The town of Sandpoint is located on the atoll island of Asili, one of the northern islands of Zebrica. Located southeast of Baltimare, Asili was formed by an active volcano in the early years of the world. Having long since been inactive, the crater of the volcano collapsed in on itself, forming an inland bay. Zebrican legend states that it was from this island that Zyryja, the All-Mother, created all life on Equus, and it is where the end of the world will begin.

Sandpoint, the capital of Asili, was built along the western shore of the bay, nestled in the shadow of the Mountain of Mwisho, the highest point on the island and one of the tallest mountains on Equus. Originally a zebra settlement from the mainland, due to its relative proximity with the rest of the civilized world, Sandpoint quickly became a very successful port city. It’s practically the center of all of Equus’ trade, as almost all exports pass through Sandpoint at some point on their journey around the world.

The town has also become a veritable mixing pot of different species. Zebras, ponies, changelings, diamond dogs, griffons, minotaurs, sirens, breezies, sanguinarians, hellsteeds, seaponies, hippogriffs; all species from around the world can be found within the city.

With so many different cultures and languages all mixed up in the same location, communication can sometimes be a problem, as one Lyra Heartstrings was finding out rather quickly.

“Excuse me, can you help me?”

“Ami lisin! El eldne in amuph!”

“If you could just—”

“Sina muda kwa ajili yenu, msichana!”

“Ugh!” Glaring around at the bustling marketplace, Lyra blew a strand of mane out of her face before pushing her pith hat up higher on her head. “This is ridiculous. I just need bucking directions. Is that so much to ask for? Is it?!” A few of the nearby creatures glanced over at her curiously before returning to their tasks. A diamond dog snickered, picking at a tooth with a cracked claw.

“Unbelievable,” Lyra grunted. She rolled her eyes and adjusted her saddlebags before huffing loudly. Turning, she made her way along the street, glancing at the shop signs as she passed. Many of them were written in a different language, but had basic Equestrian written beneath in smaller letters. “General Store, Curses & Spells Bookstore, Hoofington’s Maps and Graphs, Pillbug’s Pantry?” Glancing into the grime-covered windows, Lyra winced before sticking out her tongue. “Ewww, no.”

Taking several steps away from the disgusting shop, Lyra glanced around in growing frustration.

“How hard is it to find one building in this place?” she growled. “I mean, half the shops here are stalls anyways. This is ridiculous!” Feeling a headache growing, Lyra ground a hoof into her temple. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

“Easy, Lyra, easy,” she muttered. “There’s no need to get worked up. It’s not like he’s going to leave without you. You haven’t even paid him yet.” Taking one last deep breath, she opened her eyes and glanced around again. There were several more shops she had yet to look at on the other side of the street, and she immediately made her way towards them. However, as soon as she stepped onto the street, a large vardo thundered past, nearly taking off her hoof in the process.

Lyra jumped back with a yelp, her eyes wide.

Two ponies were sitting up front on the vardo, an ash colored batpony with blue and black striped mane and an elderly, tan earth pony with black mane. Golden letters on the side of the cart proudly proclaimed GYPSY THE TELLER’S MAGNIFICENT STORIES.

The earth pony glared at her as they rolled past, one of his eyes narrowing.

“Stop yer gawkin’ and get out of the way, you brewhiem!” he shouted before spitting on the ground in front of her.

“Hey! I’m walking here!” Lyra shouted back, flipping a hoof at him. She saw the old pony sneer at her while the batpony gave her an apologetic look before the both of them and the vardo disappeared in a dust cloud.

“Bucking dirt-brain,” Lyra muttered under her breath, glaring after the shrinking cloud. Snorting, she shook her head before carefully crossing the street. Upon reaching the other side, she checked the shops there, only to find that none of them were what she was looking for either.

Stomping a hoof in frustration, she groaned loudly. “This can’t be happening. Possibly the biggest breakthrough of my career, and I can’t find a Maker-damned pub! This is a load of—GAH!” With a yelp, Lyra jumped back as a small object darted in front of her face. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust and she was able to make out the small form of a breezie fluttering in front of her face.

The small creature frowned at her before darting forward and bopping her on the muzzle. With that, it zoomed off.

Lyra stood there, gawking for a few seconds before she snarled.

“I don’t need to be happier!” she shouted after the breezie. “I need to find my contact, damn it!” Aware of dozens of eyes now staring at her but not caring, Lyra turned with a huff, intent on finding the guardhouse and asking directions. As she turned, though, she ran face first into something. With a yelp, both of them tumbled to the dusty ground.

Staggering to her feet, Lyra blew dirt from her nostrils and blinked her eyes to try and clear them. Once she could see again, she glanced down to see what she had hit, a crude remark on the tip of her tongue. However, she bit back her retort upon seeing a young zebra mare lying on the ground, clearly dazed.

The zebra had on the traditional robes for an apprentice of the local temple: black and white cloth wrapped around her flank, as well as a white desert scarf wrapped around her neck and head. She had a gold piercing in one of her nostrils, the metal band wrapping snugly around the flesh. A small scar ran from the same nostril up the bridge of her nose towards her forehead. She was young, barely a year or so out of foalhood.

Wincing, Lyra bent down and helped the zebra to her feet. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t looking where I was going. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

The zebra swayed on her hooves, her eyes still rolling slightly in her head. Giving her head a good shake, she glanced up at Lyra with large, green eyes.

“N-no, ma’am,” the zebra said in accented Equestrian.

