” she sighed, picking up a second magazine. This one contained the same enormous rounds as the other, but instead of lead, the objects that should have been bullets were made of glass. Glass that glowed from within, ignited by swirling magic and the figures that had been cast within them. The bullet on tope, a blue one, seemed to hold a pair of tiny iridescent dragons. 

She slid the magazine in and slammed the bolt forward.  

“I suppose it is medieval of me,” she mused, “but I request, my dear, future beloved, that you prove yourself to me. Or else, I suppose, taxidermy will be adequate...”

She sighed, and then took aim.
> Chapter 17: A Perfectly Executed Defense, Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daring sensed it before the others, if only because she knew what to expect. 

“GET DOWN!”  

She tackled the merchant and threw herself over Curiosity, who was now writhing in terror from being unable to find her way out of the blanket covering her.  

The caster shell struck Seht’s shield, trailing a thin blue line behind it. As it did, the beam connected, and suddenly the world erupted as a twin pair of translucent forms trailed like lightning down the path of the shell, the image of two coiling twin dragons spiraling from the end of Wun’s rifle toward their target. The air itself seemed to ignite in light and heat. 

When the entirety of the contained spell struck, it detonated in a plume of energy brighter than the sun. The explosion ripped through the air, flinging screaming thestrals in every direction and leveling several buildings. Daring Do held her head to the ground, avoiding the blast of light and the sudden violent surge of magical energy spilling out from the impact zone. Even clinging to the ground, she felt herself being lifted from the force, feeling the electrical sensation of magic washing over her and a familiar taste of metal in her mouth.

The merchant raised his horn and cast a shield spell, protecting them from the brunt of the impact, although it was apparent that his magical skill was only passable at best.  

When Daring Do could finally look up, she saw the destruction wrought over the battlefield. Any fortifications they had managed to assemble were gone, and the thestrals had been thoroughly dispersed as well as largely injured.  

And yet their foe still stood. He stood firm, his shield spell broken, holding the sword that had once belonged to Honor before him. The blade was no longer black, but luminescent white, the now-active runes on its sides releasing waves of powerful magic. Although the magical blade had absorbed most of the spell, the effect had still been devastating—much of Seht’s body had been badly damaged, revealing only black, bitumen-like fluid among iron bones.  

He fell to his knees, stabbing the sword into the sand to support himself. The sand boiled on contact with the magic, and even before his body could generate a system of spells traced themselves across the ground around him. The space around his mask erupted in red light.  

Suddenly, a spell erupted from him. A single beam, a blast of red light focused forward and upward, a single ray of magic that traced its way through space, drawing itself across the zeppelin tower. Daring Do saw the hydrogen cells of several zeppelins ignited explode, the corsair’s included. Then the beam slashed through the tower itself, cutting through the steel even at a distance—and the whole of it began to collapse.  



Wun lay in a growing pool of silver fluid, quietly laughing to herself. The only caster shells worth using came at a terrible price, as did all important things in life. Yet she had survived—and borne witness to a sight she had never before seen firsthand.  

She sensed the beam in her teeth even before it ignited, slicing its way around her and through the docking spire. She saw the explosions, and watched as her world was consumed by fire. With what little magic she could summon, she bubbled herself, just as her platform fell and she plummeted to the sands below.  




The magic expenditure had badly weakened Seht. As he stood, panting, parts of his body began to dry and collapse to dust. He quickly took a deep breath, and his body once again started to regenerate—slowly.  

That was when he was suddenly struck by a liquid projectile. It exploded at his side, covering him in a green, sticky fluid that rapidly oxidized into a black substance harder than cement. Turning his face toward it in confusion, Seht attacked it with his magic, corroding and weakening it—only to be struck by another three balls of the substance by the time he had collapsed the first one.	

The least injured of the thestrals had redoubled their efforts. Weakened and injured by the sunlight and the blast, some had taken hold of their changeling weapons and were continuing the attack in a last, desperate effort.  

The strongest of them rushed forward in spite of the sunlight that burned their bodies, their swords raised high.  

Dignity met her adversary first, raising her blade over her head and bringing it down with as much force as she could summon. Seht, still bound by the changeling adhesive, raised his own sword in defense. There was a sound of metal striking metal, and Dignity’s blade was cleaved in twain.  

With a single motion, Seht shifted his own blade, preparing for a downward strike. Dignity, thrown off balance, could not move to block in time.

Honor, though, leapt over her, blocking with his own borrowed blade. Seht’s glowing rune-sword struck the mottled metal, and the convergence of two equivalent blades produced a sudden surge of magical feedback. Honor and Dignity were knocked back by the blast, and Daring Do leapt into the air, grabbing Honor as he was thrown past her.  

“Move! Move, we’ve almost won!” he cried, and Daring Do had to agree.

They two of them raced back into the battle, just as Seht had extricated every part of himself except one of his rear legs. The blast had apparently injured him, and his hold on his sword was weakening. Still, though, he directed it at Dignity, who was lying on the ground, dazed by the blast.  

Honor jumped back into the fight, raising his own blade for a second block. Seht, now knowing the effect of crossing swords with Honor, was forced not to strike. Instead, the space around his mask ignited with red light.

Daring Do, springing into action, unhooked her whip. She flicked it out, and, against all odds, it somehow wrapped around Seht’s neck, right where she had wanted it to land. Jumping past the larger creature, she landed and pulled with all her might, forcing his head upward. The bolt of energy meant for Honor fired harmlessly into the air.

“Please, stop!” cried Daring Do through the handle of the whip in her teeth. “We don’t want to hurt you!”

Dignity, no longer dazed, and as Seht turned his head to look back at Daring Do, his mechanical eyes empty and soulless but the eyes below them pleading and pained, Dignity plunged a Storm Kingdom blade into his chest.  

The voltage arced through his body, through his magically generated flesh and into his iron bones on its way to the ground. The energy was so great that it conducted through the whip around his neck and into Daring Do herself, knocking her back with surprising force. Seht, though, could not escape it; his leg was still stuck, and he was forced to conduct the full force of the blade’s magic through his body. He stood there, convulsing and sparking and starting to smoke.

Honor and Dignity stepped back, still holding a defensive posture but seemingly sure that the battle was over. That Seht, already weakened, could certainly not withstand this blow. Daring Do, to her own horror, realized that she had  inadvertently been complacent with their deception.   

Even the remainder of the thestrals began to peek out from their hiding places, smiling and on the verge of cheering—not realizing that they could only step out at all because the sky had begun to suddenly darken.

Daring Do looked up, though, and saw that what had once been a clear blue sky was now filled with yellow storm clouds, dark and frightening, rolling in from every side. Storms that had begun to violently circulate around them, forming a vast and terrible vortex.  

Then the sky exposed with lightning, red bolts of energy striking down from above, not directed at the thestrals but at Seht himself. Electricity from above pouring through his body, vaporizing the changeling cement binding him and fueling the rapid and horrific regeneration of his flesh.  

Dignity’s eyes widened, not understanding. “What—what’s happening?!”

A thought came to Daring Do, and she cried out in realization. What Wisdom had said, but that they had dismissed. That Seht was King of the Red Desert—and Lord of the Tempest

The weapons the thestrals had brought began to shake, and then suddenly burst, the glass chambers holding their power crystals shattering as the crystals within were reduced to pure magic. The magic, siphoned from its source, began to revolve around Seht as he absorbed more and more of it, restoring himself and his internal power.

The unicorn merchant appeared beside Daring Do, picking her up and pulling her away. As he did, he lifted his crossbow and fired dimeritium-tipped bolt at Seht. Seht did not even bother to block it; instead,  he opened a small portal. The bolt passed through, and the merchant cried out as it suddenly emerged from a second portal and lodged into his own  horn.  

The space around Seht erupted into red light, then contorted, folding a cube around him as he levitated into the air. Daring Do stared up at it, and then found herself screaming in pain. She saw the symbols it was constructed of, and comprehended their horrible meaning—but she was a Pegasus, and her brain was not capable of withstanding the profound magical force held within them. She closed her eyes, trying to block them out, but even without seeing the symbols closed she could still perceive them.  

Seht rose into the air, the cube turning slowly around him as he accumulated more and more energy from his surroundings. The original Storm Kingdom blade oxidized and collapsed to dust, and the storm above him seemed to freeze. The world, for one tiny, brief moment, was suspended in silence.  

And then Seht released the full force of his contained magic. Not outward, but inward, driving the entirety of it into his body, summoning it into an uncontrolled and limitless amplified feedback wave.  

The merchant, though wounded, cast one last shield spell around himself and Daring Do as the blast went off. Daring Do was blinded by the surge, and she heard a sound like breaking glass as the merchant’s shield spell was torn asunder. Then there was a blast of pain, and then only light. As she fell, she saw a smoking metal mask dropping to the ground before her.  




With a gasp, Daring Do awoke. For a moment, she was sure she was paralyzed, because she could not move. Except that was not entirely true. With an incredible amount of mental effort, she could; it was not damage to her nerves, but a form of extreme fatigue. From the cold sweat covering her body, she wondered if she had been convulsing, and for how long.  

She did her best to stand, but the world was spinning and cast in strange colors. The sensation was new to her, a sense of grogginess and confusion that she could only liken to the sensation of being a small filly filled with asp venom coursing through her veins.  

With great effort, she stood. The merchant lay beside her. He had fallen partially covering her. His injured horn was sparking with energy, and he was unconscious but still breathing. Daring Do lurched her way across the sand, feeling the world tilt, to find the same of Dignity and Honor. Both were collapsed in the sand, and both were alive.

The only pony that did not seem to be unconscious was her—and a earth stallion sitting, watching, and drinking from a large bottle.

“Cretin…?”

“You’re all so lucky,” he said. “Nopony got hurt more than they can’t get less hurt from.”

Daring Do nearly collapsed from nausea. “Can’t say the same for Seht.”

“No. She’s fine too.” Cretin pointed.  

Daring Do turned. She wished she had not.

A skeletal hoof extended from the sand, clawing forward. The mask, though intact, was now connected to a skeleton instead of a body. A skeleton that was rapidly regenerating itself. As Daring Do watched, black fluid surrounded it, assembling into something like flesh. Into a body, skin, a cutie mark and a glossy tail. It must have taken several minutes, though, and the regeneration was barely complete by the time Seht finally rose to a standing position. He walked forward with a severe limp, favoring one rear limb severely and breathing heavy, ragged breaths.  

He approached Daring Do. Daring, barely able to stand herself, braced for an attack. She saw red light ignite around Seht’s headdress, and felt herself gently pushed out of the way. Confused, she watched as Seht slowly limped past her and toward the city.  

“Wh...what?” Daring Do turned to Cretin, who just shrugged.

“She’s not Nightmare Moon," said Cretin, "therefore, not a threat. So why even bother? Come have a drink, I still have more glowsticks.”

Daring Do stared at him, not understanding the meaning of his words but knowing the intent. She could not, however, give up.  

So she followed Seht.




Seht proceeded into the city, toward the fort. Daring followed, not sure exactly what to do. She was one pony, almost on the verge of unconsciousness herself. She doubted she could do much, although she still had the changeling grenades that the merchant had given her. In his current state, she doubted that Seht could get out of them easily. It might stop him—or it might just buy a little more time.

Except that something in her mind was telling her that something was wrong. Something did not add up, and did not make sense. It was a nagging, irresistible thought. It was like a puzzle was set out before her, but a piece was missing. Or several. It was like Caballeron in the Iron Pyramid, mistaking the Quadrangle for a Trinity. A single piece of information was missing, a single flash of insight.   

But there was little time left. If Wisdom was right and Seht reached the fort, what he might do was unfathomably terrible. Except that, as far as Daring Do had observed, Seht had never shown any aggression unless he was attacked first.  

She was so engrossed in this thought that she nearly ran into him when he finally stopped. Not at the fort, but in an alley lined with high buildings. Daring Do frowned, and then looked up herself to see what Seht was staring at—and she saw a simple sign painted with the sign of a star.  

Seht turned, changing course, and passed through the door to the library. Daring Do watched, dumbfounded, until she smelled a strange, unpleasant rotting smell.

She looked out at the street and saw that every plant, ever potted fig tree and every small, manicured garden, was rapidly dying and decaying. From the far end of the alley, her sister was approaching, her gate unsteady and her rifle at her side. Her eyes were wide and her teeth bared, her fur stained with mud and silver. She barely even looked like a pony.  

“Daring,” she said, a rasp escaping her open mouth, her lips and jaws unmoving as she spoke. “You look as I feel. Which is to say, terrible.”

“Wun, I thought--”

“I can taste it, Daring.”

“Wun? What do you...”

“I can taste it. I can taste what is mine. I have to have it. I WILL have it.”

“Wun, the mist-spell and the caster, you’re not in any state to keep going, you have to stop--”

Wun’s head turned sharply, her narrow pupils focusing on Daring Do. “Don not try to stop me, you hideous little winged beast. The prey is weak. My own sister shall not steal from me. Not my rightful property. Shall she?”

Daring Do winced, and took a step back. She gestured to the door of the library. “He’s in there.”

“Then so shall we be,” said Wun, tearing the door of its hinges and throwing it to the side.  

Inside, Daring Do was met with the coolness of the air within the library and the familiar scent of books. She was also greeted by an oddly pitiful sight. Not far from the door, Seht was lying on his side on the cold tile, among the shelves, gasping for breath and no longer able to stand.  

A disturbing smile crossed Wun’s face, and her magic gripped her rifle more tightly. As she stepped forward, though, her path was blocked with a pale unicorn with a mottled face.  

“May I help you?” asked Twilight Felt, blocking Wun’s path to Seht.  

Wun’s head cocked, her mouth contorting into a distinctly inequine snarl. “A child of House Twilight, how unexpected but so very...predictable. That this backwater would conceal a bastion of heresy and perversion as yourself. You may assist me by stepping aside. That creature is my property. I purchased it.”  

Felt nodded. “And you, of House Perr-Syntt, a lineage of ponies with curiously vegetable-based cutie marks. Considering you are the descendants of farmers, that is not unexpected.”

Wun's pupils narrowed. “For the sake of your advanced age, I present you with one chance. Just one,” growled Wun, through gritted teeth. “Step aside, heretic.”  

“This is a library,” said Felt, sternly. “All are welcome here. This is a safe place for all to learn. Neutral territory, so to speak. There will be no fighting here.”  

“Then your chance is expended. Celestia is not here to protect you, young-House filth. This action is legally justified.”

Wun raised her rifle and, before Daring could stop her, fired a caster shell directly into Felt’s chest.

The room ignited with light as the explosion tore through the shelves, ripping books to shreds and reducing their pages to ash. Shelves splintered as the room filled with light and smoke as the entirety of the library was reduced to rubble.

Daring Do watched in horror, but just as she was about to close her eyes the direction of the explosion seemed to reverse. The dragons from the shell quivered and retreated, moving backward. The splinters of the shelves moved backward, finding one another and reassembling themselves into well-polished furniture. The torn pages of books found their way back into their spines and covers, and ash reassembled into ancient tomes. The books flew back onto the shelves into their correct and organized positions as the light and smoke retracted onto itself, reforming itself into a single glass shell.

Then Daring watched in amazement as the shell moved in reverse, retreating backward from Twight Felt to the tip of Wun’s barrel. Wun watched too as the casing, which had not even yet struck the ground, reversed course, sliding into the side of her rifle as the bolt wrenched itself from her grasp and slammed back into position.  

Daring turned to Twilight felt, and beheld a terrible sight. His horn was ignited with brilliant pink-violet light, and the sleeved that covered his tattooed hoof had been fully incinerated by the mark beneath. Daring Do now beheld a system of unfinished runes fashioned from a language that no pony could ever hope to read without being consumed with instant madness, centered around a single pentagram which held at its center a brilliant red eye.    

Silver fluid began to drip from Twilight Felt’s eyes, ears, and nose. He glared at Wun, who stared back. It was the first time Daring Do could recall having ever seen her sister afraid.  

“Banned!” cried Twilight Felt, and before Wun could protest her body was surrounded by a violet sphere. She vanished in a flash with barely a poof.  

For a moment, the room was silent, and then Twilight Felt lurched and fell to the ground.  

Daring Do rushed to his side, catching the elderly stallion as he fell. His body was oddly light, as if he were made of paper.

“I can’t believe I just saw that!” she gasped, helping him to the floor. “That was—that was chronoplexy, you’re a chronoplexer—”

“There are no natural-born chronoplexers,” sighed Felt, wiping silver from his mouth. “Such would be impossible by all known...all known laws of magic...” He grimaced, and his body shook.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m old is what’s wrong. Did the explosion hurt you? I can’t reverse everything sometimes, with biological tissue--”

“I’m fine, but you’re hurt!”

“If I met my end protecting books, then my life would have been worthwhile.” He sighed. “Although I doubt I will be allowed depart with such dignity.”

The ground around them shifted, changing as a rune traced itself in red magic. The magic burst into something like flame, but more granular and sparkly. The red light s hifted around them, instead becoming golden. Daring Do took a sudden breath, surprised how easy it was, or how good she felt.

Twilight Felt’s eyes widened. “This is restoration magic.”

Both of them looked behind themselves, to where Seht’s was standing at the apex of the spell. Then the light around his head faded, and he continued deeper into the library.

Daring helped Twilight Felt to his feet. “I should go,” she said.

“You may stay,” he said. “If you respect the books, and the other patrons. Your sister, I am afraid, is too uncouth today for the library. I have given her a two-day ban. The first one, actually. I feel so terrible.”

“It’s okay. She doesn’t even like reading. But she’s powerful, she might--”

“No. She is not. Not in the slightest. Being a pureblood sometimes comes with...overconfidence. It is more an axiom than anything else.”  

Daring Do had never thought of that before. She had always assumed that her sister was an almost godlike figure, a member of the upper echelon of Equestria’s master race.  

“I would only suggest,” said Felt, looking over his shoulder at Seht, “that you do not disturb her.  She is something I cannot readily predict. Why not take a seat, and read a bit?”

Daring nodded, and watched as Felt limped behind his desk and picked up a book and began reading, as if the Seht’s presence in his library was no different from that of a child looking for a book on scorpions or a student looking for a particular magic tome.  

Daring Do, though, could not contain her inherent curiosity. Although she kept her distance, she followed Seht through the library. Seht did not seem to be in any particular hurry as he moved to the center of the room.