Despite her assurance, Lyra still eyed the zebra closely, looking for any injuries. The zebra seemed to shrink slightly under Lyra’s gaze. Tail tucked between her legs, she tried to slink around Lyra.

“Hey, wait!” Lyra said quickly, holding out a leg and blocking the zebra’s path. “I think you might be able to help me out here.”

The zebra froze, her eyes widening as her ears fell against her head. If it was possible, her tail pressed harder against her body. Swallowing thickly, she shivered once before turning to look at Lyra. “M-ma’am?”

“I need directions to the Rusty Dragon,” Lyra said, rubbing the back of her head. “I… I’m kinda lost.”

The zebra blinked before her body relaxed completely.

“The Rusty Dragon?” she parroted, her ears perking up. “Ma’am, you’re going the wrong way! The Rusty Dragon is back that way,” she said, pointing back the way Lyra had come. “Just keep going straight until you see the apothecary, and it should be on your right.”

Lyra stared down at the zebra, her ears drooping slightly.

“The wrong way?” she muttered, before tsking. “Figures. Thanks, stripey.” Levitating a few bits out of her saddlebag, Lyra gave them to the bewildered zebra before turning and hurrying off down the street.

Weaving her way through the crowded streets, Lyra kept her eyes peeled for the apothecary. Soon enough, the old, worn-out building loomed up on her left, and she took the next right. Rounding the corner, she breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her destination.

The Rusty Dragon was a large, two-story building with a thatched roof. The building seemed to lean slightly to the right, the wooden beams crooked and mismatched. A large sign was dangled over the door: a dragon wrapped around a pile of gold, etched in the wooden surface. On either side of the tavern were several odd shops, as well as a few cheap brothels.

Lyra stared at the building before her, a blank look on her face. Her golden eyes slowly drifted over the ramshackle tavern. Her right eye twitched. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and sighed explosively.

“Biggest breakthrough of your career, Lyra. Biggest breakthrough of your career,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Go in, find your contact, and get out.” Steeling herself, Lyra stalked towards the seedy tavern, her hooves heavy with every step. A group of stallions standing outside the door leered at her as she approached, only to balk as she glared back at them. Pushing the door open, she slipped inside.

The interior of the tavern was in slightly better shape than the exterior. Dimly lit by glowing gemstones set in the ceiling, the room had a comfortable feel about it. The air inside was several degrees cooler than the air outside. An earthen scent filled the air with a hint of musk that caused Lyra’s nose to crinkle. Tables were scattered around the common room, many of them occupied by various creatures. A collection of tankards from different nations hung behind the bar in the back. Also behind the counter sat a bored-looking hellsteed, her fiery mane crackling softly over the gentle murmur of voices. She was leaning against the bar, one of her heads resting on her hoof. The other head was glancing around the room, eyeing the patrons carefully.

Heads raised as Lyra entered, eyes staring at her with varying levels of interest. After a few seconds most of them returned to their drinks and food, save for a white pegasus mare with a red mane. She was decked out in dark leather armor that clashed with her light colored coat. Sitting in the far corner of the room, she stared at Lyra with a small smirk on her face. Her pink eyes flared briefly with yellow flames before she lowered her head and went back to counting out a bag of bits.

Glancing around coolly, Lyra’s eyes scanned the room before landing on a zebra sitting at the bar, his back to her. He had a dark desert scarf wrapped around his neck, as well as a olive green robe around his body and forelegs. Several gold bands were wrapped around his forelegs, as well as the base of his tail.

Walking carefully through the sea of tables, Lyra made her way towards the zebra.

“Excuse me,” she said as she approached, “but you wouldn’t happen to be my contact, would you? My name is Lyra Heartstrings.”

The zebra picked up his mug and downed the contents in a single gulp. Placing it back on the counter, he spun around on the stool to face her. He had red tribal markings upon his muzzle that ran up to just below his green eyes.

“Yes, indeed, I am the same,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Desert Vagabond is my name. Welcome, Ms. Heartstrings, to our desert land. We have much to offer, such as sand, sand, and sand.”

“Great,” Lyra muttered under her breath. “Just great. This is going to get old fast.” Clearing her throat, she put on a weak smile as she addressed the zebra. “Excellent. I’m sorry it took me so long to arrive, Mr. Vagabond, but it seems I got lost on the way here.”

“Understandable. That’s somewhat normal,” Vagabond said with a nod, “and please, Ms. Heartstrings, no need to be formal. Call me Vagabond, so many do. It’ll be much simpler, especially for you.”

“Right,” Lyra grunted, her ear twitching. “Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’ve come a long way for this, and I’d like to get going as soon as possible. Our mutual friend told me you made a recent discovery?”

“Indeed, what our friend speaks is true,” Vagabond smirked. “I’ve found a remarkable find, just for you.”

“Could you be more specific?” Lyra asked. “I don’t want to get out there only to find out that it’s just another Zebrican temple.”

“Oh, it’s no measly temple, that’s for sure,” Vagabond said as he began to root around in his bags. After a few seconds, he pulled a small pendant out of its depths and dangled it in front of Lyra’s face. “Here’s proof. A necklace of such allure.”

Taking the pendant in her magic, Lyra turned it over and studied the runes etched onto its surface, only for her eyes to widen in shock. The markings were like nothing she had seen before. They weren’t ancient Zebrican, nor any other language she was familiar with. The closest language she could figure was ancient Equestrian, but there had never been any signs of any ancient Equestrian civilizations being found anywhere outside of Equestria.

So, why is this here? Lyra asked herself, slowly spinning the pendant in her magic. After a few seconds, she glanced up at Vagabond, who was giving her a smug look.