Then he engaged a spell. Books flashed with red light as they were pulled from the shelves, orbiting Seht. Then, as Daring Do watched, thin threads formed between the tomes and Seht’s head. The books swirled faster, some being re-shelved as new ones were drawn, all forming gossamer strands of text flowing into Seht’s mind. Soon the entire of the library was in motion, each book being taken, assimilated, and replaced in a systematic pattern with mechanical precision. Daring could not help but stare, not quite in awe but not quite in confusion either. It made no sense, and yet perfect sense. Seht had not come for the ponies in the town, but for this. He had identified the location of the nearest library and traveled in a straight line toward it.  



The process took a surprisingly long time, and Daring Do found herself sitting at a table with a book on rare and unusual edible grasses laid out in front of her. She barely even looked at it, noticing it only when it was gently picked up in red magic and spent a few moments orbiting Seht before being replaced on the desk and opened to the correct page. Beside it, Daring had taken a quill and was quickly jotting down a hastily-prepared letter.

After perhaps thirty or forty minutes, Seht returned the last of the books to the shelves and stood still for a moment. Then he took a single deep breath--a sigh--and began walking to the exit of the library.

Daring Do nearly fell out of her chair trying to follow him, and was looking past a shelf when Seht stopped at Twilight Felt’s desk, his mechanical mask slowly turning toward the unicorn as Felt set down his book.  

“You...you are...the Scion of Line of the Darkbringer.” The voice that came from Seht bore a bizarre and erudite accent, and though it was mechanically distorted and deepened by the mask, Daring Do instantly recognized the voice as female.  

Twilight Felt looked up from his book. “The current Scion is my niece, and she will be the last. But yes. I am of House Twilight.”  

“These words...these are the first words I have ever spoken.”  

“Then I am honored to be the first you have spoken to, miss. But might I ask, how do you know my family?”

“Our Lines cross, in the distant past. The Abyssal Darkbringer...Twilight Void. In your language. He...she...was dear to us. The first of your kind to address us.”  

“I am ashamed that our line no longer recalls his or her name.”  

“You have no reason to. That your Line remains... this means the prophecy is still intact.”

Felt smiled. “That an immortal born of House Twilight will lay waste to this world and bring about the demise of all things pony. None of this House are immortal, and none ever shall be. This, I assure you.”  

“And yet I fear I awoke too early regardless.”  

She started walking toward the door. Felt stood up.

“I cannot protect you out there,” he said, quickly. “They are hunting you.”

“And yet I cannot remain here. I am too distant from the Codex. My cellular structure is decaying. And my task is codified. It..." Her voice wavered. "...must be completed.”  

“Are you sure?”

Seht turned back to Felt. The light behind her mask illuminated, and one of the blank notebooks form Felt’s study levitated to her side. The magic closed around it, and then it hissed as smoke rose from the pages. She presented it to Felt.  

“What is this?” he asked, taking it.  

“Repayment. The content of the Codex concerning what you seek.”

Felt opened the book, and Daring Do saw his eyes grow wide. Even in the distance, she could see that it was written in Arcanic, the text burned into the pages.

“What is this?” he said. “This...this his documentation...about everything...” He stopped suddenly on one page, and tears welled in his eyes. “These...these are coordinates...” He looked up. “To where?”

“To somewhere far beyond.” Seht started walking toward the door. “With this, I settle my debt, and depart with a warning." She gestured to Twilight Felt's hoof. "Do not complete that Mark. Your kind, the Silver. You never comprehend the forces you consort with. It will consume you, inevitably, as it did the others.”  

Daring Do stepped out from her hiding place and, against all logic and better judgment, ran after Seht. “Wait! Seht, I need to talk to you--”

She blocked Seht’s path, but was pushed out of the way softly with a burst of magic. Seht did not look at her, and did not address her. She stopped at the space where the door had been, and where Wun was glaring at her from across the street, her body unable to enter the perimeter of Twilight Felt’s exclusion spell.  

Then, in a flash of light, Seht teleported.  

Daring turned back to Twilight Felt, who was now standing, holding what was now the most precious book of his collection. He seemed oddly pale.  

“She didn’t even talk to me.”

“I doubt she would,” said Felt, staring at the gap. “I am well over eight hundred years old, the son of Twilight Phoenix. And her age dwarfs even mine.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Felt stared at her. The look on his face was severe.  

“What?”

“I do not know what she intends to do. But she is a mage of almost unfathomable power, and power that seems to come from an external source.” He held up his marked hoof. “Like much of mine does.”

Daring Do took a breath. “I know. And I have a gut feeling that this is still going to go very bad, very fast. I...” She looked across the street to Wun, and decided to make a decision on her own for once. She turned back to Felt, and held out the letter she had written. “I think we need reinforcements. Your niece is part of the Royal Court, right? Can you contact her? We need reinforcements. From Canterlot.”

“We...do not have a good relationship. But I think she will make an exception.”

“I can get you a carrier pigeon, if you give me a few minutes--”

Felt smiled. He took the letter from Daring Do, folding it into a scroll and wrapping it with a small band of cloth with the House Twilight seal. “I am a Twilight. We have other ways to communicate.” He held the paper to his horn, and it ignited with magical fire, burning away to nothing but producing no ash. “But it will take time. I’m not strong enough to intervene, not anymore. The outcome of this is now up to how you choose to handle it, adventurer.”

Daring Do took a breath. “I know,” she said. “And I have an idea.”
> Chapter 18: A Daring Plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daring Do moved quickly to the edge of the town, past where the thestrals were doing their best to recover. The sun had started to set, and a few ponies had emerged from the fort. They sensed that the danger was over. Daring Do was not so sure it was.

Wun caught up to her. “It has escaped,” she said.

“No. She hasn’t. She’s going back to the Pyramid, just like Wisdom said she would.”

“To do what, exactly?”

Daring Do frowned, but did not slow her pace. “I don’t know. But I think it’s something bad.”

“Whether it is or is not, it does not matter either way.” Wun shrugged. “I still intend to capture it.”	

“She. She’s a mare. A unicorn, and an old one.”

“A unicorn that can take a caster shell to the face.”

“A shell you shouldn’t have fired with ponies so close! You could have hurt somepony, really bad!”

“I did what I had to. And I shall continue to do what is required. At the speed you are walking, am I to assume you have a plan?”

“I think so. We need to stop her. I don’t know what she’s doing, and I don’t think she’ll tell us like this.” Daring looked over her shoulder. “She came out here for the library. To assimilate knowledge about our world.”

“Tactical knowledge? Or strategic?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much did she take?”

“All of it.”  

Wun stopped. “You mean to say she drew knowledge from every book?”

Daring Do, likewise, stopped. “Yes. Why?”

“Because House Twilight is known to specialize in magic. Very powerful, very dark magic. And often, it is said, magic associated with incomprehensible depravity. Although the latter is mostly a rumor."  

Daring Do had not considered that. “And now...she knows everything Twilight Felt knew...”

“Yes.”

Daring Do took a breath and started flying. Wun followed in a graceful gallop, moving swiftly over the darkening desert sand toward the Get Out Inn.  

“And your plan?”

“Her sarcophagus. It was built to contain her. I think that’s what the runes were for. If I can get to it, I think I can use it to stop her.”

“The spells are written in a language we cannot understand.”

“No. The spells are written in HER language. I think...I think she was trying to communicate before. Telepathically. It didn’t work, but I think...well, I think I can read her language now. At least a little bit.”  

“You think you can read the spell.”

“I think that magic is powerful enough to contain her.” Daring Do groaned. “Except it will take time to read the spell. And I...I don’t think it will work if she’s moving. There's probably a ritual or an incantation or something, and I need time to be able to cast it." 

“I see,” said Wun. “So what is it you need from me?”

Daring Do landed, not near the Inn but near the termite mounds where the sha were now resting, content and fat off their extended meal. The leader of the group stood up, approaching Daring Do and licking her face with its long tongue.  

“You have to stop her from moving. Just for long enough for me to read the spell.”

“Assuming you can get it prepared in time.”

“I have to.” Daring Do looked to her sister.  "So I will."

Wun sighed. “Then I shall stop it.”

“If you think you have a plan of your own...I hadn’t really thought that far ahead...”

“I think I can spellbind her.”  

Daring Do’s jaw clenched. “That’s insane, why would you even think that? She’s a several-thousand-year-old mage with a body that, so far, we haven’t even been able to put a scratch on! And a telepath, and, as we just went through, she now possesses an entire library worth of modern and archaic spells--”

“She can’t use spells if she is spellbound. That is how it works. Skill has nothing to do with it. Only raw power, and raw will. I will be able to survive for several seconds. So you will need to succeed, and do so with great precision.”  

“Wun, I can’t let you do that--”

“I am putting my faith in you, sister, for your half of this plan. Please also put your faith in me.” She lifted her rifle and ejected the magazine. She removed one round from it. It was another caster shell, although this one had a tip made out of a violet material, like carved amethyst. She cast her magic around the shell, and then extended it to Daring Do. “But if I do fail, you will need this.”

“I can’t--”

“It is a thirty-seven. A condensed teleportation spell. Not something that will work on a mage, but it will work on you. If I fail, and if this goes as badly as I expect it might, break the shell. I have tuned it to take you to the nearest white unicorn. As repulsive as House Twilight is, they are among the most respectable of all of us. He will protect you when I could not.”

Daring Do looked up at Wun, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears.  

“Also,” said Wun, “I am sorry I called you a beast. I got too excited.”  

Daring Do, with tears in her eyes, took the shell and tucked it into her pocket. As she did, she produced a scrap of paper and a pen and scribbled a note down on it.

“These are the coordinates,” she said. “I’ll set the trap there.”

“And I will be waiting.”  

Daring nodded, and then straddled the back of her chosen sha. The creature stood up, as did the rest of them, the whole of the herd letting out a low, somber warble. Then, with one last nod, Daring Do took to the desert, its sands drenched in the light of a beautiful sunset. Wun watched her go. She was smiling.
> Chapter 19: The Thief
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Metal clattered to the ground, interrupting the utter silence of the tomb. Caballeron nearly jumped out of his ascot, turning suddenly to face an extremely embarrassed-looking griffon hen, her bag of scrap and artifacts having torn open.

“Would you PLEASE be careful? Artifacts are distinctly more valuable undamaged!”

“It’s just scrap--”

“And you’re the only one here with fingers, no? The one for whom holding onto things should be trivial?”  Caballeron picked up one of the shattered pieces of dark iron the floor, one of the several pieces that had once made up the now-destroyed door of the central burial chamber. “This is an indestructible alloy, worth a hundred times its weight in gold!”

A scrawny, largely toothless Pegasus poked his head from around the corner of the hall. “If it’s indestructible, why’re we worried about breaking it?”

“Are you questioning me?!” snapped Caballeron. “Don’t forget who’s paying you!”

“Not you,” said an earth-pony mercenary with a very short tail, who may or may not have had a significant amount of donkey ancestry. “Except on credit. Now that we know where this place is...if you maybe--”

“Had an unfortunate accident? Fell down a hole, perhaps? And I suppose mercenaries like you have the contacts necessary to fence five-thousand-year-old pieces of metal?”  

The mulish fellow glowered, but sighed. “And what, exactly, are we supposed to be looking for? I figured a tomb would be full of gold chairs and piles of gilded carrots or something...”

“Chairs? Carrots? Is that what you think is in tombs?”

“Well...aside from, you know, the bodies?”

“The body, in this case, is the very reason we need to make haste!" Caballeron glared at him. "This is quite literally my job! I am the expert here, not you! Anything you can pick up, anything at all we can sell it! We don’t have time to be picky! I do not want to be here when the owner gets back.”

“He means the unicorn that cut off your tail,” said the griffon.

“No,” snapped Caballeron. “I mean the unicorn that spent the last five millennia sitting here, drawing power, preparing to reestablish dark dominion on this world. Unless maybe you wish to try to fight him?”

The mercenaries said very little. They were inadequate in every way possible, but they were the only muscle Caballeron had access to. He supposed one day he would be able to hire real mercenaries for henchponies, as his curved-horned former employer had. He simply needed to accumulate enough funds first.  

Caballeron led them to the main burial chamber. Although he entered it without hesitation, the others stopped at the door, the griffon holding out her torch. The room remained unchanged since Caballeron had last left it. The massive spell-inscribed blocks were still split, with piles of dry bones at their base, save for one that now stood empty. Caballeron passed by the revenite, now depleted, knowing that it was probably still the most valuable thing in the room. He did not have the time to extract it now, though. Instead, he made his way to the far side of the room, where the spells inscribed on the floor condensed around one of two much smaller, winged skeletons.  

“This...this place is bad,” said the griffon.

“It’s a burial chamber,” snapped Caballeron. “It is not like they are going to get up and attack you.”

“Um...”

“Just do your job and collect artifacts!”

“But...there aren’t any...”

Caballeron turned around and pointed at the collapsed mummies. “Right there! Do I need to spell it out for you? Take the bones!”

The ponies and griffon stared at him, horrified. “But...but those are ponies...”

“They WERE ponies. Now they are PRODUCT. Each one of those is worth at least half a million bits! Try to get a complete set unless you’re too incompetent for even that.”  

Caballeron himself kicked aside one of the useless, non-valuable skeletons sitting next to a was-staff. He looked at the ground, quickly translating the spells and parameters set at the base. Spells written in a language that, until recently, he had been totally unable to decipher.  

He adjusted the circular mechanical aspects below the staff connection, finding that they moved with surprising ease despite their age. As it assumed the right conformation, the clasp holding the staff released and he was able to remove it with his teeth. As he did, though, he heard a different mechanical sound. A sound that was curiously reminiscent of flintlock mechanisms being cocked.  

He turned slowly to find his henchponies with their hooves in the air, at the mercy of a much larger group of heavily armed griffons. And, at the head of the griffon forces, a familiar Pegasus pony. A pony now staring at Caballeron with an expression that made something in the pit of his stomach twist, and he had to look away.  

Although ponies, being a prey species, were quick to surrender, Caballeron’s griffon was not. She grasped her sword and charged the smallest of the enemy griffons with a cry—only to be thrown to the ground, disarmed, and wrestled into a secure hold by a griffon twice her age who was wearing a fez.  

“No, stop!” she cried, struggling but unable to break free as his body pinned her. “You’re—you’re aggravating my daddy issues! I’m going to—to—vrrrrrr….vrrrrrr….”

Captain Gruff raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “Are you...purring?”

“NO.”

“Stop making it weird!”  

Daring Do ignored them, instead stepping toward Caballeron. “You’re...you’re looting...”

“No. I am salvaging profit. And if you were smart, you would too, and then get as far from here as you can.”

Daring Do looked up at him, that horrible expression still on her face. Caballeron did not know why it made him hurt inside, but he knew that growing beyond that particular weakness would not be especially difficult. This time, he managed to meet her eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How...how could you?”

“How could I? Where you seriously naive enough to think that I spend this much time sweaty and getting covered in ancient grime and filth for the sake of enjoyment? The whole point of archaeology is profit.” He held up the ancient staff he was holding. “Down here, these are just useless trash, gathering dust and forgotten. But I can turn that into pure, clean wealth.”  

“But—it’s wrong! It’s stealing--”

“Why? Where do you think this staff will go if I sell it? To some private collector’s shelf, or over his bathroom door? If you collected it, it goes to the same place, doesn’t it?”

“But we have a museum, we take care of them--”

“A private, expensive museum where every artifact is viewed only by its owner? Grow up, Daring, we’re after the same thing!”

“We’re not--”

“Yes, we are. And we can work together.”

The expression on Daring Do’s face changed. “Together—you can’t be serious! I’m not a thief! I came back here because I have a plan to stop Seht. I think we can contain her--”

“And why bother?”

Daring Do gaped. “What?”

“Why. Bother?”

“Because if she gets back here, she can...well...”

“You don’t even know. Here’s a hint. Dark pharaoh of an evil empire, perhaps?”

“You don’t know that!”

“I’ve read the Crystallic texts, and I know what she is. They are not kind. Our only option is to get out of here, and as fast as possible. You can come with me--”

“For what? So she can take over Southern Equestria, so she can start a war with Celestia? Because if you’re right, that’s what will happen! If she starts an empire, it will spread, and you’re a fool if you think we can escape it!”

“And by the time she gets that far we will have both passed to the next realm, old and, in my case, wealthy and happy for once in my miserable life. Whether or not you do the same is up to you.”

“I can’t believe I ever...” Daring blushed, and seemed on the verge of tears. “Never mind. But you’re wrong. This isn’t about profit, or even the artifacts anymore. We woke something up here because we weren’t careful, because we didn’t listen—and it’s our responsibility to deal with that.”

“To be honest,” said Gruff, “It’s really his fault, not ours.”  

“It may be our fault,” admitted Caballeron. “But is it really my problem?”

“Yes,” said Daring Do, her expression moving beyond sadness and to one of resolve. “Because I’m tired of sitting here, doing nothing. I’m taking control now. And you don’t have a choice.” Daring Do walked to the other side of the room, activating the mechanism on the floor and removing the second was-staff. “The spell needs two ponies to activate it.” She pointed at the blocks that had protected the skeletons for so many centuries. “Those are the locks, and these are the keys. But they need somepony to turn them.”

Caballeron became pale, looking at the skeletons. “That’s madness, you saw what the spell did to THEM...”

“And I don’t care. You can read it, can’t you?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie. You saw inside her mind, her language.  That’s why you’re holding that staff. You unlocked it. Which means you can read the spells.”

“If you had not noticed, I am NOT a unicorn, and neither are you.”

“You don’t need a horn for this kind of magic. The words will be enough. I think.”

“You ‘think’? Daring, teenage bravado does NOT suit you, we can’t possibly--”

“She’s on her way here. And you saw it in her mind too. The world she wants to build. I didn’t understand it at first, but I think that’s it. A world of darkness.”

“We have no way to--”

“You said it yourself! I don’t even care if she’s just coming home to take a nap, we can’t risk this and we’re the only ponies that can stop it!”

“You cannot expect me to willingly attempt such a misbegotten, half-baked, absurd and ridiculous plan--”

“Actually, I can.” Daring Do motioned to her griffons. “But I shouldn’t have to. It should be common decency.”

“Never once in my life have I been indecent!”

“Yeah, you say that while you’re looting a tomb. A tomb that I was looting too. And it was wrong, but if we had done this right, we could have kept Seht in there for another five thousand years. Geiger!”

One of the griffons stepped forward.  

“Get to work on getting the rigging for those two stones.” She pointed at the ones that had contained Seht. “We need to get them out of here, damaging them as little as possible and we need to do it FAST.” 

“Based on the known density of basalt and factoring in iron inclusions, those each way several tons, more if they’re metric tons, slightly less if they're nautical tons--”

“Can you do it?”

“Well...yes, in theory, but it will be tight--”

“Then do it.”

“Have the tailless mule pull it,” said Gruff.  

“I am not a mule!” protested the mercenary.

“Yes you are, and what in the name of Tartarus’s stank is wrong with you? Why is your tail so short, I can see your stupid pony rump, I don’t want to be looking at that, it's disgusting! Why are you standing there looking ugly?! Work! WORK!”  

The earth pony, terrified, immediately set to finding something to pull, dragging the scrawny Pegasus with him.  

“And you,” said Gruff, to the griffon hen, who he was still holding. “You’re a worse disgrace than your mother!”

“You—you know my mother?” She gasped. “Daddy?”

“I’m not your daddy, and I don’t know your mother, except that she laid whatever egg you hatched out of, so she must be terrible!”

“We don’t come from eggs, we’re cats on the bottom--”

“Stop bothering me with technicalities and pull something! And take off that stupid eye patch, it’s cooler without it! What are you, a pirate? A FLANK pirate?!”

“No, I’m--”

“Move, MOVE, MOVE if you even want to THINK about applying for my team--”

“I didn’t—wait--is that a job offer?”

“MOVE GRIFFON FLANK NOW!”  

The griffon hen immediately got to work doing something, coordinated with the others by Daring Do. Gruff himself, though, made his way to where Caballeron was standing--or rather trapped, by several griffons with large blunderbusses. 

“You gosh-darn horseson, breaking that little girl’s heart when her wings haven’t even lost her down yet!”

“What did I do?!”

Gruff flicked his nose. “Can’t say I don’t understand, I’m a griffon, so take some advice. Ponies always play nice. Generosity and kindness and all that disgusting diabetes.” He picked up a piece of dark iron from one of the spilled looting bags. “But unless you want to be scavenging hunks of old metal for the rest of your stupid, saccharine pony life? Don’t do things halfway.  Have some respect for the craft.”

Caballeron raised a thick eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”  

“It was like back in the War. Don’t burn a bridge if plan on switching sides. You might need it to escape.”

“And if don’t end up existing at the end of it, when the mission is done?”

Gruff shrugged. “What, if the world ends? Then where are you going to spend all that money anyway?”

Caballeron groaned, and felt his flank suddenly struck with a staff.

“Why are you standing there?” chastised Daring Do, “we need to record the text and practice the incantations! We’re only going to get one chance! Stop being lazy and MOVE!” She slapped him again.

“Stop hitting me!”

“Less talking, more education! Learn! LEARN!”  

Caballeron had no choice but to acquiesce, even if this was a terrible idea—but he had taken Gruff’s words to heart. There might still be a way to profit from this.

If only he could figure out how to survive it.
> Chapter 20: Conquering the Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a crack of magic, Seht emerged from the void, dropping to the red sand and collapsing from the exertion of repeated teleportation. It had been a choice made out of desperation alone. The battle at the pony town had almost entirely depleted her of magic.  

Unable to stand, she sat, the only sound escaping her a kind of wet gurgling behind her mask as she gasped for breath, suppressing the sobs of pain. She looked down at one shaking hoof, watching as the gray skin began to collapse away into dust. What lay beneath was not flesh, but a mass of black tendrils already showing signs of blight in this unfamiliar world.  

She focused her mind, and the marks of her spell emerged over her skin, coating her body as she forced her magic to the verge of failure. With great effort, she willed her skin to rebuild itself—and slowly, it did.

The sky was red with dust, and the atmosphere at ground level still with a clouded fog of silica and iron oxide stirred up by the ion storm overhead. Yet, although she could not see it, Seht knew she was close. She had been unable to teleport through the mountains and instead had taken herself as far as a thin pass between them. It had once contained vast hydrocarbon pipelines, but they had long-since been buried under the sand or chipped away to build primitive iron tools. This was the only way into the central crater. The only way home.  

She could hear the voices, and feel herself leaving her mind, replaced only by the Codex. Its power was returning to her, making her whole again. If she could only get a bit closer, she could use it to fully restore her cellular integrity and her magical power.  

Except that it would never be so easy. Through the darkness of the storm and the blinding brilliance of the sun-lit world, Seht saw a figure emerge from the silence of the dust. Another unicorn, pure of Line but of a different breed, one of the three available types. Her body was in draconic scales, and rifle was held at her side. She was smiling. The fragments obtained from the soft-winged filly indicated her as Wun, daughter of Wun-Hun-Dredd, of the Line Perr-Synt.  

Seht remained ambivalent, as she had been programmed. She only stood. Then, she began to walk. The only direction she could move was forward, toward the Codex. It was her only hope for survival.  




Wun watched as the dark unicorn struggled to stand. Her hearts were beating in excitement as she watched her prey 
in its weakened state. It was a core instinct, one from the days before magic had allowed her ancestors to dominate the world. There was a certain liberation to it. Her organs were in all the wrong places, a problem only further compounded by the use of compressed magic—and there were no plants of any kind around for her to draw strength from. No nature but sterile, iron-contaminated soil.  

And yet this was the spot her sister had chosen, and Wun had put all her faith into a single event. A single decision that could only have one of two outcomes. The sense of commitment was exhilarating.

“You can understand me,” she said, shifting her weight and assuming a defensive stance. “And you need to understand that your continued existence is important to me. After all, I do not enjoy destroying my possessions. I loath it, in fact. And regardless of how much you are resisting me, I own you. Understand that I have purchased you, body and soul.”

Seht did not stop moving, and did not speak. Wun had fully expected the former, but was disappointing by the latter. She had truly wished to hear her future husband’s voice.  

Wun summoned her magic, ignoring the intense pain of doing so. She fired a bolt, which Seht deflected. Not with a shield bubble, but only a small portion of magic. Just enough to absorb the impact. Seht countered with a weak strike of lightning that split into several heads.

Wun cast a shield that immediately disintegrated on impact, but allowed the remaining bolts to strike her, instead firing again, directly at Seht’s head. Seht deflected, parts of his skin turning to dust and flecking off as he did so. Even then, he did not stop. Wun felt her horn tingling, and not only out of the severe pain of magic overuse. As all unicorns, she was utterly incapable of love, but she certainly felt desire. At this point, it was the only thing keeping her standing. And it only continued to grow.  

Wun fired again, and Seht blocked, focusing his energy onto a shield spell. It was almost enough, but he was still holding back, still containing his beam within several spells that Wun did not have the ability or skill to discern. But he needed to stop.

“Now,” she ordered, quietly.

Chains dropped from the clouds above, suddenly wrapping around Seht’s neck. Seht, startled and confused, struck at them with his magic even as the griffons took hold of both ends—but his magic did nothing against the unicorn-forged metal. In his current state, he was too weak to break them, and in seconds the formation of griffons had wrapped the chains around him--and they began to pull with all their might.

Through the hum of magic and the screaming of griffons, Wun heard the sound of several whips cracking as what remained of the thestral forces emerged from the clouds, their whips of snake leather wrapping around Seht’s legs and torso. Seht struck out at the bands of leather, managing to damage a few—and that was Wun’s chance.

Wun focused all her force directly at Seht’s head. Distracted, Seht had no choice. His magic struck hers, merging and combining into a single beam linking their horns.

The darkness of the desert was instantly illuminated with the glow of crimson magic meeting mossy green, and Wun felt the energy of her magic flowing through her, arising from every ounce of her marrow and directed into her horn. There was no longer any need for spells. Their magic had been reduced to its purest form—and Seht had allowed himself to lose his one advantage.

Seht did his best to attack the griffons and thestrals holding him tight, but every tiny bit of magic he directed at them only resulted in the green of Wun’s magic drawing closer and closer to his head. So, ignoring it, he focused all his effort on Wun—and even then, with all the force holding him back, did not stop walking, his enormous body straining with each step but dragging the entirety of the force behind him forward as he forced his beam closer and closer to Wun.

Bits of liquid magic ejected from the merged beams, falling to the desert and melting through the sand. Wun was forced to her knees to keep herself from being pushed back. Her hearts were beating even faster. It was the first time in her life that a pony had brought her to her knees, and she felt an entirely new sense of rage at the humiliation of it—a rage that she so desperately enjoyed.   

“Come on, PULL!” screamed Gruff, his wings beating as he pulled on the end of the magic chains. “You pullet’s, PULL! PULL! May Celestia spank each and every one of your mothers, daily! HOURLY! PULL!”  

Wun barely heard him. Even through the spellbinding, Seht was performing spells. They were weak, but subtle—and she felt the force of his—her—mind probing her own.  

Except that nothing could break through. Not completely. The connection could not be forged. The rune that she had taken great pains to teach her little sister was part of her very soul, the imprint of her bloodline. Telepathy could not reach her mind, as it was utterly empty save for her greed and desire. The only things she knew that could keep her alive. The only things that truly mattered.

“Why...” whispered a voice, like a wave drifting over a seawall at high tide, an eddy current coming off her own horn. “You must yield...because I shall not...”

Wun opened her eyes. Her vision had grown gray. Her brain had already begun to overheat, and she could feel her horn beginning to physically buckle from the strain. If it cracked, she was sure it would shatter, and what that would do to her she had no idea—nor did she want to know.  

“My faith in my sister is absolute,” she said, softly.  

“You have faith in your own racial perfection. The racial perfection of unicorns. And yet I exist.”  

Wun forced more magic into her horn, and the spellbinding connection suddenly jumped—toward her. She was losing.

“Even if you succeed, I will simply regenerate,” said the voice in her thoughts. “Yield.”

“No.”

“I am more powerful.”

Wun smiled. “Such adorable ignorance.” She raised her voice, lifting her head to the cloud of griffons pulling on Seht, their strength already waning. “One million bits!” she cried. “To each griffon, if she stops walking!”

Seht’s body suddenly hitched, her neck pulled back by immense force. Looking over her shoulder, she saw an absolute frenzy of wings and screams. The griffons had redoubled their efforts, and even retripled them. They pulled with greater force than if their own lives were on the line, than if their families and little griffon kittens were in danger—they pulled as if there was an opportunity for pure, unalloyed GOLD.  

Seht took a step forward, resisting the immense force but only barely. Wun did what she could, but his red magic was drawing even closer to the tip of her horn. If it reached it, she would surely fail.

She shifted her weight, producing her rifle, the number eighty-nine compressed spell already loaded in the chamber—and awkwardly, with her hooves, she pointed it at Seht’s chest.

“No,” said the voice at the periphery of her mind, suddenly sounding desperate. “The griffons, the thestrals behind me...they are in the line of fire...”

Wun’s smile grew, revealing her pointed teeth. “And you do not have the magic to shield them all, do you?”  

Wun struggled to reach the rifle’s trigger with her hoof, and Seht sighed, no longer able to contain the sobs of pain and despair that wracked her soul. She stopped moving, her skin collapsing away as she used the last of her magic to shield the griffons and thestrals behind her.  

“NOW!” screamed Gruff.

Several of the griffons pivoted, pulling suddenly and with tremendous force—not on Seht’s chains, but at a set buried beneath the sand. Two stone blocks suddenly rose from the red-tinged soil, one on either side of Seht, pulled upward from where they had been buried on their sides.

From the darkened sky overhead, Daring Do dropped to the ground, plunging her was-staff into its location behind the left stone—and Caballeron, carried by his one-eyed henchhen, dropped to the opposite side, inserting his half into the symmetrical location.

The sand erupted with light, the buried strips of metal that formed the runes of the spell igniting with white light. A spell that Seht now stood in the center off, in the inscribed spells and between the two halves of her sarcophagus.

Seht’s head slowly turned, her mechanical eyes focused on Daring Do, and the light behind her helmet grew for a strike of magic—but Daring Do did not hesitate. She looked to the notebook she held, where the spell had been copied phonetically from the marks inscribed in the walls of Seht’s very tomb.

She called out the spell, pronouncing strange words in an ancient language that had never been intended for the vocal organs of a pony—words that even Seht did not know the true meaning of.

“Warn’enthdath phlgath’th vortain’nekg, p’thal’flath anaen!”

Caballeron responded, his voice booming but terrifying, with the other half of the spell. “Del’enthadath’n phlgath’sh darain’keg, f’thal’nara anaen!”

Seht tried to use her magic, but as she did the runes of the sarcophagus halves ignited and the space between them surrounded her, the air distorting as it became luminescent, motivated by a magnetic field that formed a bubble between the halves. The spellbinding to Wun snapped, sending Wun to the ground and knocking Seht back, her spell rebounding harmlessly off the bubble that now contained her.  

Daring Do felt the feedback from the was-staff flowing back into herself, and she was thrown backward off the spell. She landed hard, confused and disorientated, but immediately forced herself to stand. She ran to her sister’s side.

Wun was lying in the sand, her horn smoking and her eyes open—although she was not moving.

“Medic! MEDIC!”

A griffon medic landed beside Wun and immediately began to administer the only medication that griffons ever used. That is, she began slapping Wun’s face relentlessly and with significant force.

At first, nothing happened—and then the griffon’s claw was caught in green magic.

“Stop that,” muttered Wun. “I am starting to enjoy it.”  

“Wun!”

Daring hugged her sister, finding her cold and sweaty—but Wun still hugged back, weakly.

“My faith was not misplaced.” Wun smiled. “And neither is my pride.” 

Daring Do laughed, and then looked over at Caballeron. He was shaking, although apparently out of fear rather than of any particular damage. 

“I’m...I’m alive?”

“Of course you are alive,” said Seht, causing everypony and everygriff present to jump. Daring Do looked to where she was trapped, still contained in the magnetic bubble—but still standing, and still alert. “The containment spell is not harmful. Your health and duration may even have been increased.”

“So you can talk,” said Wun, standing. “And you really are a mare.”

“Yes. This disappointments you.”  

“Not at all. There are spells that can adjust for that quite readily.”

“There are. And I have made liberal use of them in my lives. Although I assure you. In both male and female forms, this body is utterly sterile.”  

Daring Do approached the containment bubble, as did the thestrals. The griffons did not, as they were too busy cheering and slapping each other out of happiness that they were all now extravagantly wealthy.  

Seht’s eyes, though, focused only on Daring Do. “These are the pieces of my containment vessel. They were intended to preserve me. Across time. But now they stabilize my body in this spot. This is not what they were designed for. Yet this use is inspired.” She looked up at Wun. “Although with a caveat. I cannot exert my will outside this cell...but likewise, no will can be exerted upon me.”  

“Then can you...can you take the mask off?”

Seht looked down at Daring Do. “It is surgically grafted to my spine. So no. Or if you mean to lower the blast shield? Also no.”

“Why?”

“Because I do not wish to.”  

“Let her hide,” said Caballeron, who was now helping to brace Wun, her role as his high-paying employer now restored. “What she does in there is her own concern.” He smiled. “After all, she cannot reach us out here any longer.”

Seht’s head shifted suddenly toward him. “Can’t I? Do you think I do not know you, Pontracio Caballeron?”

Caballeron shivered at the sound of his own name pronounced in such a strange, cold voice.  

“You know nothing.”

“I know your lies. As should they. I do not even need telepathy to see. Your bearing. The way you stand, the way you speak. That you are of noble birth.”

Daring Do frowned, then turned to Caballeron. “You said you grew up on a farm.”

Caballeron’s expression grew dark. “I did. She is lying.”

“I would trust little of what he says. He dwells in untruth. As to be expected, from a pony who gained his mark by looting his own family’s crypt.”  

Caballeron became pale, and Daring Do felt sick.  

“Stop it,” she said.

“Daring, it isn’t true--”

Daring stepped away from Caballeron, “I don’t want to know--”

“Because for you, Daring Do of Line Perr-Synt, lack the strength to reject comfort. The strength, and the will. And that is your greatest fear. To languish in luxury, powerful, and important. All the while hating your life. Or a life of adventure where you will be forgotten and irrelevant—and forever unloved.”  

Daring Do took a step back. “Why—why would you say that?”

“Simply resist it,” said Wun, dismissively.

Seht turned to her. “You. I do not understand you. This emptiness. This singlemindedness. No fear. No love. There is nothing I can say to hurt you. Nothing in this world has meaning to you. Only the joy of obtaining more.” Seht paused. “Is...this what unicorns have become in my absence?”

“Yes,” said Wun. “I am perfection.”

Seht turned back to Daring Do. “Then she, as he, speaks only lies to you, Daring Do. She is nearly as much a failure as I have been.”

The thestrals came closer. More had emerged from the darkness and the shadows of rocks. Those who had stayed behind, being too old or sick to have fought before. Now, though, they felt safe.

The oldest among them stepped forward. Wisdom, his eyes not breaking from the sight of Seht’s gaze, spoke slowly.

“Do not speak to it,” he said. “It is trained to deceive. To spread discord among us, to utilize our fear for its own goals, to force us to release it. Do not listen!”

Seht turned toward him. “You are the Avatar of Wisdom in this age,” she said. “And yet you bear no trace of our Line. Your role has become decadent. Which explains the state of this land.”  

Above her, the dust storms had begun to clear. The sun was at the far edge of the horizon now, and in the red light of a glorious sunset Daring Do could see just how close they were to the Iron Pyramid. It was distant, but they had stopped Seht within sight of her home. She started to shake at the thought of how close they had come.  

“I will not fall prey to your tricks, evil one,” said Wisdom.  

“There are no tricks. Only sadness.”

Daring Do looked up at her. “I don’t understand.”

“It is a liar,” snapped Wisdom. “Do not address it!”

“The knowledge we gave you was meant to be deployed. Utilized. To carry on what we began. And yet your ancestors feared it. Perhaps they coveted it. Imagining the power it would bring. And it became contained. Sequestered, and lost.”

“They sealed you,” said Daring Do.

Seht stared at her, and then at Wisdom. “Is that what they told you? Is that the secret you keep?”

“Silence! SILENCE!”

“Because you cannot accept the truth.” The thestrals had drawn near and, though afraid, watched with rapt attention. “That your kind wept when we chose to sleep. That we departed by choice. To await a cure. Until one would return to wake us.”

“You enslaved our race,” said one of the thestrals. Honor, stepping forward.  