“Where did you find this?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Vagabond’s grin grew larger. “I’ll show you.” Getting down off the stool, Vagabond flipped a couple of bits towards the hellsteed. She caught them deftly in her hoof, one head counting out the bits while the other one gave the zebra a sultry wink.

As the pair left the tavern, the stallions grouped outside began to leer at Lyra again. Ears pressed firmly against her head, Lyra stalked past, trying to ignore their jeers and wolf-whistles. Emboldened by the others’ taunts, one of the smaller stallions darted forward and nipped at her flank. Almost immediately, Lyra’s hind leg snapped out, her hoof catching the stallion on the chin. With a ‘crack’, he collapsed into the dust, blood flowing from his nose and mouth.

Wheeling around, Lyra snarled at the rest of the stallions, who stood there with shocked faces. “Yeah! How did you like that? Was that worth it, you bunch of rut-brained imbeciles? Anypony else want some?!” The stallions shied back, and Lyra took a threatening step forward, her horn glowing.

Moving quickly, Vagabond stepped in front of her.

“Do not pick a fight in the street,” he hissed, pushing her back, “unless you want to face defeat.”

“I can take them,” Lyra snarled, but allowed herself to be led away. “They’re nothing but stupid stallions with only one thing on their mind. They need a mare to take ‘em down a few pegs.”

“It’s not them that you must fear, but the ones in golden gear,” Vagabond muttered, still pushing Lyra along. “The noise will surely attract the Guard, and then you’ll be doing time most hard.”

Lyra grumbled to herself, but heeded his words. Turning, she followed Vagabond as he led her down the street.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached the edge of town. Coming to a stop, Vagabond stared out at the vast expanse of desert before them, a smirk on his face.

Lyra moved to stand beside him, a blank look on her face.

“Do we need to buy supplies?” she asked.

Vagabond shook his head. “Nay, I have all the supplies we need. They are all with my faithful steed.”

“‘Steed’?” Lyra asked as Vagabond put a hoof to his lips and whistled shrilly. Almost instantly, the ground beside Lyra exploded in a shower of grit, causing her to leap back with a yelp.

A large, black creature lumbered forth, the sand cascading from its body as it rose from the earth. The air around it seemed to shimmer slightly, the skin on its underbelly glowing orange. It had six legs, each limb ending in a webbed foot with pads on the ends of the toes. Its head was spade-like, with ridges running over its yellow eyes. A pair of reins were held in the creature’s mouth ran along its neck and connected to a large, cushioned howdah strapped to its back. A wooden frame held a light canvas over the howdah, protecting any riders from the harsh sun above. Half a dozen fully-packed saddlebags dangled from the howdah.

Blinking owlishly, the creature smacked its lips before looking at the pair.

“What in the name of Tartarus is that?” Lyra asked stiffly. She crouched down, her horn glowing as she readied a spell.

“She is a salamander, native to this land,” Vagabond said, ignoring Lyra’s aggressive posture, “and when it comes to steeds, she is one most grand.”

“This is our transport?” Lyra asked. The magic around her horn faded, and she gave Vagabond an incredulous look.

“Sasha is the name of this beast, and worry not, she won’t harm you in the least.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lyra grunted, eyeing the salamander with some trepidation.

Laughing softly, Vagabond walked up to the salamander, who bent her neck down to nuzzle the zebra. Grabbing the reins, Vagabond then pulled himself up onto the padded seat.

“Up you come, my dear mare,” he said, offering Lyra a hoof, “unless you’ve decided that you will walk there.”

Lyra glared up at him for a few seconds before, with a sigh, she accepted the hoof. It took some maneuvering, but soon enough, Lyra was seated beside Vagabond atop the salamander.

“Alright, let’s get going,” Lyra huffed, pulling her hat lower over her face to shield it from the sun. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Vagabond shook his head. “Before we venture out into the land of sand and sweat, there is one more thing that we must get.”

Lyra closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying to keep her frustration in check.

“Fine,” she growled, “just make it quick.”

Heat waves wafted up from the hot sand below, causing the very air to seem to ripple like water. With no clouds in the sky to shelter the land, the sun beat down mercilessly. Beneath the canvas cover, Lyra fanned herself with a hoof. Sweat covered her coat, and was making sitting very uncomfortable, especially around a certain… unmentionable part of her anatomy.

“How do you stallions stand it?” she asked, glancing at Vagabond. When he gave her a confused look, she continued, “Being out in heat like this. Don’t your balls stick to your legs or something like that? I mean, it’s bad enough my marehood is practically sticking to the seat. How do you stand it?”

Vagabond gave her a deadpanned look before muttering something under his breath in his native tongue. “Of all the questions you might ask, you pick the one that is most crass.”

“I was just curious,” Lyra grunted, still fanning herself with her hoof.

“Asking a stallion how he stands his cock is like asking a mare how she stands what’s under her dock,” Vagabond huffed. “It’s hard to explain, harder to reveal, just what it is both genders feel.”

“Fine, fine,” Lyra harrumphed. “There’s no need to get snippy about it.”

Silence fell as the salamander continued to trundle along through the sand dunes. The heated sand didn’t seem to bother the creature, her padded feet sinking into the soft material with general ease. Her belly was low to the ground, so low in fact that to an outside observer, it practically looked like the salamander was swimming through the sand rather than walking across it.

Lyra stared out across the vast expanse of sand, her mind wandering through various topics. She was brought back to the real world when a soft chirp behind her caused her ear to twitch. Glancing over her shoulder, she eyed the female human with detached interest.