“Because your minds are not adequately evolved to know that freedom and slavery are the same thing. Through our power we created food. Medicine. Light. Purpose. But the iron-star no longer burns.”

“We were placed here by our ancestors, to contain you--”

“No. That is what you have been told. By a line of deceivers terrified of their own failure.”

Honor slowly turned to Wisdom. “I don’t...I don’t understand.”

“Honor. Do not listen--”

Seht’s horn ignited, and the entire group jumped back. Instead of striking at her cage, though, she reached into what little sand was available to her and lifted it from the ground, assembling it into a block. As her magic compressed it and gave it form, Daring Do gasped, because she recognized it.

It was a copy of the bas relief in the ruined thestral city—except that the parts that had been scratched away were once again present. Daring Do stepped forward, staring at the sandstone.

Much of it was the same. Identical, even. Of work done at the base of the pyramid representing their society, performed by the zebra-like ponies—and above them stood the thestrals. Among them now stood priests clad in dark iron and robes, holding offerings up to their masters—and Daring Do realized that the soldiers were not raising their spears in a sign of aggression. They were saluting.  

“You were our warriors. Our servants. Our allies and friends, and those born of us our priests. Those worthy to speak. Whose minds could survive contact. The day we chose to sleep, your entire race wept in sadness. You begged us to remain.” She paused, suppressing a sound from behind her mask.  

“I raised them like my own," she continued. "The Avatar of Wisdom and his mate, the Avatar of Knowledge. As if I were their mother. So you can imagine my sadness. When I awoke to find that, by choice, they never left our side.”  

Daring Do’s eyes turned to the was-staffs, recalling the skeletons they had stood beside.  

“They...”

“Were meant to rule a verdant empire. To use what we gave you to expand. To grow.” Seht gestured upward at the cliffs, and her copy of the bas relief collapsed into dust. “But you have failed. And I weep for what you have lost.”  

Honor shook his head, and then turned back to Wisdom. “Is...”

“No,” snapped Wisdom, himself shaking. “What I speak is the truth! Passed down from Wisdom to Wisdom for fifty centuries--”

“An oral tradition,” said Daring Do. “It...it might have changed.”

Wisdom stared at her, on the verge of tears, and to her horror she realized that it had not changed at all. That he had always known—but by the time he had accepted the knowledge, it was already far too late.  

“Boring and irrelevant,” said Wun, dismissing Wisdom. “Traditions are pointless things. What matters is that we have captured her.”

“Yes,” said Seht. “You have captured the weakest of us.”

Daring Do faced her. Her smile shifted to an expression of amusement.  “You aren’t a soldier, are you?”

“No. I am...was….” Seht paused, regaining her composure, “...a Codex Interface. There is no equivalent in your world. The closest word is ‘librarian’.”  

“And you sought out the nearest source of knowledge.” Daring Do moved so close to the containment failed that she could feel the wind through her mane. “Even though it would make you vulnerable, you found the nearest library. So you could understand the world you woke up in...”

“This series of body is notoriously unstable. I cannot exist far from the Codex for long.”

“But...you risked it anyway.”

“Telepathic convergence was not possible. It would have caused irreparable harm. It is strange to speak. To not have to select the worthy. Those who can survive communication. It is unfamiliar to me.”  

“You were confused and trying to communicate...”

“Again,” said Wun, approaching Daring Do’s side, “Irrelevant and very, horribly boring. Griffons! Stop licking each other or whatever it is you do, we need to move the camp! The Pyramid is secondary! I have planning to do.”

“You heard her!” shouted Gruff, slapping another griffon in the back of the head so hard he toppled over. “Come on, you sack of pullets, get the camp set up and it’s triple-portions of nip tonight! Unless you’re slow, then your mothers are all apple trees!”

“Apple trees?” asked Caballeron’s henchhen.

“Because they get BUCKED by a dirty PONY! Now WORK!” He pulled a thestral whip away from a thestral and began to snap it wildly against various griffon flanks, motivating them to work even faster.  

Daring Do watched them mobilize, and watched the thestrals looking at each other, confused but relieved. She wished she could feel as relieved—but somehow, she did not. They had captured Seht, but it felt wrong.  

Her questions had still not been answered, and she still felt deep suspicion in her gut. The puzzle was still not complete.
> Chapter 21: A Glorious Victory
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The camp was rapidly transitioned to the new area and was fully assembled by nightfall. The majority of the archaeologists remained at the Pyramid, where they would work, but many had also come to witness the creature that Wun and Daring had captured. Not one of them addressed her, as they were all too afraid to draw close. There were only a few unicorns on the team, and not one of them even came to visit the new camp. They stayed far away, on the other side of the Pyramid. They were terrified on an instinctual level and did not know why.

The new camp was hastily constructed, and although orderly it was infinity more lively. Most of the griffons were rejoicing, many of them with their pupils wide and rolling and purring in piles of dried leaves while thestrals looked on laughing. With the tension broken between them, many of the thestrals had come out of hiding and, though subdued and weak, they at least stood in proximity to the foreigners in their presence—and, like the unicorns but to a lesser extent, invariably stayed away from Seht. They did not like her, or rather what she represented. Word was spreading quickly of what she had said, and the thestrals chose to reject it. After all, she was surely a liar, a dark oppressor-god now contained in powerful magic.  

One tent close to the area housed Wun, the only unicorn who dared draw close, and Daring made her way through the dark to that particular tent. On the way, she was sure that she saw Honor in the arms of a young griffon, the latter with his eyes wide from excessive nip as he purred violently.  

Entering the tent, Daring found her sister beside Caballeron, standing over a table. Geiger, the griffon logistician, was present. Dignity and Wisdom were also present.

“...yes, yes,” said Caballeron, smiling. “Indeed, your sister and I came to the exact same conclusion. I simply did first, when she was already engaged in battle, and came here to organize the extraction of the sarcophagus components. It was lucky she joined me when she did...is that not right, Geiger?”

The griffon smiled to the extent that a creature with a beak could smile—and it was a hollow, fake smile. The kind of someone who had recently gotten paid.

“Of course, sir.”  

“And I had thought you were a coward,” mused Wun. Obviously she knew, but did not care because the outcome was the same regardless. Her head swiveled rapidly. “Daring, there you are. Thank you for assisting my little linguist in ameliorating this threat. You were indispensable. Father will be overjoyed to hear this story.”

Caballeron looked at Daring Do, smiling, although his brow was furrowed, wondering if she would challenge his account. Daring hated that look, and her dislike for him was only growing—and the fact that he was so handsome only made that feeling worse. But at this point, she did not care.  

“We did what we had to.”

“For now,” said Dignity. “We have done well but this is not yet over.”

“What she says is true.” Wisdom stepped to the table, which held numerous maps and Geiger’s scratch-pad of calculations. It was apparent that Wisdom truly was the only member of his society that could read. “The question is what to do with it. I have a thought...but...”

“No,” said Dignity. “We are still ponies. We cannot destroy a life, even hers. Such a sacrifice is unforgivable.”  

“Agreed,” sighed Wisdom. “Nor do I think we have a mechanism to do so. The ancestors could only contain them. Even our greatest weapons had no effect--”

“Because they weren’t yours,” said Daring Do. The room fell silent and they turned to her. She did not back down. “They were hers. The dark unicorns made them. That’s why she could turn off the armor.”

“Where our ancestors acquired them is not relevant. Because we may very well never need them again. We can return to our peaceful life soon enough, now that the threat is identified.” He looked to Wun. “Assuming it can be removed?”

Wun nodded, and turned to Geiger. “Can she be moved?”

Geiger looked at his charts. “If we can bring a cloudbreaker, yes, because we will need a heavy transport to get through. We can construct a frame to move the assembly, but it will take time. And we still have to account for the fact that she likely needs to eat, sleep, and...well...it would be cruel.”

“Cruelty is a concept devised by the weak to justify their whining,” snapped Wun.  

“We cannot leave it here,” said Wisdom. “As long as it is conscious, we are in danger.”  

“There is an alternative,” said Wun, smiling. “There exists a type of spell that can petrify a pony as a form of inert material. Stone, so to speak.”

“Can you cast such a spell?” asked Caballeron.

“No,” said Wun. “But I can always pay for somepony else to cast it. If she were rendered as stone, we could transport her as-is without the sarcophagus and maintain her until this Codex she spoke of can be recovered.”

“You want her as a statue?” asked Daring Do.

“No. That would be foolish. She will be alive. I will have a special room assembled to contain her. She will have a little bed, and a desk, and we shall feed her. And there shall be windows so I might view her.”

“As a pet.”

Wun’s head turned slowly. “As a guest, Daring. She is the very last of her kind, a being of incredible rarity. I feel a sense of kinship, I suppose, but I simply cannot allow this opportunity to pass me.”

“And the others?” asked Wisdom. "The rest of those foul beasts?"

Wun’s head turned back to him. “Will be collected, of course, and removed. Your ancient threat will be entirely extracted from the Pyramid, and the archeologists will finish their investigation at their leisure.”

“It will be a relief,” sighed Wisdom.

“If we can assume unicorn magic can, in fact, contain her,” said Dignity, staring at Wun.  

“It is better than your current abilities,” replied Wun, smiling. “You could not stop her, or even slow her down. You only did so with my help. And your society will be fully extinct by the time I have my first gray hair, so I would not put much faith in your containing her for much longer." 

“Do not insult us, unicorn--”

“She is not wrong,” admitted Wisdom.  

“Wisdom...”

“If there’s a wizard being shipped in, we need to discuss logistics,” said Geiger. “We need to set up a contract for the perimeter defense group...”

“Of course,” said Wun. She looked over her shoulder. “Daring, this is the part you rather detest. Is there anything specific you wanted?”

Daring looked up at her sister, who seemed so happy but so strange in the pale light of the large tent. “Can I borrow your necklace?”

Caballeron nearly snorted. “You cannot just ask to borrow such a thing of value--”

Wun pulled the necklace from her neck and threw it to Daring Do. Daring caught it, immediately regretting touching it. It felt strange and grotesque. Warm, somehow, but at the same time so deathly cold. She could not believe that Wun had worn such a thing against her bare skin for so long. “Of course, dear sister.”

“Thanks.”

Daring Do put the large gemstone in her pocket, gave one last glare at Caballeron, and then left into the night.



Few ponies or griffons had bothered to approach the center of the camp, where Seht was held—and that was exactly where Daring Do went. She was expecting silence, but as she drew nearer, she heard speaking. One voice, a mechanically distorted one, belonged to Seht. The other was high and squeaky.  

“And, and what did you eat?”

“A great many things. My favorite was cheese made from the milk of the greater centipedes. Eaten with the Singing Fruit, sliced but sometimes grated.”

“Why was it called Singing Fruit?” A high gasp. “Did it SING?”

“It did. A beautiful, happy song when it was ripe. When it became overripe, the song got so very somber.” A sigh. “But both that fruit and the centipedes are extinct now. I will never again taste them.”  

“Oh.”

Daring Do peeked around one of the tents to see Curiosity sitting on the sand in front of Seht. She was the only one who had dared to get close, and she was staring wide-eyed at the massive masked pony trapped between the two magical blocks.

“And where did you come from?”

“Not just where I came from. Your kind came from the same place. We brought you here. There is no word for it in our language. It was called the Darklands in yours.”  

“Wow, and where was that? Was it far away?”

“Very far away. South. But before that, we do not know.”

“Before? Where were you before?”

“As I said. That is unknown.”

“How?”

“Because those memories are too deep in the Codex. No mortal can survive accessing them. They are too far. Even Odin, the greatest of us, could not see any more than the word ‘Monoceron’. Doing so nearly slew him.”  

“Then that must be where you’re from!”

“Perhaps.”

Daring Do approached, and Curiosity jumped up. “Miss Daring! You came to visit!”

“You’re...talking?”

Seht’s mechanical eyes shifted to Daring Do. “There is little else I can do. But I like talking. Telepathy is lonely. It always was. I am glad to speak to those who wish to hear.”  

“Lady Seht says we used to be a priesthood! And there was a big city around here, all up in the mountains, with a big pyramid right in the middle! And there were plants, and they were so pretty, but they weren’t green because of rhod-op-sin! And some of the fruit could SING!”

“And you believe her?”

Curiosity frowned. “Of course I do. She knows everything, and she’s not scary like your big sister.” She looked around. “Don’t tell her that, though, Lady Wun made me a nice sweater, and I never had clothes before then because we don’t know how to make textiles. So some of us lose our wings during the winter because they freeze off. But mine won’t now!”  

Daring sighed. “Curiosity, is it okay if I talk to Seht?”

“Don’t ask me, ask her!”

“Of course it is,” replied Seht. “The Codex demands I never sleep. And your sky...” She looked up, as did Daring, and saw a galaxy of stars painted across the black, centered around a moon with craters in the shape of a pony’s face in profile. “...it makes me sad. And afraid. To see that even that has changed while I slept.”  

“Lady Seht said that if I use special words, I can make the armor fight without a pony even in it at all! So I’m going to go do that! I don’t sleep either because that’s when the rats eat little pieces of us, so if you need me, I’ll be over there learning new things and being awesome!”

Curiosity bounded off.

“I remember her eyes,” said Seht, after a long pause. “A dear friend of mine had the same eyes, long ago. I suppose she might be his descendant.” She sighed. “And I suppose I will never see him again. I had known that when I went to sleep. I had not fully grasped the sorrow it would bring me when I awoke.”  

Daring Do watched Curiosity go. “Do you have a name?”

Seht paused. “If I ever did, it is of no consequence. Seht is adequate.”

“So it’s like a House?”

Seht paused again. “No. Seht is a pony. I am Seht now. But I was not always Seht. Seht was not always me. But you may think of it as a House or Line if you wish.” 

Daring Do sat down in the sand where Curiosity had been sitting. The desert night was cold, and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” she asked. 

“Does it matter?”

Daring frowned. “Of course it does.”

“Then no. This body does not feel hot or cold. Those nerve endings corroded long ago.”

“So then this isn’t your first body, is it?”

Seht sighed. “You ask so much harder questions than the child. Things that were simple then are so complicated now.”

“I’m just curious. Like her.” She looked at where Curiosity had gone. “Not as energetic, I guess...but...”

“Yes. I understand.”

“You do?”

“Your mind was closest to being worthy. I saw part of you. You saw part of me. Nearly proper communications, as I once used in simpler times. To you, I am an artifact which talks.”

“No, you’re a pony--”

“No. I am not. Not to you, and not even now. So long as I wear this mask, your mind will be able to justify your decisions. This is your role. To collect me.”  

Daring Do sighed, almost mimicking the breathy sounds of sadness that constantly escaped Seht. “I’ve spent my whole life living in a giant mansion, hearing about the whole world and everything that ever happened in it. About all the amazing things my father had seen when he was young.”

“And yet all you ever do is follow your sister, who would rather put the products of that world on a shelf and dwell in the stories. That is the life you have chosen to live.”

“I never made that choice.”

“Then perhaps you have time.”

Daring looked up. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of evil, dark pharaoh? And you’re giving me life advice?”   

“I have the combined memories of thousands of incarnations of Seht compressed into my mind. And I resent that you consider me evil. I am not.”

“Then what are you.”

“I am Seht.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I am a Codex Interface. I hold the right of direct administrative access to the Codex. It requires specific genetic markers and magical parameters to be able to withstand the synchronization.”

“You said ‘librarian’.”

“Or ‘library’. Both words are equally appropriate.”

Daring Do nodded. “You came from the south. Why?”

Seht tilted her head slightly, amused by the question. “The destruction of early technology left a power vacuum to the north. We were colonists.”

“I’m familiar with history. That word, in our language, tends to mean ‘conqueror’.”  

“There was nothing to conquer. Earth ponies had barely discovered the wooden plow, and the other races of unicorns lived in isolation. They were considered a myth. Your own kind were primitive tribals. This land was not heavily inhabited. Duat was placed south to the kingdom of the sphinxes. They are now extinct too. They were beloved to Baset, but unfriendly. Unfriendly and weak.”  

“Duat?”

Seht pointed toward the pyramid, a spire of black in the distance against the moonlit desert. “Duat.”  

Daring Do nodded, although she did not quite understand how something that large made of solid iron had gotten this far. She got the impression it was not made here, but in the Darklands, but how it had moved was beyond her. She supposed by magic.  

“But something happened,” she said, softly. She looked up at Seht. “You were in a sarcophagus. And there were only eight others.”  

Seht once again did not respond.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine--”

“No. I am trying to think of a way to phrase it. How hard it is to explain the fall of a civilization in so few words. To convey the sadness. The profundity of the loss.”

“What happened?”

“One day, the sun rose.”  

Daring Do frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“The world underwent vast climatic change. Entire phyla became extinct in a matter of months. The ecological order of the world was torn asunder.”  

“And you couldn’t adapt.”

“We tried. In Duat, we were far enough that the sun was still dim here. We built armor, enclosed ourselves away. In other colonies, they did other things. Asgard, Olympus, Dingir, they all chose their paths.” She paused. “But it was not enough. An unknown pathogen began to circulate through our population. Before we fully understood it, we were all infected. And it rendered each of us sterile.”  

“That’s...it?”

Seht’s head turned suddenly. “ ‘It’. How dismissive. To live in a world with no foals. To stare at your friends and family, to watch them wither and age, to know that there will be no more after them. To watch time strangle your civilization. Can you comprehend such a thing, Daring Do? The sadness of it?”

Daring Do looked at the ground. “No. I can’t.”

“I can. Because I was there.” She looked out at the Pyramid. “We were farther, infected later. The colonies were transitioned to research stations. To use the resources available in Equestria to create a cure.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. But at Duat, we found ways that we could vastly extend the age of an existing pony.” She paused. “But every time we tried to make a new one...we failed. The results were monstrous.”

Daring Do shivered, recalling the room of strange and mutated bones. Some that had clearly not been pureblood dark unicorns. “How old are you?”

“I no longer recall. But as the Codex Interface, I am a unique case.”  

“You were sealed for over six thousand years. Why?" Daring paused, thinking. "Were...you waiting for a cure?”

“We lasted longer than the other colonies. Far longer. But we lost contact with the Darklands. We believed ourselves to be the last. Our lifespans, though extended, were not infinite. So, yes. We designed a system to sustain us in a sub-living state. I call it sleep. Otherwise, I would be driven mad by the implications of it.”

“We woke you up.”

“Which was not the plan."

"We woke you up too early."
"No. Far too late. We were supposed to only be dormant for a century or two. The thestrals would take control of our colony. The pathogen did not affect them, or the quagga. We assumed—hoped—that a unicorn somewhere would devise the cure. Or even the thestrals when they inevitably became advanced enough.”

“There’s still time! We still have magic, and a lot of it. There are all sorts of wizards and sorcerers in Canterlot. We even have alicorns now!” Daring Do stood up. “We can still find a cure—”

“No. I have reviewed your existing knowledge concerning magic. It is now even more primitive than when my ancestors first encountered the other unicorn races. No advancement has been made, and so much has been lost. Magic is dying in the world, as technology did before it. The world has simply moved on, and the dark unicorns no longer have a place in it.”  

“Well, aren’t you a pessimist.”

“Daring. My entire civilization is gone. I think I have the right to feel sad.”   

“Oh.” Daring took a step back. “Sorry.”  

“It is not a problem. But...thank you for listening. I could not say such things to the child. She is so innocent and squeaky. But you, perhaps, can remain to comprehend my words. Depending on the path you choose, that burden may fall on you many more times subsequent. To have listened. To have known  what others refused to hear.”  

Daring Do was silent for a moment. “The others. Your friends. Can they wake up too?”

“The process was successful in several five-year tests. We have exceeded that by several orders of magnitude. In theory, yes. Although their coils were in poor condition. Cellular integrity should not matter though. However, I noticed that their phylacteries were missing. I had assumed the thestrals had taken them for safekeeping.”  

Daring Do froze. Her whole body felt cold.  

“Phylacteries?”

“They would resemble large octahedral crystals. They were intended to preserve our souls so they would be protected from the degradation of our bodies over time.”  

Daring Do, shaking, took a deep breath and reached into her pocket. She produced Wun’s cut gem, the chain still attached to it.  

When Seht saw it, she recoiled in horror, taking a step back. As she did, the surface of her mask changed, the invisible seams between its components separating. It folded back on itself, shell after shell retracting by unseen mechanisms until it had apparently vanished into a draped collar. Daring Do was surprised to see her face. Despite her size, she was young, or at least looked it. Her mane was enormous and silky black, and her horn was red and bladed. Her snout was plated with something that looked like metal.  

It was her eyes, though, that terrified Daring Do the most. Not because they irises were deep red, or how the schlera had a strange greenish cast—but because they were so wide with Seht’s own horror. And Daring Do understood. Without the mask, it was no longer possible for her mind to think of her as a faceless monster. She was a pony.

“What—what have you done?” she said, softly, her eyes locked on the gemstone.  

“They were looted thousands of years ago. Ponies thought they were jewels, they...they...” She did not need to finish the statement. Seht’s legs shook, and she crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her face.  

“Seht?”

“He had a name.”  

Daring Do felt her whole body starting to shake. She hated holding it, the feeling of warmth and coldness at once against her hoof—as if it were alive. Or as if it still remembered a time when it had been.  

Seht continued. “He was Sobek. Of all of them, you had to bring me him.”

“You...knew him.”

Seht looked up, her red eyes meeting Darning Do’s. “I loved him.”

Daring Do felt herself on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry...”

Seht, shaking, looked down at the sand. “I...I loved him, but I never told him. I had convinced myself it was unfair. That when we awoke and the plague over, I would tell him then. But now...” She lowered her head against the sand, quietly covering it with her hooves. “Now I will never have the chance.”  

Daring Do looked at the stone, at the glow that came from it. “We might still be able--”

“Do you have any comprehension of what you have done?!” screamed Seht, suddenly lifting her head. “You cut down their very souls! Tore them apart, ripped them to tatters to make JEWELRY! Can you not comprehend the eternal agony of it?! To exist forever unwhole and broken?!”

“There has to be some way to fix it, we have to--”

“There is nothing that can be done! It cannot be reversed! My friends—my friends are all—”

She lowered her head and began to uncontrollably sob.  

“Seht--”

“I had been able to withstand it,” she said through her tears. “That when I awoke cold and alone. When your kind attacked me unprovoked. I withstood this unfamiliar and alien world, and I accepted that my civilization and everything we created and everything we loved was gone now. That everything had failed. I withstood that in your society I am property, meant to be bought and sold and bred at the behest of my owners. But I held out hope that I would not be alone...but now I am. Now I am the last.” She lifted her head slightly. “Is...is the only reason I am here because of a fleck of oxidation? Because my stone’s release mechanism jammed? Why could I not be taken with them, so I would not have to wake into this world of cruelty?”

“We didn’t know!”

Seht looked up. Not angry, but utterly defeated. Somehow, that was worse. “Nor did you make the cuts, ignoring their screams. And yet I am still alone.” She stood, and something about her aspect changed. Her eyes seemed to grow darker, and all the sorrow on her face seemed to leave her. The mask began to extend from her collar, resuming its place around her face.  

“I suppose,” she said, her voice once again mechanical and distorted. “That none of this was your fault, specifically.”

Daring Do looked down at the carved gemstone in her hoof. “No,” she said. “But this is wrong. This is all wrong.”

“As I have said. There is nothing you can do.”

“Not to save your friends. But I can make sure it never happens again.”  

“Then leave this place. Because I have one task remaining assigned to me. And I do not know if I have the heart to accomplish it.”  

“What?”

Seht said nothing. She stood stationary and silent. The conversation had ended.
> Chapter 22: Wun, Unclothed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daring wandered through the darkness of the camp. She did not feel anything at all, except a dull and unfamiliar shock. Like the malaise of sickness, but with no sense of illness. An unreality, and a confusion. She did not know how to make it go away, because she feared that if she thought too hard about it she might break down then and there.  

She found herself at the front of Wun’s tent. She was not sure how long she had wandered, because time seemed to have lost meaning. She had not seen another pony or griffon for some time, and the lights through the tent’s small netted windows had gone out.  

Daring Do looked down at her shirt, and she saw the glow of the stone in her pocket. Or, rather, the weakened and failing glow of the fragments of what it had once contained. Then she found herself entering the tent.  

The inside was dark, and Daring had to squint to see.  

“Wun?”

She made her way to the back of the tent and pulled away a partition. By this time, her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and for a moment she looked down at the moving blankets on the floor, not entirely sure what she was seeing. Then she suddenly understood and cried out in surprise and disgust.

Wun and Caballeron both sat up from the bed, the latter letting out a girlish squeal as he grasped the blankets to cover his nakedness. Wun, however, simply let the blankets fall. She did not care in the slightest if anyone saw her genetically perfect body unclothed.  

“Wun—how—how could you--”

Wun cocked her head, smiling. “I may be a largely carnivorous mare with absolutly no capacity for empathy, but I still have needs, Daring. And that need, in this context, is snuggles. Look at him, he is adorable.” She levitated Caballeron, who cried out again, trying to cover himself with his hooves—even though, as a pony, he had nothing at all to cover.  

“If you like, ” said Wun, her smile growing, “I can pay for a griffon to snuggle you. Or I can pay substantially less for a thestral to do so, if you do not mind the smell. ”  

Wun set Caballeron down and stood up. Daring Do shielded her eyes and looked away.

“Daring. We are ponies. We do not generally wear clothing, as we have no external anatomy in need of covering.”

Daring stared at Caballeron, not sure why she wanted to cry, and he averted his eyes.  

“And HIM--”

“There is something appealing to being held by a big, strong earthie-boy. They are so sturdy, and yet so utterly helpless. Born dying while I am eternal. And he did save my life, which endears me to him.  She smiled even wider. “And if you had wanted him, you should have taken your chance.” Wun cast a ball of light that quickly popped from her horn and floated to a glass lantern in the center of the tent. She, in all her mossy-green glory, then passed to a small stand and poured some water from a pitcher. “And as prudish as you are about two ponies aggressively hugging, I cannot imagine you came to join as a third, which is unfortunate. Why are you here, Daring?”   

“And why you don’t ever seem to knock?” snapped Caballeron. He was not reaching for his clothing at all, just holding blankets against himself. Clearly he was expecting more cuddling once Daring left. And perhaps a pay increase for doing so.  

“I talked to Seht.”

“Did you,” said Wun, sipping her water, seeming mildly amused. “Did you convince her to become male so I can finally be held by pony who is not my genetic inferior and has at least some basic knowledge of how to properly  stroke a mane sensually?”  

Caballeron turned away, weathering the insult for the sake of his pay. It was a situation that Wun seemed to take endless amusement in.  

“This,” said Daring, holding up the necklace. “She told me that this...that the revenite...this was a phylactery. That these were...were their souls...”

Even Caballeron grew pale. Wun, though, set down her water and crossed the room, lowering her head to stare at the necklace. Then her eyes flitted to Daring Do.

“Of course they are. I had assumed you knew that already.”  

Daring Do felt her eyes widen, and wondered if she was somehow dreaming. There was no way the way she felt in that moment could be a possible, reasonable thing that a pony could experience.  

“You...you knew?”

“Yes. Obviously. Hence ‘revenite’, from the root ‘revenir’, to return.” She pointed at the cut gem that Daring Do was holding. “And that one is special. It was the first and only specimen, until now, that had been recovered whole.”  

Daring Do felt sick. She wanted to turn and run, but instead looked down to what had once been a pony named Sobek, whose bones now lay permanently inert on the floor of crypt where he had gone to sleep expecting to be reunited with his friends and a pony who would surely declare her love for him. “No...no...you didn’t….”

“Myself, no. It was our father’s decision. To attempt to access the information stored within the crystal. The mind, you might say, although that is not truly correct.” Wun smiled softly. “How did you think we knew this pyramid was here, Daring? Did you not question why we came here specifically to find more revenite?”  

“I...no...no, that’s not right. There’s no way--”

Wun sighed. “Unfortunately, the process is imperfect. When the gem is occupied, damage occurs to the soul within during the reading process. Or so the mages told us. Although I do not believe a soul can feel pain, because a soul represents a superior thing. Devoid of the limitations of the body, like pain or love. Although of course the extraction is severely traumatic regardless, I suppose. However...” She tapped the gem gently. “When the soul attempted to resist the memory extraction, the gem warped and eventually ruptured. So rather than waste it, I had it carved. I oversaw the carving process personally. To make it into something useful and pretty. It served no purpose otherwise.” She extended her hoof. “I will take it back now.”

Daring Do took a step back. “You knew he was a pony, you knew there was a soul in there—and you did it anyway?”

“Daring—”

“WUN!” Daring herself was crying now, although she was not sure why. She was feeling too many emotions at once. “Answer the question!”

Wun cocked her head, frowning. “I already did. Of course I knew. I even oversaw the cutting. It made such a pretty sound.”

Daring took another step back. “How could you?”

“Daring,” sighed Wun. “What you are experiencing now is simply teenage naivete. An excess of hormones. This is normal behavior at your age, but frowned upon. You are a daughter of House Perr-Synt. Ponies exist to serve us as we see fit. Their bodies, or their souls. You wanted to search for artifacts in the tomb, did you not? To go on an adventure? That stone is what allowed this to happen. And now we have so many valuable things in our possession to take home.”  

Daring Do stared at her sister, unable to form words. She looked to Caballeron, but he looked away. He was complacent in it so long as he got paid—but Daring had been worse, and she knew it. She had not done it for the money, and she had not asked any questions. She should have known. She was complacent not out of the thought of gain, but of pure, willful ignorance.  

She ran. Running out of the tent, retching the instant her hooves touched the red sand outside as tear ran down her face and into her mouth.  

“Daring,” she heard behind her. “Do not go. You are not being rational.”
> Chapter 23: Line of Sight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daring did not listen to her sister, and she ran. Through the empty camp, ignoring all sound she was making until she slid onto the ground and collapsed in front of Seht. The larger pony turned her mechanical eyes to face her, staring without emotion.	

“Daring Do. Why have you returned to me so soon?”

“Because I’m finally making a choice.” Daring stood up, running to the side of the assembly where one of the was-staffs connected to the spell assembled beneath the stand.   

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I can’t fix it, but I can still make it right!”

Daring grasped the staff in her teeth, ready to pull it out and deactivate the containment spell—but was stopped by something cold pressing against her neck.  

She stopped and turned her eyes slowly, her gaze tracing up the mottled red blade pressed against her neck to the pony that was holding it.  

“You will not,” said Honor.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I serve our traditions and nothing more. She must remained contained. I will do what I have to do to make sure the world remains safe.”	

“Can’t you see that this is wrong?”

“It is tradition--”

“Your name isn’t ‘tradition’, Honor! What’s the right thing to do?”

Honor’s hoof shook. “She is evil. She will destroy us. I have to protect us. Even you. Don’t make me do it. Please, Daring, I do not want to.”

“And you will not have to.”

Both Daring and Honor turned their eyes to see Wisdom and Dignity approaching, flanked by several griffons.

“Wisdom,” said Honor, not fully relieved.

“She has been deceived by the monster's lies. Her mind is too weak.”

A shadow appeared beside Daring Do, and before she could even react Dignity’s hoof was slammed into her back, in the space between her wings. The whole world seemed to flash with white brilliant light and Daring felt herself thrown to the ground, where she was kicked hard in the stomach. Then she felt pressure as one of her hooves was pulled behind her.

“Do not injure her excessively,” sighed Wun, appearing from between two tents, completely nude. Caballeron, behind her, had hastily put on his shirt but not his ascot. “I should have expected this,” she said, looming over Daring Do. “You cannot be a rational, sane pony. You are having trouble realizing that this is all terribly reasonable. Mundane, even. Taking you on this trip was a mistake. You are clearly quite unready to have left Singapone. And from this behavior, I doubt you ever will be. You do not have a reasonable perspective of how this business is meant to operate.”  

“Honor! This isn’t right and you know it!”

Honor looked at her, and then looked away, unsure what to do.

“Let her go!” cried a squeaky voice. Curiosity leapt toward Dignity, bearing her sharp teeth, and was promptly grasped in Wun’s magic and struck hard against one of the halves of Seht’s sarcophagus, enough to render her dazed as she was dropped to the ground. Wun picked her up again, bashing her against the stone a second time to render her fully unconscious. 

Honor clutched his blade, but several of the griffons raised their blunderbusses.  

“I will forgive my sister for attempting this theft. She is simply misguided, confused by her limited life experience. But if you filthy bats attempt to interfere with my business when I am this close? That I cannot tolerate.”  

Seht shifted in her sphere. The motion caught Wun’s eye, and their gazes met.

“You are precious to me,” said Wun. “The revenite has barely any value in comparison to the very last dark unicorn that will ever exist.”  

“In this world, only three ponies have shown me kindness,” said Seht, her voice cold. “Who treated me like a pony. And yet you abuse them. And, once again, hope has betrayed me. I was too optimistic.”  

Wun frowned. “What, exactly, does that mean, my beloved?”

“I do not belong in this world. My path is now clear. I cannot avoid my task.”

A light ignited behind Seht’s mask, where her horn was hidden. A small circular rune traced itself in the air, and began to blink in several places, forming a pattern.  

“What is it doing?” demanded Wisdom.

“It does not matter,” said Wun, smiling. “No magic she casts in the field can escape. She can do nothing.”

Caballeron’s brow furrowed as he looked to the flashing patterns of the rune, and as he turned in the opposite direction, toward where it was facing—toward the Pyramid.

His eyes widened. “But she still has line-of-sight!”

“What?”

“LINE-OF-SIGHT! She still has line-of-sight!”  

It was too late. Before anyone could interfere with the path, Duat’s forward sensor array had detected the distress beacon. Long-dead synapses fired in its synthetic brain. A creator was in danger.

The magical subsystems ignited, the exposed portions of the Pyramid igniting with brilliant red light. The internal crystal batteries engaged, and the machines within hummed to life as the hallways, dark for so many centuries, were suddenly lit with streams of scarlet.

Deep within the Pyramid, the red light reached several large tanks and their glass retracted, separating into squares and pulling away from the center. Black liquid gushed outward from them, spreading across the floors. Immediately it began to quiver, and then extended tendrils outward in every direction. These rapidly changed, merging to form arms and claws, bone and hooves. Mouths formed from the black fluid as it clawed its way forward blindly, and as soon as they had evolved vocal organs those mouths began to scream in agony—screams of agony that quickly became screams of rage as the rudiments of nervous systems formed behind them.  

The failed children of the dark unicorns raced forward, stretching themselves across the floor and sprinting toward where their mummified skeletons awaited them. They crawled back into their bodies, their protean bodies grasping their ancient bones along with fragments of metal and whatever they could reach.  

They were creatures without souls, and without volition. Only pain and hunger—and in their mind, the commands of Duat. To protect their creator, the memory of her mask seared into their memory from the earliest moments of their incomplete birth. When, for the briefest fraction of time, they might have hoped to been ponies. 




The ground shook as abominations pulled themselves up from the sand, their mummified skeletons dripping with black flesh and coated in fragments of dark iron. For a moment, they stood dazzled in the brilliant light of the stars, but in response their surfaces bubbled and ripped as they formed innumerable red-irides eyes. Then they began to runt.  

Even at a distance, their gait was horrifying. Some of them were little more than vast globular masses of bone and black fluid propelled by seemingly hundreds of pony legs beneath them, all sprinting at maximum speed, while others sprouted disproportionate arms and claws to sprint even faster. A few slithered, and a few moved like liquid, sending out tendrils to drag themselves forward—and as they drew nearer, Daring Do could hear the screaming arising from each and every one of them.  

Caballeron took a step back, his mouth open and quivering. “No—no! MONSTERS! Why are there always MONSTERS?!”

“Behold, Wun Perr-Synt,” said Seht, calmly. “The truth of your genetic perfection. The final form of our shared evolutionary path. The height to which we shall all in time ascend.”

Daring Do managed to throw Dignity off her back, just as something pulled its way through the sand, casting a long shadow over her in the moonlight. Something terrible stared down at her, its face made of numerous deformed skulls, their eye sockets filled with uncountable black teeth.  

The griffons opened fire, and the dark iron scrap the creature wore repositioning, forming a carapace as its flesh became dense and stone-like. Eyes formed on its surface, roving blindly across the desert, desperately searching as the creature's malformed mouths gibbered wildly. Then it saw Seht.  

It reached out a vast hoof to half the sarcophagus, and one black-skinned hoof became hundreds of arms. They reached down and grasped the stone, their muscles suddenly expanding tremendously in size as its black flesh was diverted from elsewhere in its body. Under their intense force, the stone half began to crack.