“Remind me again why we had to bring her along as well?” she asked.

“It’s always wise to bring a human on a journey,” Vagabond said, keeping his gaze forward. “They are good at burrowing and can sense sandstorms early.”

“They can also be very aggressive,” Lyra noted dryly as she turned back around.

“Don’t you worry, don’t you fret. This one is tame enough to be a pet,” Vagabond said as he pulled out a small treat and tossed it over his shoulder to the human. She perked up instantly, catching the treat and immediately devouring it.

“Plus, she can dig quickly through the sand,” Vagabond added as the human licked her hands. “That’ll make this venture go much quicker than planned.”

Lyra stared at the zebra silently. He tried to ignore her, but after a few minutes began to shift around uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Why do you have trouble rhyming?” she asked suddenly.

Vagabond turned and gave her an incredulous look. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, I didn’t notice it at first, but you appear to be having a hard time rhyming,” Lyra said, waving her hoof about. “Back home in Ponyville, we have a zebra that lives on the outskirts of town and she doesn’t seem to have as much trouble as you’re having.”

“I speak in rhyme due to my station, as well as to show my resolve and dedication,” Vagabond said curtly. “All within our Order speak this way, rhyming whenever we have stuff to say.

“Also, the zebra you speak of is my cousin,” he continued, “and yes, I have trouble while she doesn’t. She moved to your land when she was very young, and as for me, Equestrian isn’t my native tongue. So yes, she has an easier time than me. There’s no need to point it out with glee.”

“I wasn’t making fun of you. I was just making an observation,” Lyra huffed, her ears pressing against the back of her head.

Vagabond muttered something under his breath in his native tongue again before the pair fell silent.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, the group only had to stop once or twice at an oasis in order to refill their canteens. The human napped most of the time, curled up in the back of the shelter, far away from the scorching sun.

Lyra tried to keep her mind occupied throughout the journey, even going as far as to pull her journal out and doodle in it. However, even Bon Bon’s inked-in plot could only amuse her for so long before it got old. By the time the sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon, she was trying to keep her temper in check.

“How much longer until we get there?” she growled.

Wordlessly, Vagabond pointed towards the horizon with a hoof.

Squinting her eyes, Lyra could just barely make out a structure in the distance, almost invisible against the setting sun behind it.

“A few more hours left to wait until we reach the ruin’s gate,” Vagabond said as he pulled on the reins. The salamander snorted before slowing to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Lyra asked, giving him a bemused look.

“We’ll camp here for the night, and continue on at dawn’s first light,” Vagabond replied. Reaching down, he began to search through one of the saddlebags.

“What? Why? The ruins are right there. You said it yourself, we’ll be there in a few hours!”

“It gets very cold at night,” Vagabond said, grunting as he pulled out a bundle of wood, as well as some flint and steel. “We’ll rest until the warmth of the sun’s light. It’ll be safer this way, my dear mare. Tomorrow, your ruins will still be there.”

“Are you kidding me? Are you bucking kidding me?!” Lyra growled, her right eye twitching. She could feel a vein beginning to pulse in her forehead, and she massaged her temple with a hoof to try and fight off her growing headache. “You drag me all the way out here through the heat and the sun and the sand, dangle the very thing I came hundreds of miles to find in front of my face, only to tell me ‘no’? That’s not how it works! I am paying you. Do you understand that, stripey? I am the one paying you for this expedition. I’m in charge, and I say we’re are not stopping until we are at the ruins!” Lighting up her horn, she grabbed the reins from Vagabond’s grasp and, with a quick flick of magic, snapped them.

The salamander squawked as the reins slapped against her neck, the sudden blow causing her to lurch forward. She took a half dozen steps before Vagabond managed to grab the reins back from Lyra.

“Don’t do that again,” he growled, eyes narrowing, “or the next time will be your end.” Reaching down, he gently massaged the salamander’s neck with a hoof.

“Then get this overgrown lizard moving!” Lyra snarled. “I told you, we’re heading for the ruins, weather be damned!”

Weather isn’t the only threat,” Vagabond hissed. “There’s naga, or worse, their pets. And should you want to test your mettle, you might just meet the blasted devil.”

“You superstitious bastard! There’s nothing between us and the ruins. Just empty desert as far as the eye can see!” Lyra shouted, waving her hoof out across the horizon.

“If that is what you think, then you’re a fool,” Vagabond said coldly. “Even now there could be a desert ghoul. You hired me to show you this place, but to also try and keep you safe. If you were smart, you’d heed my warning, lest you want your friends back home to fall to mourning.”

“Buck this!” Lyra snarled. “I know where the ruins are. I don’t need you anymore!” With that, she jumped down off of the salamander’s back. Landing in the sand with a soft ‘thump’, she dashed off towards the ruins in the distance, just barely visible as the last bit of the sun sunk beneath the horizon.

“You… you… farasi kijinga!” Vagabond shouted. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed the reins and spurred the salamander forward, giving chase. The human chirped loudly, clinging to the saddle as they lurched along.

“Buck off!” Lyra shouted back over her shoulder. “You can stay here and cower like a little filly if you want to.”

“Has all sense left you head?!” Vagabond shouted after her. “You can’t make the discovery if you’re dead!”

“Nothing bad is going to happen, you paranoid bas—GAH!”

Lyra’s hoof twisted to the side as the sand beneath her suddenly shifted. She collapsed as the sand around her depressed, sinking into the earth. A deep groan reverberated throughout the dunes, causing the ground to shudder. Sand dunes shifted before, with a loud ‘crack’, the sand beneath Lyra fell away, and she plunged into the earth with a shriek.