“You will not take what’s MINE!” Wun directed her horn at the creature and fired. The blast brought her to her knees, but the creature was knocked back. It took a step, and then formed new legs to support itself. Its body split down the center, revealing the skulls contained within it. They articulated on their necks, still coated in dry bandages but articulated by tendrils of black material. Each and every one of them held a twisted horn that ignited with red light.

“Oh buck me...”

Wun dodged just as the blast went off.  She had not been the target. The creature did not comprehend Wun’s presence. It only had one goal.

The half of the sarcophagus shattered and the thestrals were thrown back as the containment field broke. Seht stepped forward, casting a spell to draw the dew of the cold desert onto herself, winding it with gossamer magic until a pair of enormous locust wings appeared on her back. Before anypony could stop her, Seht spread her wings and, with a booming drone, lifted in the air, hovering for a moment before shooting off toward the Pyramid.  

Daring Do suddenly heard screams. Not the screams of monsters, but of ponies. In the chaos, she thought that another abomination had reached their camp—but the truth was far worse. Through the tents, she saw thestrals fleeing, and in pursuit of them their own cursed armor, now covered in glowing red runes. Those who had taken it off were now pursued by it, while those unfortunate enough to have been still wearing it were now trapped within, compelled to attack their friends and families against their will.  

“We have to stop her!” cried Caballeron, who by this time was cowering behind Dignity.

The creatures, though, changed their behavior. Now that their master was free, they directed their attention onto those who had dared to imprison her.  

Wun bubbled herself, the sphere shattering as she was knocked back by a blow from the creature nearest to her. Daring, though, was suddenly attacked by a suit of armor. Honor moved swiftly, knocking it back with the flat of his sword.

“Use the POINT!” screamed Caballeron. "The poke! Give them the POKE!" 

“I can’t tell if there’s a pony within!”  

Daring reached into her coat and produced one of the changeling grenades, pulling what she imagined was the top of it and lobbing it the nearest monster. The greenish orb exploded in a plume of mucous that rapidly hardened into something like concrete. The creature looked down, confused.

“We have to retreat!” she cried. “They’re just trying to protect the Pyramid, we have to get away!”

“NO!” screamed Wun, summoning more magic. “I’m not leaving!”  

Nor did she have a choice. The monsters were fast, and had already overrun the camp—let alone the inner camp where most of the archaeologists still were, near the Pyramid itself. Daring Do found herself wondering if anypony was even expected to escape.  

That was when she heard a sound overhead, the thrumming of an engine--although, admittedly, every third stroke of it seemed to be a nearly cataclysmic backfire. She looked upward to see a barely functional biplane, its running lights on and in the wrong locations. Through the light of its backfiring, overloaded engine, Daring could see that the entirety of it was overburdened with hundreds of glass bottles. Glass bottles full of whatever it was that powered the airplane--and its pilot.

She saw Caballeron, staring up that the plane, not understanding what was about to happen—but Daring did.

“Get down, you idiot!”

She tackled Caballeron just as the plane hit the nearest monster, its engine igniting the fuel. The explosion was deafening, blowing Daring Do back as flame engulfed most of the camp.

She struck the ground and bounced, turning over several times. She had shielded Caballeron, but she felt pain in her side. Something was wrong. She had been burned, and probably badly.

She sat up, finding that her clothing, whatever it was made of, had largely spared her a far more severe injury—but it did not cover her right wing. An acrid smell reached her nose. The feathers had been burned away.  

“Are you hurt?”

“Get off me!”

Caballeron pushed Daring away, but when he saw her wing, his eyes widened. “You’re hurt--”

“I’m not the only one!” Daring turned back to the towering inferno where the airplane had once been. The creature’s bones had been destroyed by the blast, but its internal liquid structure was rapidly escaping, joining up with the other members of its deformed race that were now arriving.

“There’s...there’s no way anypony could survive that.”

Just as Caballeron said it, a form emerged from the flame. Although he was standing within it, and quite on fire, he did not combust. His jacket had, though, revealing the scars where his wings had once been as well as the Sarswirlian spells etched into his skin by solar laser—and the insignia of a sun that was almost Celestia’s.   

He was carrying a bottle and derping with maximal vigor. Although the contents of the bottle were on fire, he proceeded to drink his ammunition and shatter the bottle over his head.  

“FOR DAYBREAKER!”

He charged into the fray, still on fire, and was promptly eaten by one of the monsters.  

“Um...what?”

Daring Do had little time to contemplate what she had seen. One of the creatures burst through the camp, knocking both thestrals and griffons through the air as it charged her. An outstretched limb combined with several others to form a blade, like an enormous scythe. It raised it over Daring Do, ready to lower it.  

She did not have time to dodge—or to think. So she moved only by instinct, grabbing Wun’s necklace from her pocket and holding it out before her as the scythe fell.  

The blade stopped inches from where she held the gem, and the creature’s eyes moved to the front of its form. Eyes that were now large and surprisingly innocent.

“Fath...er?”

It spoke with the voice of a young colt—because, Daring Do realized, it was.

She stood, putting Sobek around her neck. “Wun! I can stop her! I need to get to the Pyramid!”  

“Daring, do not you dare to--”

It was too late. Daring Do had already run directly into the horde of monstrosities. They did not have brains, and could not differentiate her from the soul they recognized. They parted from her path, not desiring to attack one of their creators.  

“DARING!” Wun jumped back as a creature fell in front of her, lurching forward to attack—but then falling on its side, gibbering and crying out in confusion as its chest expanded. Then, with a plume of black fluid, it burst, and Cretin emerged, covered in liquid and being accosted by thousands of tentacles tipped with needles, teeth, claws and acid.	

“Get back, weird tentacle thing! No tentacles can defeat Cratar Impulsum! I am solid and you are liquid, LIQUID! No liquid can defeat ME! I shall drink your mother and she will ENJOY IT!”    

Wun reached out, casting a spell on him that was normally intended to vaporize things that were amenable to vaporization. Cretin, though, was not, and his body conducted the spell into the tentacles surrounding him, burning them away and allowing the monster to escape. Cretin, though, was utterly uninjured and continued to shout wildly.

“How are you not digested?”

“Because I am a form of indigestible fiber! And also immortal!”  

A suit of armor charged her, and Honor interceded, knocking it back. Wun turned, lifting Cretin in the air with her magic and bringing him down on the armor like a derpish hammer, crushing it flat.

“Looks like there was no pony in that one,” she said.  

“I AM THE GUTENTAG!” cried Cretin.  

Honor and Dignity converged around Wun, holding off the armor as best as they could. Wun took a deep breath and summoned a shield spell around them. It was weak and immediately began to crack.

“It is the best I can do,” she admitted, falling to one knee. “One of you figure out a plan! DO IT!”

“Not likely,” said Caballeron, stepping back from the group. “I am afraid, my dear, that I am not being paid enough to deal with this.”

“Unfortunately, you are in it just as we are,” growled Honor, striking back the hoof of a suit of armor that had pushed through a hole in Wun’s shield.

Caballeron smiled. “I do believe that would be incorrect.”

He reached into his pocket and produced an object—a violet sphere of glass mounted on a brass casing. An object he had taken from Daring Do’s pocket when she had saved his life.

Wun’s eyes widened when she saw it. “That is not for you!”

Caballeron smiled at her, then stuck the spell between his teeth. He bit down and vanished in a flash of violet light.

“Coward!” cried Wun. “And a poor snuggler, you fiend! Horseson! A proper stallion offers to give is partner belly rubs! BELLY RUBS, CURSE YOUR TAIL!”   

The forward portion of the shield buckled and collapsed. Wun knew that Caballeron had indeed made the right choice, but it had not been meant for him. That was the route her sister should have taken instead of paradoxically running into a horde of monsters and toward danger instead of away from it.

She, though, did not intend to leave without what belonged to her—even if that only meant her sister.  

“We move forward!” she cried, presenting it not so much of an order but as an intrinsic fact. She saw one of the creatures writhing toward her, prepared to attack, and levitated Cretin, using him as a shield.

“BAD upsies!” cried Cretin, his legs starting to involuntarily paddle. “TO HIGH!”   

The creature fired a plume of flechettes that exploded in a plume of fire, followed by several more attacking with devastating beams of magic. All of it rebounded from Cretin’s invulnerable body harmlessly, at least to him. The force of holding him, though, knocked Wun backward, her hooves digging trenches in the cold sand.  

“What in the name of the One True Goddess are you even made of?”

“Pure, unadulterated derp!”  

Honor jumped back, driving away a suit of armor. “They’re flanking!”

Wun turned, using Cretin as a shield again, deflecting something another beam of magic. The force did nothing to Cretin, but partially conducted through him and brought Wun to her knees. She could taste, and it tasted like Seht.  

One of the creatures charged forward, grabbing Cretin and attempting to yank Wun’s shield from her grasp.

“Looks like I’m going in again,” he mused as he was absorbed and the digestion process began. “This time, I think I will plug my nose. I don’t like smelling things that smell me too. From inside.”  

Wun tried to keep hold of him as she was struck from the side, barely managing to cast a disgracefully weak shield. All around her, the forces were converging. Daring Do had made it through, she hoped, but now her chance of retreat had been cut off. The sensation was odd, though. She had realized that she had reached her end, but felt ambivalent about it. It did not especially bother her, and that thought itself concerned her deeply.
> Chapter 24: In the Sight of the Codex
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The mask clattered to the floor, its barbed connection posts still dripping with black liquid. It lay inert, as it no longer served any purpose.  

Seht walked past the sarcophagi that her friends would never awake from, to the wall behind them. To the door of that they which had stood in fruitless defense of for so many thousands of years. Her horn lit, casting red light over the surface, and the smooth iron began to shift, revealing the seams of the machine hidden beneath.

The spell was unique. One forged long ago, in the time of her very first self and devised long before that. An artifact of the Darklands: a door that could not be forced or broken. A door that would only respond to the appropriate key

Seht approached the hole in the center of the door and inserted her horn into a hole at the very center of the device. The machines within reacted and she felt the snap as her head was suddenly pushed free, the door accepting the sacrifice she had offered.  

The door retracted into itself, opening for the first time since she had closed it five thousand years before—and now for the last time.  

She entered the room, her horn already regenerating, feeling her body suddenly awash in silent magic. There were no lights, and yet she perceived a glow that illuminated her path as she walked across the wide, perfectly flat floor.  

Two short columns arose form the center, and Seht took the puzzle spheres from their tops, arranging them without even bothering to look, levitating them in her magic and entering the correct codes to reactivate Duat's primary diagnostic systems.

Red magic flickered in front of her, and then a set of translucent panels appeared. Seht looked down and them.  

“Odin...? Hera...?”

It was far too late, though. All of the other marks had gone black. Only one remained, at the very top of the ring.  

“So it is only us that remain.” Tears dripped down her face and onto the floor. “I am sorry I am so late. It seems I overslept.”  

She shifted to a different panel. What she saw did not surprise her. The Cores that had once powered Duat had long-since demised unto the furthest realm. Their souls had departed and their bodies had lost almost the entirety of their cellular integrity. The storage centrifuges, however, will still chornolocked. 

Seht looked upward, toward the center of the room. Sitting at the center of the blackness, suspended in the air by no apparent magic or support, sat a small three-sided pyramid. It was no larger than a pony’s head, and its surface was made of metal—although a metal that was most certainly not iron.  

Seht looked up at it, her tears now flowing freely. Tears at seeing it, and the ones she had held at the sight just outside the door. Tears she could no longer contain. The sight of a rusted alligator mask lying in the dust, along with the others. A mask that had covered a face she would never again see.  

And then she lowered the spheres, activating the internal systems. The machinery that powered the Pyramid roared to life as the centrifuges began to spin, driving the last of Duat’s magic through its systems for one final task.  

Seht was the last of them, and it had fallen to her. It would be completed, and the path that fate had assigned her would, at long last, be concluded as well.




The ground shook with tremendous force. Sand began to shift as the ground cracked. Wun was knocked to her knees, her spells collapsing around her from the world being turned on its head.

The creatures stopped their attack and suddenly screamed in terror, fleeing in every direction and diving into the sand, departing as quickly as they could from the unfamiliar vibration.

Wun had no time to comment or to rejoice. In the distance, her eyes turned to the Iron Pyramid as the black, thestral-carved blocks began to tumble away from it—and as it rose upward from the sand, effortlessly pushing them out of the way.

Rock crumbled and was torn to fragments as sand collapsed around the rising pyramid like water, a flow of red sand sliding off the perfect and uncorroded iron it had for so long obscured. As it came, dust rose around it, turning the air deep scarlet—but through it, the shadow of the Pyramid could be seen growing every higher.

The camp nearest to it, now abandoned, was torn asunder in an instant, buried in the sand—and the wave seemed to draw nearer and nearer at incredible speed.

And yet Wun could not run. She could only look upward, staring in awe as it rose from the sand, rending the mountains that had grown over it so long ago. The volume of it was hundreds if not thousands of times greater than of Hissan’s Pyramid. There was no buried temple beneath, or complexes built into the sand and deep below ground. Only the Pyramid, buried for so many millennia. A vast monstrosity of iron, forged in a single piece. 

Then, in the distance, her eyes saw motion. The inner camp had been evacuated, and the monstrous mummies had fled—but she saw something nonetheless. Through the dust, the thin black of a whip wrapping around the open door of the Pyramid, formerly at ground level—and a pony climbing up it.

“Daring! NO!”

Wun stood and took one step before the Pyramid fully left the ground. In an instant the world was consumed by the glow of the nearest of its three thrusters, a gargantuan engine with an aperture the size of a small Equestrian city, its internal mechanisms expelling an unfathomable plume of magic. All sound vanished in the silent roar of the spells, and the desert blew outward, a storm of molten sand and rock driven by the force of the Pyramid's incomprehensible lift. Wun’s only recourse was to bubble herself and those around her as the dust and force of the spells knocked her back, rolling her across the sand.

There was nothing she could do. The Iron Pyramid took flight upward, vaporizing the sand directly below it and leaving only an impossibly deep pit and shattered mountains where it had once stood. Above the dust, it seemed to be moving so slow, its engines leaving a vast trio of slowly spiraling contrails. Wun could not follow.

Which meant that it now came down to Daring Do, and Daring Do alone.  





Daring Do barely managed to pull herself into the Pyramid before its ascent suddenly accelerated, forcing her to the ground from the rapidly accumulating g-force. Although she could not perform the math in her head, her Pegasus instincts let her know that she was gaining altitude, and fast.  

Looking out the open door, she saw the entirety of the desert stretching out before her, and only iron below her. The Pyramid was just as large as she had remembered it in Seht’s memories—and she now understood how it had reached the far north, and what her visions had meant. Of a vast Iron Pyramid, suspended over the civilization forged below, holding aloft its synthetic star.

She stood, fighting the downward force of the rising Pyramid—and she began to run. Because her instincts told her something else. Something bad was happening. The monsters had been a distraction, cover for Seht to get here, and Daring Do did not know why—but she understood that it was something truly terrible.

Ignoring the pain in her burned wing, she charged into the darkness of the Pyramid. She knew the way she needed to go, and knew where she was going.  




Daring reached the central tomb, and nearly stopped. She could not look at them, lying there, now that she knew. Their masks, the representations of their Lines, stood rusted and ancient beside their former owners, staring blankly. All Daring could think of was, as terrible as the scene was for her, what Seht must have felt upon witnessing it. What this sight must have meant to her. That because ponies like her had pillaged artifacts they did not understand, these ponies would never again wake to the world.

In the corner, she saw one mask that was not rusted. A mask in the shape of a sha’s head, lying to the side of a badly rotted one in the shape of a smiling crocodile’s face. Perhaps it had been jostled by the launch, or perhaps it had been placed there with purpose.

The air was growing thin. Daring Do, as a Pegasus, could withstand it, but she also knew that their altitude was getting dangerously high.  

At the far end of the room, she saw a new door, and felt something arising from it. Magic and the smell of the air itself burning—and a strange force pulling her toward it.

Inside, Daring found an enormous room, probably a dome although the ceiling was too far for her to see clearly. What she saw was in its center. A tiny pyramid, made of a strange gray metal, surrounded in an incredibly complex sphere of white magic—magic that was now linked to Seht’s horn as she sequentially decoded and removed the seals containing the pyramid within.

Whatever it was, it was losing stability. The walls of the small object were beginning to separate, filling the room with flashes of brilliant light as magical lightning shot forth, breaking through the containment seal and precipitating into the same unknown metal that the object was made of. Or, as Daring Do somehow understood, the shell that kept the object inside contained. 

Seht sat in the center of the magical storm, unwavering, linked to the object at the end of a path inlaid into the ground. Through the noise of the magical lightning and the roar of the engines below, she remained silent and firm, slowly crying as she tore away the seals.  

Suddenly, Daring Do felt herself thrown to the side of the room. A deafening explosion shook the entire Pyramid. For a moment she thought she had been knocked across the room by magic, but as she grabbed the doorframe she realized that the Pyramid had tilted. Something was wrong.

Seht, grabbing one of the columns beside her, adjusted the projection before her and desperately attempted to divert power from the maneuvering thrusters to compensate for the failed engine.  

“Seht!” cried Daring Do.

“Daring Do,” replied Seht, her voice sounding desperate—even if she did not turn from her controls. “You should not be here. Without the Cores I do not have enough force to reach the requisite altitude. You alone are fast enough to escape the blast radius. You need to go. NOW.”

Daring, feeling the Pyramid began to stabilize, smiled humorlessly. She gestured to her damaged wing. “That’s not going to happen.”

Seht looked over her shoulder, her red eyes focusing on Daring’s wing—and then on Daring's eyes. “Then you will be lost with the rest of them. I shall not stop the process.”

The noise of the room began to clear—or become distant. As if the sound of the dying Codex were being pulled back into itself.  

“You can’t!” cried Daring Do. “You’re magic is linked to it, if you destroy it—”

“I will not have time to notice.” Seht looked up at the Codex, and Daring Do was sure she felt it staring back at her. “I am deactivating the spells that contain its Hawking radiation. You do not comprehend what that means. Suffice to say the result will be rapid.”

Daring Do did indeed not know what that meant. Nor did she care. “Seht, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. I do.” She looked up to the Codex. “I am the last of my kind, and it the last of its own. This world is cruel and strange. We were not meant to exist within it. This is my final duty. I am simply late to join the entirety of my race in oblivion.”  