Lyra laid there, groaning in pain as the world around her seemed to spin uncontrollably. Her head was throbbing, feeling like thousands of angry hornets were loose within her skull. She was half buried in a mountain of sand, the gritty material sticking to her sweat-coated fur. Her mane was a mess, and her hat was missing, as were her saddlebags.

Far above her, Vagabond peered down through the giant hole that had appeared. Sand still spilled down the edges of the hole, hissing as it fell away into the darkness.

“Are you still alive, brewhiem?” Vagabond called down, his voice echoing.

Lyra groaned, kicking her forelegs weakly.

“Do you still think that I’ve lost my mind?” he snarked.

“Buck… you…” Lyra gasped, glaring up blearily towards the hole.

“Stay where you are, you stupid mare,” Vagabond shouted. “I’ll get some rope and then be right there!” Turning, he disappeared from view.

Groaning again, Lyra shook her head, only to wince as the pounding grew worse. She waited a few seconds for the pain to recede before attempting to move again. Gritting her teeth, she began to slowly extract herself from the mountain of sand. It was slow going at first, but she was finally able to pull one of her hind legs free. After that, the second one was far easier.

Yanking it free, Lyra teetered slightly before she lost her balance and tumbled down the hill with a yelp. Collapsing at the foot of the sand hill, she groaned and clutched her head.

“I told you to stay still,” Vagabond chided from somewhere above her. “You might have injured yourself in the spill.”

Cracking open her eye, Lyra peered upward. The zebra was slowly descending towards her, sliding steadily down a long, sturdy rope. Another coil of rope was wrapped around his chest, and a pair of saddlebags were strapped to his back. Raising her gaze higher, she saw the rope he was using was pulled taut against the edge of the hole. It swayed back and forth as Vagabond descended from above but other than that, it held firm.

“What do you have that tied to?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. Reaching up, she rubbed the side of her face. Her hoof came away bloodied. “Great,” she growled under her breath before wiping it on her chest.

“Sasha agreed to hold the rope,” Vagabond said as he reached the bottom of the rope. “Her neck is strong enough to cope.” Eyeing the five foot drop to the ground below, he relaxed his grip and dropped.

Lyra winced at the sound of Vagabond’s hooves striking the stone floor. Gritting her teeth, she struggled to stand, swaying as her head throbbed again.

“That gash looks quite painful,” Vagabond said, wincing as he eyed the side of her head. “Luckily, though, it won’t be fatal. I can patch you up here real quick. Hold still please, just wait a tick.”

“I’m fine,” Lyra growled, swatting his hoof away. Glancing around, she tried to peer through the darkness. “Where are we?” A loud ‘clack’ followed by a shower of sparks came from behind her, and a few seconds later a dull orange light filled the cavern. Glancing around, Lyra blinked up seeing Vagabond standing there, two lit torches in his hoof.

“I was prepared,” he said smugly.

Lyra grunted in annoyance before lighting up her horn and grabbing one of the torches. Lifting it high over her head, she glanced around at the room they now found themselves in. Spying her saddlebags a few feet away, she levitated them over and strapped them back around her barrel. With that, she returned her attention to the room.

The ceiling loomed far above them, nearly two stories high. A large hole in it—through which Lyra had plunged—opened up to the world above. Stars shone down through the hole as well as a light breeze that stirred the musty air. Large stone pillars held the ceiling up. Pictures had been etched into the stone’s surface, many of them faded to the point where they were unrecognizable. Off to one side, a wall was visible. Rectangular holes were cut into the wall, almost all of them sealed by a stone cap.

“Any clue what we’re seeing?” Lyra asked Vagabond as her eyes drifted around the scene before her. When no answer came, she glanced at the zebra.

He was standing there, a look of dawning horror on his face. The torch trembled in his grasp, the flame dancing back and forth erratically.

“What?” Lyra asked, giving him a bemused look. “What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t be here, not in this room,” he said in a whisper, his voice hoarse. “We must leave at once, for this is a tomb.”

“A tomb?” Lyra echoed, glancing around again. “How can you tell?” She took several steps forward, only to jump when Vagabond shouted.

“Stop! Not another step!” he cried, the panic clear in his voice. “What you are doing, it is an act of contempt!”

“Please, they’re dead,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes. “I highly doubt they care who walks through their dusty halls.”

“You have already ignored my advice,” Vagabond hissed, his ears folding back against his head, “as well as my warning. But please, do not desecrate this place of mourning.”

“Nopony has mourned here in centuries,” Lyra huffed, turning to glare at Vagabond. When the zebra didn’t relax his stance, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Tell you what. I’ll pay you double if you pull that stick out of your flank and we explore this place.”

Vagabond chewed on his bottom lip as he shifted from hoof to hoof. After a few seconds, he whimpered before taking a tentative step forward.

“There you go,” Lyra smirked before turning and heading further into the room.

“Despite your joy, this is wrong,” Vagabond muttered. “This is a place for the dead, we do not belong.”

“You need to relax,” Lyra scoffed as the pair walked along. “Nothing bad is going to happen from us exploring this place. What, you think a bunch of skeletons are going to emerge from their tombs and attack us?”

“You do not know of what you speak,” Vagabond said weakly. “This land has a way of weeding out the weak.”

“We’ll be fine,” Lyra sighed. “If worse comes to worse, I’ll teleport us back here and we’ll climb up the rope and escape. Okay?”

Vagabond whimpered again, but nodded all the same.

Pillars passed by as the pair ventured further into the temple, shadows dancing in time with the torches’ flickering flames. Vagabond kept close to Lyra, his steps timid and shaky, almost like he was afraid that a single misstep would be the end of them.

The pair had barely been walking for a minute when a wall suddenly loomed up at them from out of the gloom. Strange symbols covered the stone surface, looking like dozens of vines and roots twisting and turning together in a chaotic mass. Decorative stone flowers emerged from the writing coil of vines, with different colored gems inlaid in the center of each.

Holding the torch up higher, Lyra’s eyes narrowed only to widen when she spied a doorway in the wall. A smile grew on her muzzle, only to slowly morph into confusion as she neared the door. There, hung over the lintel of the door, dangled three pony skulls. From the shape of them, Lyra could tell that they had once belonged to an unicorn, an earth pony, and a pegasus, all of them mares. The unicorn skull was in the center, and had five stars carved into the skull just above the horn. The earth pony had five flowers etched into hers, and the pegasus skull had two lightning bolts.

Lyra eyed the skulls, her muzzle scrunching up. “What are these doing here?”

“Pony skulls in a tomb of the dead? Why are you mystified with these three heads?” Vagabond asked as he slunk up beside her.

“That’s just it. Pony skulls.” Lyra said, eyeing the skulls. “Equestria didn’t start trading with Sandpoint until around five hundred years ago. This tomb seems a lot older than that, no? Plus, there’s the style in which they are hung.” Vagabond gave her a confused look, causing her to motion towards the skull. “This was a common burial practice for ancient Equestrians, one that was usually reserved only for those of the highest honor. Nobility, paladins, knights that had done great deeds. They would be buried, and three of their closest friends, upon their deaths, would have their skulls mounted over the entrance to the tomb. Set there, to forever watch over the resting place, guarding it from evil spirits.”

“Evil spirits?” Vagabond asked, ears splaying back.

“Windigos, mostly,” Lyra said, still eyeing the skulls. “It was believed back then that a windigo could possess the deceased’s body and stalk other ponies and eat them. The three companion spirits would chase the windigo off before it could take possession of the body though. Or so the stories go.

“What gets me though, is the fact that they are here,” Lyra said with a frown.

“So they have been put to rest,” Vagabond said. “Why does this cause you such distress?”

“Because, this type of burial fell out of style over three thousand years ago, back before the Great Split. When the three tribes got back together again, the practice didn’t return as it was viewed as barbaric. So either the ponies of Sandpoint used this same method, which would be a very, very big coincidence, or…” Lyra trailed off, her eyes drifting slowly over the wall.

“Or what?” Vagabond asked after several seconds of silence.

“Or this tomb predates Sandpoint,” Lyra replied, scratching her chin.

Vagabond snorted, holding back his laughter. “That’s impossible! Ludicrous! It can not be. Before we arrived, there was no life as far as the eye could see.”

“The Everfree is said to have been paradise on Equestria at one point,” Lyra said, her gaze returning to the skulls. “Is it so hard to believe that the same could have been for Sandpoint?”

Vagabond’s smile fell, replaced instead by a look of contemplation, his brow furrowing.

Giving the skulls one last glance, Lyra then passed beneath them and through the doorway. A quick glance around informed her that she had just entered a burial chamber. The room was smaller than the main one, only twenty feet wide by fifty feet deep. The ceiling was only just visible through the gloom, the torchlight barely reaching it. At the rear of the chamber, nestled between two pillars, was a large, stone sarcophagus. Twin stone pegasi sat atop the sarcophagus, facing in opposite directions with their wings spread wide, the tips touching. Like the rest of the tomb, the walls and ceilings of the room were covered in carved pictures, most of which were worn. Several dozen clay jars—some of which were shattered—were grouped around the sarcophagus. Dust and sand covered everything.

As Lyra moved further into the room, Vagabond poked his head through the door.

“This tomb is not Zebrican design,” he said, glancing around. “It looks more like a sanctum or shrine.”

Holding her torch up higher, Lyra studied the sarcophagus closer. A large crack ran down the center of the lid, and one of the corners was missing completely. She tried to peer into the stone coffin, but was unable to see through the darkness. With a huff, Lyra’s eyes narrowed in annoyance before flicking over to her torch. She angled it, holding it over the opening, and used a spell to protect herself from the heat. With that, she glanced inside the sarcophagus.

Vagabond growled. “I don’t care how much you’ll have me paid. Don’t disturb that pony’s grave!”

“It’s not a pony,” Lyra grunted, her head tilted at an odd angle. “It’s a mother-bucking human!”

“A human? Surely you jest!” Vagabond said, looking at Lyra in astonishment. “Three thousand years ago, they did not exist!”

“Look for yourself,” Lyra said, moving her head back and motioning him forward.

Being careful of the flames, Vagabond crept forward and, with lingering trepidation, peered cautiously into the sarcophagus. Inside were indeed the skeletal remains of a human. It was positioned with its head near the missing corner, arms crossed over its chest. Jewelry adorned the skeleton: golden bracelets around the skeletal wrists, as well as a ruby necklace.

As Vagabond continued to examine the human remains, Lyra glanced up at the wall behind the sarcophagus. She blinked in surprise before grabbing Vagabond’s torch from his hooves and lifting it into the air.

A large stone tablet—spanning from floor to ceiling—rested behind the sarcophagus. Runes ran around the border of the tablet, the same writing that had been on the amulet that Vagabond had shown her. Past the runes—etched in the center of the tablet—was a mural. The edges were smoothed down with age, but the center still held some detail. It showed a human female standing with her arms outstretched and her face pointing upwards. Around her feet was a group of ponies, their faces pointed up as well. Far above the human, spread out across the tablet, was a series of curved lines, eight in total.