“It’s not the world! Wun—she tries, but she doesn’t know! She’s like a child—”

“And you are her mother, then? How ironic.”  

“Seht, they aren’t all like her!”

“She took my beloved. And who took the rest of my friends? Who took my brothers and sisters? It was not her. It was the ponies of your era. Who pillaged and stole for the sake of greed. This is not my world. So I shall depart from it and be forgotten.”  

Daring Do shivered. Something in the back of her mind understood what that meant, although the rush of adrenaline was keeping her from fully comprehending the dire position she found herself in.

“There are kind ponies out there,” she said. “There are others that could be your friends, you don’t have to be alone—”

“I know that, Daring. But the Codex must finally rest.”

“I don’t understand!”

Seht sighed, her magic continuing to break the seals and the Codex continuing to destabilize, now in total silence. “The knowledge contained within could tear your world apart.”

“Or you could change it, for the better!”

“No. It would only be a matter of time before ponies like HER take it from me. Daring, you will not convince me. All of the other Interfaces have already completed the task. I am the last, and I am alone. I will not disgrace their sacrifice. I will make it complete. I will perform my final duty. I will not hide from the truth any longer.”   

Several more of the seals on the spell cracked, and the room suddenly filled with blinding white light—light that was quickly consumed by darkness.

Daring Do felt herself suddenly being pulled toward the Codex. She looked up to see the walls of the tiny pyramid had opened—and revealed the eye within.

It was not an eye, though. That was how Daring perceived it, but not what it was. The Codex was instead a small black sphere. But not ordinary black. It was impossibly dark. The darkest thing she had ever seen.

Every hair on her body bristled, and not from the magic permeating the room. She suddenly understood why she felt so afraid around it. The sense of being watched was an instinctive reaction, a relic of an era of pony evolution when predators with sharp-pointed horns had pursued her ancestors through the plains in times long before history. That ancient fear had instinctively been applied to this as well, although not for the same reason. It was not watching her, because it could not see. And yet her mind treated it as though it were on the verge of devouring her.  

“The entirety of all dark unicorn knowledge,” said Seht, coldly. “Imprinted on the event horizon of a quantum singularity. These words mean nothing to you. But it is my greatest shame that I must end a thing of such great beauty.”  

The air around them distorted as something flowed outward from the singularity, passing through its broken neutronium shell and into the room at all. A kind of colored mist that resolved into shapes and forms.

“What is it doing?”

“Memories are leaking,” said Seht. “Dreams of the god we created.”  

The images formed around Daring Do. They were not light, but shadow. In them, she saw the forms of ponies. Of other dark unicorns, like Seht, standing around the Codex. It was a flash of memory, like a ghostly photograph. In it, they wore strange clothing, its form derived from the distant memories of a world ruled not by magic but by technology instead.  

There were children and adults alike, all smiling and congradulating each other, laughing and proud of the success of their scientists. All of them were strong and dark, save for one. A small unicorn whose body was a most disturbing shade of violet.  

The memory shifted across countless ages. Now, instead, Daring Do beheld dark unicorns clad in masks that had not yet developed the headdress of animals, devices instead intended to protect their faces from radiation and damage. One among them stood tall, drawing a thin trail of runes from the ancient Codex while his comrades looked on. Among them were thestrals, some of whom were too young to have attained the mark of rank and stared in wide-eyed awe at their masters.  

It changed again, and Seht took a step back. She no longer needed to interact with the seal for the final sequence. The process could no longer be stopped.

Where she had stood, three dark unicorns appeared. Two were clad in strange robes, wearing masks almost like hers, although more primitive and abstract in an artistic style that was forgotten millennia before Seht’s birth.  

One of them had the head of an ibis. The other, a sha. And between them stood a filly, her body already almost as large as an adult of any other pony race but her eyes wide and innocent and her flank unmarked.  

The two beside her stepped apart, and the filly steeled herself and raised her horn. Then came the screaming.

Daring Do tried to look away, but she found she could not. She watched as the magic of the Codex poured into that filly, forging the connection for which she had been born. To bear witness to the god they had forged in their own image. And she saw the memory progress. Another filly. A colt. Another colt, a filly, a colt and a colt again—countless hundreds of ponies across time and space, each of them etched with the memories of the last. A transfer of Seht itself.

Until, finally, it stopped at one. At the last—and Daring Do watched as the current Seht writhed on the ground, a filly in agony as her mark was installed on her side. As she became many, and endless. As she lost her name and became Seht.

“That...that was you.”

“And is me,” said Seht. “No more could ever be born. No more of me. I am the last.” 

As she watched, the younger version of Seht stopped screaming. She breathed hard on the ground for a moment, and then stood. As she did, the sha-faced stallion beside her nodded. Then, without ever showing his face, collapsed to dust.  

A new memory came. Of ponies in strange masks standing around the Codex, engaged in a discussion. There was no sound this time, but Daring could see the energy among them. Some lashed out in anger, but most were calm. At their head sat the most ancient, the youngest among them, clad in the mask of a sha—and at her side, one who wore the head of a crocodile. And when Sobek spoke, the others listened.  

A different memory. Of two ponies sitting before the Codex, weeping. One with the mask of a cat, the other of an eagle. They were alone in a darkness that had suddenly become so hostile. So empty. So much time had passed from when their world was new, and Daring Do sensed that it was growing dim. That Seht had not awoken in an inhospitable world, but one that the modern age had been encroaching upon long before she went to sleep, even then begining to erase everything she hold dear.

A pony in a sha mask appeared by their side. The two others looked to her, and then lifted to her their failure. Something small and wrapped in cloth.  

A new memory, of a pony all alone, her mask retracted. Sitting alone as the world collapsed around her. Then, from the darkness, another. A pony in a crocodile mask, the metal of it retracting as he approached, revealing an eternally young and kind face with just the barest hint of derpishness. He sat beside Seht, putting his head on her shoulder. In her pocket, Daring Do suddenly felt Wun’s necklace move, if only slightly. As if it, too, could see.  

Then the memories went dark. That was the last one it had recorded.  

“Then the time has come,” said Seht, stepping back to her place before the now bare Codex, it’s singularity now hovering silently in the center of the room, the its formal shell a system of triangles in orbit. “There are no more, and never will be.”

Suddenly, the room flashed. A new memory appeared around them.

“What?” Seht looked around, confused. “This is not possible. It has caught up to me in real time. There are no new memories.”

“There’s more?”

“There can’t be. I have every memory already, there could not be more...”

The shadows resolved, and Daring Do saw the formations of the mummified abominations now wandering the room, ghostly shades of their true and hideous selves, standing in defense of the Codex.

Then something moved, a shadow nearly too swift to see. One of the creatures roared and charged, and Daring Do saw the loop of a sword swiveling on a gray hoof—and the creature was sliced  cleanly in half.

Another charged, surrounding its body with a carapace of unbreakable dark iron several feet thick. The pony with the blade took a flying leap and brought the sword down on the shell, effortlessly cleaving it in twain.  

The pony moved with terrible swiftness, with every blow performed with both impossible strength and procession—and terrifying wrath. Not the blows of a swordspony, but of something far more primitive. Not strikes meant to win, but motions meant to maximize destruction with utter disregard for the safety of the pony connected to the hilt of the blade.  

In seconds, the monsters that had seemed so unstoppable lay on the floor, their bodies broken and the black sludge that made up their tissue hauling away what fragments of bone they had. One managed to stand, to offer one last blow, and brought down a great hoof covered with toothy mouthes on the dark pony. The pony swiveled, and the monster raised its iron shield.

The pony struck it with his hoof, imparting so much force that the iron deformed and every bone within the creatures body was reduced to crumbs. The flesh departed the bones and left, leaving the pony alone.

He stood still, not even winded. In fact, not even breathing. Daring Do saw that he was an earth-pony, one of a grayish color and dressed in simple doublet. Wun had several like it, and Daring Do knew that this pony had last stood in this spot just under two thousand years ago. The only other thing he wore was a simple necklace that held a small, gray stone.  

His mane was pure white, and he held a sword—although, for some reason, the Codex could not render it properly. Instead of metal, it showed only a space of pure blackness.  

The pony froze, and then suddenly turned toward Daring Do. She jumped back, as did Seht, Daring Do from incomprehension but Seht from a distant instinctive memory of predators that had no name.

His eyes were distorted and red. Not the eyes of a pony at all—and slowly he smiled, continuing to stare at Daring Do.  

He spoke, but not with the voice of a pony. With two voices. One, a terrified young stallion, and the other a female.  

“Such fluffy little wings...”

One of the creatures suddenly rose behind him, its remaining limbs forming a pair of great scythes. As it lunged, though, its body was consumed in red fire. Metal was rended and bone splintered as the pressure of the fire increased around it, drawing it inward in a slow implosion. It screamed horribly as everything inside it was broken, reduced by magic until all that remained was a tiny ornate cube that dropped to the floor, dripping as a tiny worm of bubbling black liquid escaped and fled from what remained of its body.  

A different pony appeared at the edge of the memory. This one was larger than the earth pony, who was of a surprisingly light build. His body was covered in armor. Some of it was Equestrian, or fragments drawn from an Equestrian source, but other plates were assembled from elswhere. Assyrian, Abyssian, griffon, and several others that Daring Do could not recognize—all assembled into a skin of machinery and mechanical muscle. All linked to a respirator apparatus built into his strange dark helmet. The armor was apparently magical, with runes in strange languages having been assembled into it. What purpose it served, Daring Do was not sure.  

“Holder,” said the voice, distorted by the mask. “Do not get distracted.”

Holder, the earth pony, turned sharply toward the unicorn. “These creatures, they bear no souls. Nothing to claim of worth. I require the flesh of ponies, not of these pointless shells.”  

“Strange that you claim to ‘require’ anything. I had understood that you were inviolable and devoid of needs.”	

Holder’s face distorted. “Do not toy with Her. You understood what She meant.”

“And you must understand who gave you that particular pony body.”

“Which is why I tolerate you.” Holder looked up at the Codex, pointing his blade at it. “This pointless trifle. Is this what you came all this way for?”

The armored pony looked up at it. “Yes, Holder. This is the one.”

He reached for his helmet, disengaging the mechanism that held it to his head. It hissed as he removed it and threw it away.   

Seht took a step back. “That—that is not possible!”

The pony that stood before them in the memory was a dark unicorn, a stallion of disturbing beauty. His mane was long and black, and his horn curved and bladed, as Seht’s was. A thin dark iron crown rested on his forehead.

Holder sighed, lowering his sword and cutting a deep gouge in the iron floor—a gouge that still remained there over fourteen centuries later.  

“And what do you intend to do with it?”

The dark unicorn only smiled and raised his horn to the Codex.

Energy suddenly flowed outward from it. Even if it was only represented in the form of a memory, Daring Do shielded her eyes. She could feel the sudden heat arising from it.  

“No!” cried Seht, suddenly panicked, as if she could change the past and protect this newfound member of her own extinct race. “Only an Interface can survive contact! Only one with the Mark!”  

The stallion in the memory, of course, ignored her. Instead, strange spells formed around his bodies. Spells formed in every school of magic from every race of unicorns. The fragments of dark unicorn spells, as well as those of the Classic and Eastern unicorns—and even some in a truly horrifying form that deeply unsettled Daring Do. Something from long before all three.

The beam expanded into a devastating blast. A beam of pure, raw information. The entirety of the Codex’s contents flowing into his mind at once. It was like the spell Seht had used to gain information from the books in Twilight Felt’s library, but orders of magnitude more powerful.  

Even Daring Do understood as she stared into the blinding stream of letters and mathematical equations. “It’s too much.”

“Yes,” sighed Seht, on the verge of tears. “Yes, it is.”

Then, in a flash, the beam stopped and the stallion fell to the floor, his body smoking and parts of his flesh collapsing to dust.

Holder stared at him and groaned. “This is not what She is intended for,” he chastised, lifting his blade. “So I will let the organic deal with this moronic task.”  

He sheathed his blade in a scabbard on his back and suddenly dropped to the ground. When he sat up, his mane was no longer white. It was a dull, rock-like gray and his eyes were strikingly blue. He would have looked almost appealing had  he not seemed so terrified.

“Who what where when why?” he said, confused. “Where am I? How did I get—SOMBRA!”

He jumped up, rushing to the side of his fallen friend. “Sombra, no! What did you—Boulder, help me pick him up!”  

The earth pony carefully picked up the stallion, supporting him. Sombra groaned, wincing as he opened his eyes. Seht gasped audibly.	

“He...he survived?”

“Sombra, are you okay?! Darn it all to heck, why did I let you do this? Wake up, please wake up!”

Sombra put his shaking hoof on Holder’s shoulder, and then stood weakly, the earth pony still supporting him. “Holder, my friend, I am still here.” The wounds on his body were already starting to regenerate and within seconds had healed.  

Holder let out a long sigh of relief, then he looked up at the Codex. “I don’t like that thing. Boulder says it’s a bad thing.” He looked back to Sombra. “Did you get it?”

Sombra nodded, and his horn ignited.

Information suddenly swirled around him. Daring Do understood absolutely none of it. It was not in what had been in Seht’s time modern dark unicornic, but in a different language. A language that she quickly realized was, inf act, mathematics--but for which the equations did not quite make sense. They lacked the fundamental sanity of modern, lesser disciplines of the subject and were built upon an entirely different array of concepts. 

“No...” said Seht, softly.

“What is it?”

“This...this is a piece of the Deepest Core. Memories that even the greatest of us could not reach. That only the Ancient Kings could even begin to fathom. It cannot possibly be recovered. It would drive the owner insane to even attempt it...” She turned to Daring Do sharply. “This stallion, who is he? What does your history record of him? None of the knowledge I aquired holds any relevent context.”

Daring Do looked at him, then back at Seht. “I don’t know. There isn’t anything recorded about a pony named ‘Sombra’, especially not a wizard like that. Not that I’ve ever seen. And I've seen pretty much all of it.”  

The math swirling around their feet began to change, segmenting itself and being rearranged—and merged with new math. New spells and new systems, rendered in green. They connected and assembled into something new. Seht stared intently—then gasped. In fear, perhaps, or in awe. 

“What is it?” asked Daring Do.

“Monoceron,” replied Seht, softly. “He has...he completed it...”

“I don’t know what this means,” admitted Holder.

“It means,” said Sombra, “that my theories are mathematically valid. This provides the last components of the model necessary for my work to be completed. Or, rather, the foundation that indicates that it is possible.”

“So you can do the...the door thing?”

“No. The foundation is real, but the work required would take me several lifetimes.” He produced a second file, this one a combination of double-helices and a combination of five repeating letters in numerous sequences. “There are ways to compensate, though.”

“How?”

“You would not understand. Come, Holder.”

Holder began to follow him. “To where?”

“There is work to be done. The record suggests an extensive power source to the north, one that I will require to complete my work. We must go there.”

Holder gulped, and then looked back at the broken fragments of the monsters as they slowly started to crawl away—and then up at the Codex. He shivered, and then started walking, following his best friend toward whatever unknown piece played the next role in creating something he would never understand.  

The memory faded. For a moment there was nothing, and then several white lines traced themselves into the air, forming letters. They were strange and geometric, rendered in three dimensions. They were in an ancient form that predated the dark unicorns and history itself. Seht, for some reason, associated them with the sound of ticking and desperate fear. She had only ever seen them once before, long before she herself was born—and Daring Do would only see them one other time, decades later at the twilight of her life.  

A thin smile crossed Seht’s face as she read them. “I see. So it is a leap of faith.” She turned to Daring Do. “For both of us.”

“Seht?”

Seht returned to her position before the Codex and cast a spell. The Monoceron code surrounded her, replicated from what Sombra had shown her—and she arranged it around the geometric runes, incorporating them into forms she provided from her own mind. Seeing it, Daring Do almost imagined that those runes were meant to be part of the code—or the code was meant to accept them.

Above her, the neutronium fragments in orbit around the Codex formed a new confirmation, their surfaces aligning around it in a kind of sphere. New spells began to surround them, linking them, and the sphere began to revolve.  

“My body will be able to withstand the void radiation for several seconds,” she said. “But yours, I do not know. Nor will that world be meant for you, Daring Do.” She looked over her shoulder and no longer looked sad. “I cannot take the Pyramid with me. It is too heavy. So I will entrust it to you.”

“Where are you going?”

“I think you already know, Daring. Thank you for being kind to me. But this world is still not meant for me.” She looked up to the Codex. “I simply now know that I am not alone. And that he is waiting, in the darkness.”  

Daring Do understood and nodded. She ran toward the door as the sphere of triangles around the Codex began to move, entering the code that had been provided by the strange runes, being assembled from the spells that a forgotten pony named Sombra had managed to construct.

The air began to vibrate, and new lightning began to escape the Codex. New magic, a brilliant white corona as its blackness was converted to light and it truly came to life.  

Daring stopped, reaching into her pocket. “Seht!” she called over the noise. Seht turned, and Daring threw the necklace to her. Seht caught it. “Take him! Don’t give up hope!”

Seht looked at the gem, and then up at Daring Do. She smiled and put the chain of the necklace around her own neck. “And you,” she said. “Do not forget.”  




As soon as Daring Do felt the wind on her face and saw the horizon stretching out before her, she heard the sound of the explosion behind her. Explosive bolts had fired along the upper edge of the Pyramid, spells severing the top of it. With a roar of magical flame, the top of the pyramid broke free, a bipyramidal hexahedron of dark iron departing under the power of its own engines, rising away from the rest of the Pyramid and up into the dark sky. Seconds later, Daring Do heard the sound of it being crushed. Of metal rending and crumpling under immense force as it distorted and imploded, ripped from space itself until it ignited in an explosion of brilliant light—and as the light retreated to nothingness. As Seht left behind reality itself.  

Then, below her, she heard the engines of the Pyramid slowing—until she only heard the sound of rushing wind. There was no magic left within them.

That was when she felt a peculiar sensation. As if she had suddenly grown lighter.

She looked out in panic, realizing that she was so high she could see the space where the blue of the sky transitioned to the blackness beyond. She was now fully aware that the Pyramid, without its engines, was falling.  

Her mind raced and she instinctively spread her wings—finding one completely incapable of flight, its pain making her wince.  