Lyra continued to stare blankly up at the tablet for several seconds before a large smile slowly started to spread across her muzzle.

“Jackpot,” she breathed. Not taking her eyes off of the mural, Lyra stepped up on top of the sarcophagus and approached the tablet.

Vagabond’s head jerked up and squawked in alarm.

“What are you…!?” he began to shout, only to trail off when he saw what Lyra was staring at.

Grinning like a madpony, Lyra reached into her saddlebags with her magic and pulled out some parchment and a stick of charcoal.

“Come to Heartstrings,” she giggled, hovering the parchment towards the tablet.

“Stop! Don’t touch the stone,” Vagabond hissed. “This is one action I can not condone.”

“What?” Lyra asked, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m just gonna take a rubbing of the runes!”

“Look, don’t touch. That’s my order’s way!” Vagabond growled. “Put the scroll and stick away.”

“What did you think was going to happen when I hired you?” Lyra asked with a glare. “I’m an archaeologist. I study ruins and tombs such as these for a living. This is part of my job.” Turning, she took another step towards the tablet, only to stumble as Vagabond reached out and grabbed her hoof.

“Insufferable farasi!” he shouted at her.

“Either I get a rubbing of the runes or I take the tablet with me,” Lyra snarled, yanking her hoof free. Her horn glowed brighter as she pressed the parchment against the stone. “One way or another, I’m getting—”

The moment the parchment touched the stone tablet, the world dissolved into chaos.

The hairs on Vagabond and Lyra’s coats stood up on end as the very air seemed to hum with magic. The table vibrated, shaking the walls and ceiling of the room and causing a cascade of dust and stone to begin to rain down upon the pair. The runes and etchings on the tablet began to glow bright turquoise as sparks danced up and down the stone.

Lyra tried to take a step back, but found she couldn’t move; it was almost as if her hooves were glued to the floor. Glancing down, a look of horror crossed her face when she saw turquoise lines running across the lid of the sarcophagus and anchoring to her hooves. The lines slowly began to twine their way up her legs, and the smell of burning fur quickly filling the musty air.

Glancing behind her, she saw that Vagabond was in the same situation she was in, lines of magic holding him steadfast.

“What have you done?!” he shouted, the whites of his eyes showing.

Lyra opened her mouth to inform him that she had done nothing, but before the words could leave her mouth, the humming noise suddenly increased. Her eyes widened in alarm as the strands of her mane began to drift weightlessly through the air. A sharp pressure began to well up behind her horn, causing sparks to leap from the tip. Her earrings began to buzz loudly, vibrating against the skin of her ear. A feeling of weightlessness overtook her before a bolt of magic launched from the center of the mural and right into her left eye.

Time seemed to slow down. The magic lightning entered Lyra’s head through her eye and coursed through her body before exiting via her right hind leg. It arced through the air before slamming into Vagabond’s eye as well. It ran through his body, causing the golden bands around his legs and tail to explode, before grounding itself through his hind legs.

In that brief moment of time, the entire room seemed to light up as though it was suddenly daytime. Lyra could see every detail of the room, every nook and cranny illuminated by the turquoise magic flowing through her body. Then the moment was over and time started flowing again. With a deafening ‘crack’, the world around Lyra exploded.

Lyra found herself standing in a void, nothing but darkness around her. Wind howled around her, carrying with it the sound of wordless shrieks.

Pressing her ears against her head, Lyra staggered backwards a few steps before her flank suddenly slammed into something hard. She whirled about, only to come face-to-face with a statue of a human. It was carved completely out of black marble, with white veins running through the material. The statue was faceless, blank marble replacing the usual features.

Confusion growing, Lyra stared at the statue for several seconds before glancing over its shoulder. Several more statues stood behind the first one. As she watched, the darkness began to recede, revealing more and more statues, each in a different pose. Several of them had been smashed, the rubble lying in piles on the ground.

Without warning, one of the statues began to glow, then another, then another, until all of them were glowing a sickly yellow.

Taking a step back, Lyra whinnied loudly when her flank once again bumped into something. Wheeling, she froze upon seeing what was behind her.

Standing behind her was the tallest human she had ever seen. Standing nearly seven feet tall, he towered over her. Another human, almost identical to the first but much smaller, sat upon the larger human’s shoulders. The pair of them gave Lyra an alarmed look, the big human taking several steps backwards.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, causing Lyra’s eyes to widen.

“What the buck?!” she yelped, causing the human to jump. Before either of them could speak again, more humans began to phase into view: a blond-haired human male, covered in blood and wearing a pit fighter’s harness; a large, ebony-skinned human male wearing a weird neon-yellow vest and a hardhat; a thin human female with a shaved head; a skinny male with long black hair and a gaunt face; twin human females, one with long red hair, and the other with short; a mustached male wearing a red shirt and hat. More and more humans appeared from the darkness, and with each new one, one of the statues shattered. The humans glanced around, confusion, fear, and wonder on their faces.

Lyra opened her mouth to say something—anything—when something grabbed her around the throat and lifted her into the air. A pair of burning red eyes filled her vision, and she gagged as the force tightened around her neck.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” a voice boomed. “YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE, YOU STUPID PONY!”

“I just—” Lyra managed to wheeze out before a large paw flew out of the darkness and struck her across the face. Stars exploded in front of her eyes as the force around her neck disappeared. With a gurgled cry, Lyra spun off into the darkness.