“Buck me in the teeth!” she swore, looking around, desperately trying to find a solution. All she could see was snakes pouring from the door and, finding that they were so very high, huddling around themselves and quivering.

“Please no!” they wept, holding their little snake families tightly. “Please NO!”  

Daring Do looked at them, and then at the desert growing ever closer.
> Chapter 25: Falling Action
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cretin looked up. “Is that normal?”

Wun, herself barely conscious, looked up through the dust and saw the blackness of the Pyramid overhead—and saw that it was getting bigger.  

She stood up. “No, it is not! Daring, no!”

She started to run, but Honor tackled her.

“Get off me, you filthy bat-boy! I will snuggle your family and bite their wings!” Wun struggled, her horn sparking, but she was already weak and badly overexerted. “My sister is in there!”

“Ra herself could not stop it from falling, what are you going to do, unicorn?!”

“I have to try! Daring! DARING!”  

Honor held her as the billions of tons of iron descended quickly back toward its original location.   

“That’s the fourth biggest thing I’ve seen out of the sky!” cried Cretin. “Because I’ve seen Celestia’s rump, and that was the first three! Hold on, comrades, I shall shield you with my softness!”

He threw himself over them just as the Pyramid struck. Dust and stone erupted form the impact and the explosion propagated outward. The world was consumed in dust and noise.




Wun pushed her way through the dust, limping and barely able to see. “Daring! DARING!”  

She had gotten close to the Pyramid. It was vast and beautiful, even more so than before,  although it had not landed entirely straight. It now sat crooked, partly in the hole it had made when it had launched. Strangely, the top was missing. Where it had gone, Wun had no idea.

Something moved in the dust, tumbling down the walls of the Pyramid. Wun held her breath, not sure what she would see.

Instead of her sister’s shattered form, though, she was suddenly bowled over by a sphere of cemented changeling goo.  

“Daring?” Wun sat up. “Honor! Honor, you filthy griffon-snugger, get over here!”

Other ponies appeared out of the dust. Wun began to tear at the concretions with her magic, but she was too weak to do any damage. Honor arrived and carefully poked it with his sword. After a few moments, it cracked and then, precipitously, burst.

Hundreds of snakes poured out, all crying out for joy and slithering off to wherever it was snakes went when they were not busy. As they cleared, Wun found Daring Do, her eyes wide and her body shivering in horror, her hooves still pressed against the bandoleer belt around her torso that had formerly contained a number of changeling grenades.   

“S...s...snakes,” she moaned. “Why did it have to be snakes?!”

Wun picked up her sister, only to herself collapse.

“Wun!”

“I am fine, Daring. Just out of magic. It is good to see that you were not smashed. It would be a terrible report to send to father.”  

“Where is Seht?” demanded Honor.	

“Gone,” said Daring. “You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”  

Honor collapsed to his knees in the dust. “Then finally, it is over.”

As the dust began to clear, Daring saw other ponies approaching. Dirt-smudged archaeologists, confused griffons, and terrified thestrals. All emerging to see the Pyramid and at the destroyed landscape around it.  

Daring Do was not sure how to move forward. She felt a desperate need to sleep, but did not want to. Her mind was numb, but she did not want to rest. There was still so much thinking she needed to do. Perhaps an entire lifetime’s worth.  

For a moment, there was only silence and peace as they all stood together in the shadow of the iron Pyramid.  

Then, from above, she heard a droning sound--and the clouds and dust were parted by an enormous cloudbreaker. Hundreds of zeppelins followed in its wake, each one bearing Celestia’s insignia.  

Wun looked up at them and sighed. “Well, buck me in the teeth and all that, I suppose. Now I have to deal with this.”

Ponies began to appear from above. Pegasi descended and landed while earth ponies and unicorns rappelled down ropes to the desert floor. All of them were dressed in black business suits, their faces covered with gas masks that obscured their identities.  

As the Pegasi cleared the dust, one of the group stepped forward, approaching Wun and Daring Do. He was much larger than the others, and not a pony. He was a griffon—although he stood twice the size of a normal one. The feathers of his head were gray-white, and his eyes were covered with reflective aviator glasses. At his side, curiously juxtaposed against his suit, he had a scabbard for a sword almost as long as Daring Do was tall.  

“One week from retirement, and then this,” he growled, stopping in front of Wun. “How in the name of Celestia’s butter-cream vanilla frosting could ANYPONY cause this much damage this fast?!”  

Next to him, space suddenly erupted with a plume of blue magic as a unicorn emerged. A white stallion, but not of house Twilight. He was thin, young, and greasy, his black mane brushed back over his high forehead. He was very clearly of House Neighsay—and he was levitating an earth-pony in a blue containment bubble.

“See! Exactly where I said it would be!” cried Caballeron.  

“Excuse me,” said Wun, standing and wobbling her way forward to face the enormous griffon. “You are standing on private property. I must demand, with a maximum of of politeness, that you get your respective filthy selves off my land.”

“This land is now property of Celestia.”

“Under what authority?!”

The griffon shrugged and leaned forward. “Eminent domain.”

The unicorn beside him cleared his throat. “The procedure for seizing propery is a subsection of chapter eight of the regulations for the seizure of dangerous artifacts, concerning immobile and durable goods--”

“Agent Neighsay, stop talking, I hate your voice. And put on your dang mask. I don’t like your face. You have the ugly. Plus, you’re not immune to disease and poison like I am. Why bother citing procedure if you're not even going to follow the dang protocols?” The griffon sighed and faced Wun. “We were ordered directly by Her Excellency Twilight Velvet of a magical anomaly. The Agency was dispatched immediately to compensate.” He looked up at the listing Pyramid, which shuddered slightly as the sand below it shifted. “And it looks like we got here just in time.”  

“Yes, he Horses in Black,” said Wun, grimacing. “Or should I say Horsesons in Black? You deal with monsters. And, as you can see, there are no monsters currently present. Only my archaeological dig, that I legally paid for with my own funds. Should not you working on catching a bugbear or somesuch?”  

Daring Do looked past the griffon. The other agents were already establishing a perimeter and were herding the thestrals into a pen marked with tape, prepping them for decontamination and medical treatment. The griffons, though, were more stubborn.  

Gruff appeared, clutching his blunderbuss. “Miss Perr-Synt,” he said. “I’m not a fan of any of this either, but as a mercenary, let me just say it, you don’t climb a hill you know you won’t be coming back down from. It’s not worth it.”

“It is to me,” said Wun. “I will not surrender my land to a griffon. Especially not a filthy mutant.”  

The griffon looked over his aviator glasses, revealing two ancient and severely mutated eyes. Not those of a bird, but more like those of a cat.  

“I have a job to do,” he sighed. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here, but protecting Equestria is our job. I get paid for it, and my work is top quality every time. No exceptions. We’re going to contain this site, whether you like it or not.”  

Wun bared her teeth, and her horn flickered as she struggled to lift her rifle.

“Wun!” hissed Daring Do. “Stop it!”

“I will not surrender,” she said. “Not to you. Do you know what a caster does to a griffon? Even one like you? Would you like to see?”

The griffon reached for his sword, pulling out the first inch of it and revealing that it was made of solid enchanted silver. At the sound of it, every masked agent stopped and turned to Wun.

“If you’re threatening my agents, you’re forcing my talon. I’m faster than you are.”	

“Yes.” Wun’s smile grew. “I’ve heard it said you can knock an arrow out of the air with that moronic blade. But can you do the same with a bullet?”  

Wun raised the rifle—but as she did, the space to the left of the griffon began to crackle. Then, with explosive force, it burst open, knocking Wun down and the rifle out of her grasp.

A pony dropped out of the teleportation spell, knocking several agents back with the immense force of her arrival. Her  massive body dropped to the sand, her size nearly dwarfing the mutated griffon beside her.

Her entire body was clad in mechanical armor forged from dark iron, built to an unknown but but distinctly Equestrian pattern. It was heavy and segmented, covering every inch of her skin save for her long, pale horn. Except not all of it was metal. Some parts were made of a darker substance. Daring Do realized to her horror that the unusual substance was in fact changeling chitin. It was spaced out over her, bonded to the heavy armor that covered her body, the empty skulls of changeling exoskeletons staring outward from several points. The immence mare's face was covered in an iron mask, and her pink horn had been sharpened to a deadly point.

She turned slowly, the robotics of her armor quietly whirring as she faced Wun and Daring Do. Daring Do looked up at the massive pony and saw a pair of blue eyes through the mask. Eyes that were terrifyingly cold and disturbingly unempty.  

Wun, herself a tall pony, turned toward this enormous being and seemed small and tiny in comparison. She smiled, though, and then bowed.  

“Field Marshall,” she said. “I am honored by your presence, Daughter of the Moon. I witness your divinity, and gladly transfer the holdings in question to your possession, and the possession of you alone.”

Daring sneered. “That fast?”

Wun turned to her sharply, and Daring Saw that her sister was utterly terrified of the alicorn before her. An alicorn who did not even bother to show her wings as her aunt did. “This is the leader of the entire Equestrian military,” said Wun, carefully. “She has done us a great honor by manifesting and allowing me to save face by conducting the transfer to a worthy being. Do not be rude to her, sister.”

“Hey you! Fatty!” Cretin pushed Wun out of the way, staring up at the Field Marshall. “Yes you! You with the face!”  

The agents all recoiled in horror, not at the offense toward the Field Marshall but at the sight of Cretin himself.

“A Solarian Elite Guard?” The griffon turned to Wun in horror. “What have you done, you fool?!”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” said Cretin, sitting in the sand and crossing his front hooves. “I’m tired.” His expression fell. “I don’t want to fight the war anymore. Can I please surrender?”  

Equine Annihilation stared at him, and the very tip of her pink horn ignited. Cretin was toppled over by unbreakable luminescent chains that suddenly bound his body, and every agent available leapt onto him in a pile to administer the necessary beatings per protocol for arrest.  

She instead turned to Wun, and Wun once again bowed.  

“If you will excuse me,” said Wun. “I have overexerted myself, and I need to be unconscious now.”   

She promptly collapsed, and did not get back up.  

“Right,” sighed the griffon. “Rich looters thinking they can do whatever they want. This is how ponies get hurt.” He sheathed his sword fully and turned over his shoulder. “Right, agents! Let’s get that perimeter up! Neighsay, unbubble that stubbly earthie-boy, we’re going to need him!”  

Two agents appeared at Daring Do’s side, throwing a blanket over her back and leading her to the holding space. She barely made it two steps before her shaking legs collapsed from beneath her.

“Miss?”

Daring trembled for a moment, totally depleated of energy. But she looked up at them and smiled.

“It’s okay. I think it’s going to be okay.”
> Epilogue: A Parting of Paths
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun beamed down. The sky was bright and clear, pure blue except for the thinness whips of cirrus clouds far to the east. Daring took a breath, savoring the smell of spices and sand.  

The official story had already been circulated throuogh the town. There had been a freak storm which had arrived from the south, a kind of sand tornado. It was only by the actions of a heroic merchant and his wife that the town had managed to get to shelter in time, and many ponies had been saved. Stories of black-clad, bat-winged ponies appearing in the southern section of town were easily dismissed and derided as fear-driven hallucinations or tricks of the wind.  

The damage to the airstrip had largely been cleared, and new zeppelins had arrived to replace those that had been relegated to highly valuable spare parts. A surprising number bore the sign of Ra, and the ponies below were excited by their presence. Many gathered at the edge to see the ships arriving and docking, just as they had before when Daring Do and Wun had first arrived in the city. Except now, instead of arriving from above, Daring was watching from below.

The Arabian merchant stepped forward to the base of a spire where an equally tall Arabian earth-mare emerged with her entourage. They bowed to each other and spoke, although Daring Do could not hear them due to distance. The merchant pointed at a group of passengers, all swaddled in thick cloth to protect them from the sun. The earth-mare smiled and nodded, guaranteeing them passage. To where, Daring Do did not know.

Others took different paths, spreading outward in every direction. A few, somewhat nearer, stood by a large dark-colored ship. It had been sent far from the north, courtesy of the Field Marshal herself. It was crewed by her elite Nightguard, and many of the smaller, sickly thestral mares stared in blushing awe at the impressive hooded thestral soldiers who smiled to them kindly.  

A pair of ponies appeared at Daring's side, both dressed in heavy cloth. One was Honor, his gaze cold and empty, and the other Wisdom, his eyes downcast. He looked utterly broken.

“What will you do?” asked Daring.

“Because of your actions, our home is destroyed,” said Honor. “There is nothing to go back to you.”

“Some will stay,” said Wisdom. “I...I will remain.”

“All alone?”

Wisdom sighed. “There is no place left in the world for me. I know the caves well enough, I don’t think they will be able to drive me away for however long I have left. Honor...”

“There is no reason for me to remain,” he said, coldly. “The old traditions are destroyed. I have nothing left to bind me here.” He pointed at the Nightguard. “I am a soldier. I can be noting else. So I will join them, and preserve what remains of the last thing I retain which is still mine.”  

“And the others?”

“Our society is gone. They will scatter to the wind.”

“There are other thestrals out there.”	

“I see that, Daring. But our home is gone now.”

“It was gone a long time ago,” sighed Wisdom. “We were just too much of fools to see it. I no longer sleep. I keep wondering if...if she was right...”

Daring Do looked out across the way, where she saw Curiosity running and laughing with some of the younger ballast boys and children of the dockworkers. 

“And her?”

“I believed she mentioned sneaking onto an airship. That one, I think." He pointed at one. Daring saw that it was a badly listing banana barge. "The world is open to her now, as it has been for ponies like yourself.” Honor sighed. “I do not know if I should thank you or despise you, Daring Do. You ended our entire culture, but you have freed us as well. Perhaps it is for the better. But this day will always be the saddest of my memory, and I will carry it with me for how long I remain.”  

He nodded to her, and then unceremoniously departed, passing other thestrals. Some staring in wonder, others weeping. Daring Do, likewise, felt sad—but she was not sure if there had ever been a possible good outcome.  

Wun approached her from behind. She was limping, but elegantly dressed and levitating a potted cactus and parasol. “Daring Do,” she said.

“Wun.” 

She pointed up at a luxury liner docking at the nearest spire. “We have tickets aboard that one. It is time to go home.”

Daring looked up at the luxury airship, and then at Wun. “Wun...I’m staying.”

Wun frowned. “Staying, sister?”

Daring Do nodded. “I’m going to stay a little longer. I have a lot of things to think about. And...I think I need to do it alone.”

Wun seemed somewhat shocked, but retained her composure. She nodded. “You have never been alone before, sister.”

“I know. But I think I need to be. At least for a little while.”

“Of course. I shall let father know you will be remaining a bit longer.” She smiled. “Making a choice for yourself. My little sister is growing up, I suppose. When you do return, father and I shall be waiting for you.”

She nodded one more time, and then walked past toward her airship. Daring watched her go, and watched for much longer, even after Honor as Wisdom left.

Much later, she wandered through town and eventually found herself back in the Get Out Inn. The amount Wun had paid had been more then enough for a longer stay. 

Daring looked out the window, toward the south. The sky was alight with the earliest glow of a brilliant scarlet sunset, and the air was already starting to grow cool. She could hear the sounds of patrons moving on the lower floors, the gurgle of the small oasis outside, and the silence of the desert out beyond. In the distance, a sha lifted its head from a termite mound and warbled before departing swiftly into the emptiness.  

Daring sighed, and lifted a blank book, the failed start of a story scribbled out on the first page. She took a quill in her lips, dipped it in ink, and began to write.  










In a particularly luxurious state room abourd a particularly luxurious airship, Wun sat alone and in the near darkness of the room. A potted cactus sat beside her, and she was holding a small glass canister in her grasp, staring into it.  

A knock came to the door.  

“Enter,” she said.

As the door opened, her magic reached out to each of the lamps in the room, lightning them with blue-green fire. Caballeron, steeling himself, entered the room.  

“I trust your new employers are treating you well,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair.  

Caballeron smiled. “To an extent, I suppose, although the position is assuredly temporary. Simply to take account of every artifact present so that they might be brought to a containment institution. Being the only archaeologist who had set hoof in the pyramid, I was placed in charge of creating the manifest.”  

“Meaning?”

“Meaning paperwork, and then I will return to Canterlot to complete my doctorate.”  

Wun smiled coldly. “How wonderful.”

Caballeron, likewise, smiled. He produced a small burlap sack and, from it, produced an enormous octahedral crystal. Wun’s magic wrapped around it as she lifted it from him.

“How excellent,” she said, holding the crystal to the dim light. “And they will be none the wiser?”

“All examples of revenite unfortunately looted millennia ago,” said Cablleron, his smile growing. “It is a terribly unfortunate thing.”

Wun smiled over the crystal, and then passed a small box to Caballeron. Caballeron stared at it, almost looking disgusted—until he opened it and saw the rhenium coin inside.  

“This...this is...” His smile grew. “Adequate.” He lifted it out, finding the second item in the box. A simple rectangle of paper. He raised an eyebrow. “And what is this?”

“My card. Money is a pointless thing that I have a great deal of. I believe this is the start of a fruitful business relationship.”  

Caballeron tucked the card into his shirt pocket. “I will let you know when it is time for the next bid, my dear.”

“Bidding. How impudent.” Wun chuckled. "And do realize that our relationship is purely of a business nature. May your language reflect that. Or you will not be the first earth pony I have...broken." 

Caballeron cleared his throat, then eyed the crystal. “There is no soul in it.”

“There does not need to be. Souls are worthless things, very common. It is the crystal that matters.” She leaned forward, holding out the gem. “In fact, it is probable that most of her memories remain, intercalated into the very structure of the stone. Without a soul, there is nothing to warp the gem should they be accessed. The memories contained in this gem could revolutionize Equestrian magic and technology entirely.”

“And you intend to access them, I suppose.”

“No,” laughed Wun. “Of course not! This is the last piece of its kind. I would never risk damaging it. I intend to place it on a special shelf as the centerpiece of my gem wing, where I shall admire it. Such is the purpose of all artifacts.”  

She set the stone down on her desk, next to the tiny glass canister. A canister that contained something her sister had collected from Seht’s body before her resurrection, something that she had then assumed was mummy bitumen—but was now a caterpillar-like piece of gray, fuzzy tissue that wriggled around the bottle, curiously looking at the gem beside it.  

“The mission was not ideal. But I do not regret it. It was...fruitful.” She smiled broadly, showing her teeth. “The value of what was retrieved is more than enough to compensate.”