As Lyra slowly returned to her senses, she was dimly aware of the fact the whole world seemed to be shaking. Lifting up her head, she cracked open an eye and glanced around blearily.

The room was falling apart around her. Bits and pieces of the ceiling were falling down around her, some chunks as big as her head. Large cracks ran up the pillars, which were beginning to crumble under the pressure of the collapsing ceiling. The mural was now nothing more than a smoking pile of rubble, the tablet now destroyed.

Staggering to her hooves, Lyra barely had enough time to hobble out of the way before a large chunk of stone ripped free from the ceiling and smashed into the sarcophagus, destroying it. Head pounding and vision swimming, she tried to get her bearings. Vagabond was still passed out nearby, blood oozing from a gash across his forehead.

Lyra stared blearily at him for a few seconds before shaking her head and staggering forward. She tried to lift the zebra’s body with magic, but her horn just fizzled and sparked.

“Oh, buck this,” she groaned before leaning down and shakily pulling Vagabond across her back. She shifted his body around, only to grunt—her tail tucking firmly up against her belly—as she felt a rather… intimate part of his anatomy come in contact with hers.

“Sorry,” she growled as she readjusted him, “but Bon Bon said… uff, no threesomes. Especially not with a stallion!” When Vagabond was in a better position, Lyra turned towards the door but a loud, sickening ‘crack’ above her drew her attention upwards. The entire ceiling buckled suddenly, caving in upon itself as the weight of the sand above it proved to be too much.

Eyes widening, Lyra swore before making a mad dash for the door. Still feeling out of sorts, she stumbled and weaved along like a drunkard, narrowly avoiding falling bits of debris. An explosion of dust and rock followed her out the door as the burial chamber was sealed beneath the rubble.

The main chamber was in the same state as the previous one, pillars cracking and collapsing as parts of the room fell in upon themselves. Sand flowed through the cracks like water, slowly burying the room under thousands of pounds of dirt.

Lyra ran along, her hooves slipping and sliding over the sand-covered ground. She had to constantly pull her hooves free of the sand, trying to keep herself atop the growing floor of sand that was steadily rising. Still, she struggled along, trying to escape being buried with the collapsing tomb. Having lost both torches back in the burial chamber, the only light—and thus Lyra’s current destination—was the dim moonlight that was streaming through the gaping hole through which they had entered the tomb.

Arriving underneath it, Lyra quickly pulled on the rope that Vagabond had left dangling down into the room. The sand had risen high enough that several feet of the rope were now coiled, half-buried in the dirt.

Moving as quickly as her trembling hooves would allow, Lyra quickly tied the end of the rope around herself and Vagabond before beginning to haul herself upwards hoof over hoof. She strained under the added weight the zebra added, the stallion being heavier than he originally looked. Her muscles were burning after only a few feet, yet still she pressed on.

I can’t die here! she growled mentally as she continued to pull herself and the zebra upwards. If I do, I’ll never hear the end of it from Bon Bon, and while her ‘I-told-you-so’ face is adorable, it’s not worth it!

She had just about reached the top of the rope when her hooves finally began to give out and she began to slide backwards. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip, trying desperately to hold on. She pulled her body upwards a few inches, her legs trembling horribly before, with a forlorn cry, the rope slipped from her hooves. Before she could fall backwards into the churning sea far below, a hand shot out and wrapped around her leg.

The human female leaned over the edge of the hole, one hand grasping Lyra’s leg, the other holding tightly to the rope. As Lyra watched, the human growled before slowly yet steadily lifting both her and Vagabond upwards. In just a few short seconds, both equines were out in the open air of the desert. The human pulled them away from the growing hole, carrying them to solid ground.

Lyra groaned as the human laid her down in the cold sand and undid the rope keeping her and Vagabond together. Sasha immediately trundled over and nuzzled the unconscious form of Vagabond, nosing the zebra gingerly.

Groaning again, Lyra pushed herself into a seated position, wincing as sand got into a very uncomfortable place. However, she didn’t really care at the moment. She was just glad that she hadn’t become the next occupant of the tomb.

A low rumble in the distance drew her attention, and she glanced up only to have her ears fold backwards as she watched the original ruins they had been heading towards sink into the desert as well.

“Damn it,” she sighed as she watched her ticket to history sinking into the sand. “They must have been connected somehow.” She sighed again before shaking her head. “If Vagabond didn’t want me taking a rubbing of a worn tablet, he’s definitely not going to like losing a whole temple.” Silence fell as Lyra sat there, rubbing her head and trying to stop her pounding headache.

After a few minutes, she glanced up, only to start when she saw the human was kneeling in front of her, watching her closely.

“What?” Lyra snapped, causing the human to cock her head to the side. “What do you want? Food? I don’t have any. Go graze on some grass or something!” She motioned towards some desert grass growing nearby, but the human just glanced at the grass before returning her attention back to Lyra.

“Great,” Lyra huffed, lowering her head. “Stupid, dumb anim—”

“Grass?”

Lyra froze, her eyes snapping wide open. With growing trepidation, she slowly lifted her head and stared at the human. “W-what?”

The human cocked her head to the other side before chirping softly. “Grass?” As Lyra continued to stare at her in shock, the human rolled the word around her mouth. “Grass… grass…? grass… grass…? grass… grass…? grass… grass…? grass… grass!”

The human talking in front of her, as well as the rest of the day’s events proved too much for Lyra. She swayed slightly, her vision wavering before, with a sigh, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she promptly fainted.