II

The sound of my hooves echoed on the cut stone staircase. The descent down the cut spiraling rock was always a powerful experience. Ever since I was a foal, I always treated my father's library as a sacred cathedral, where one steps lightly and speaks little. Every step I made agitated the serene atmosphere, sending the candles writhing in discontentment.

As I entered the hallowed abode, I felt awe-inspired. The artistic skill of the masons responsible for this grandeur was beyond impressive. I always felt enamored in the serenity contained in these walls. A shame that the candlelight could barely illuminate the vaulted ceiling. Hidden under the thin veil of shadow were intricate designs that depicted classical battles and events of yore. Antique bookshelves appeared like saplings between the pillars of cut bedrock. Their masterful cuts were in the classical style, much like architecture found within Cloudsdale.

The smell of musty books filled my nostrils. Each magnificent tome was a unique rarity, exclusive to this catacomb of knowledge. Scrolls and manuscripts from all corners of Equestria were collected by my father. He once told me that my grandfather did the same, such a tradition went back to the beginning of my families lineage. I had also inherited this fascination of collection. The candelabrums adorning the imposing pillars held three candles each. They all flickered in a dance of greeting as I passed by. The library was separated into three adjoining halls, every hall segregated the genres of books. My small work area sat at the center of the mausoleum.

I levitated a candle from the wall and stared into the flame. Its dance was reflected in the pooling wax in burnt in cup. I tilted the candle slightly causing a bubbling waterfall of wax to trail down its length. The drippings dried quickly in the chilled air of the library. The knotted wax line gave it the appearance of a rope hanging from a parapet. A ladder towards a flame, strong and bright. Simple pleasures for a simple mind? Hardly. I raised the glass cage of the lamp atop my desk and pressed the flame against the scant wick, setting it alight. I twisted the feeder, exposing the hungry flame to more of the woven threads of the wick. The fire reciprocated by brightly illuminating my surroundings. I placed the lone candle back into its holder, it was unique amongst its brethren.

The large antique standing clock beside my desk had not been wound in years, and I was scarcely certain it even worked. Although time was not something I concerned myself with, I found it comforting to see whenever I looked up from my studies. The gold embroidered face was frozen in time at 6:10. Much like my life, I was frozen in time, uncared for and unmoving. Shadows danced upon the chaise in the lamplight which sat opposite my desk. The fantastic plush cushioning was once a perfect forest green. Years of my use had now dissolved its velvet into a faded, fern finish. Many nights I had taken meals and even slept within these stone walls. This place which had once been my school and study was now my sanctuary.

I settled into the cushioned bench at my desk. I became focused and went to the task of opening the curious package. The twine looked feeble and badly weathered. Small flakes of dust danced in the lamplight as the cord unraveled. The brittle paper cracked, smelling of wet limestone as I carefully unfolded it.

The small wooden box the paper sheltered was unimpressive, and fared no better for wear. Stains of leakage and disuse riddled its sides and the hinges of its lid were caked in rust. I could not be certain if the poor condition of the box and its wrapping was that of age or poor storage, I was assuming the latter. Turning the wooden box over revealed a faint symbol inked into the base of the box. Pulling the lamp closer I stared into the fibrous wood grain. The more I studied the weathered marking, the more it appeared to darken as if ink was seeping through a screen of silk. The candles flickered as the library seemed to exhale. A chill crept into the heart of my being as I set the box down.

I must have spent an hour sitting at my desk watching the flames dance shadows across the roughly hewn box. My soul grew bolder, intent on exposing the secrets within as I focused my will. Shutting my eyes firmly I tried to pull the lid from its berth, I fought against considerable resistance. The hinges squealed in protest as I pried the lid from its berth. Levitating the lamp closer I peered into the box.

Inside was a scrap of parchment and a key of brass. A single blue jewel sparkled from within the intricately woven handle of the key. From my casual observation the jewel appeared to be a sapphire. Its complex refracting of the lamplight within its heart made it appear to be a pristine cut. The patina lent the key a soft green hue of age, in the glow of the lamp it radiated an almost alien appearance. The key ended in a single tooth, a pattern of intersecting lines in a slanted, makeshift cross. The outer edges of the teeth had sharp notches on either end which seemed to be bent. I could not confirm if it was by design or from use. The key was bound to a chain of tarnished silver. Two small notches were carved at the center of each link. A decorative scoring I presumed.

Placing the key aside I levitated the small, faded scrap of parchment. Scrawled on the parchment was a line of indiscernible text, followed by a series of numbers.

82 28N 62 30W

Writing the approximate location goes against the pledge I swore too. But the circumstances of this chronicle refute my previous convictions. They were coordinates, and I had a vague recollection of a map I had once studied. The numbers were situated in northern Equestria, beyond the mountain range which Canterlot was built upon.

Leaping from my perch I began to run down the channels of manuscripts. My energized flight besmirched the reverence I had upheld with the stones for many years. I focused, casting an elementary spell of radiance. The darkness fled from the light of my horn as I ran to the far end of the library. Turning right, I charged down the opposing row. The candles betwixt the  flared in protest of my intrusion. I hurried down the racks attributed to cartographers and geographic explorers. I scanned the gold embossed titles, looking for a tome inked by a Pegasus who explored the northern reaches.

My apprehension intensified as I scoured the dusty shelves. The volume I pursued was missing. I bitterly cursed, I knew every dusted fold of every tome within this hallowed repository. I could visualize the badly weathered blue cover, its crudely scribed logs which I had dismissed as adventurous fluff. Was it stolen? Or did I misplace it without logging its location within the annals of my mind?

Lost within the trepidation of my investigation I returned to my desk. I sat contemplating the past months events and the correspondence left to me by my sire. The recent events must have affected me more than I was letting myself believe. I had never misplaced something as precious as a unique manuscript from my father's library. It became apparent to me that I must confront my mother. To act as inquisitor, to expose what it was she and father had contracted to withhold from me.

I picked up the key and set the scored chain around my neck. The chain had an unnatural heft, it was not uncomfortable, but I did find it rather curious. How could such a finely crafted succession of links have such a mass? Tucking the key under my vest I looked up at the standing clock to see ebony hands dictating the time as 6:10. I snuffed out the lamplight in a quick exhale. A thin line of smoke coiled upwards, a lone spirit ascending from the catacombs of knowledge. I intercepted the trailing line of smoke with a swipe of my hoof, cutting it in half. It curled, dissipating from my strike, vanishing into the air.

I turned towards the stone cut staircase where I suddenly became petrified. The floor was deadened. My hoofsteps on the polished stone did not emit any sound. The anomalous silence shook me as the rational part of my mind became stupefied. A thousand unnatural horrors thrilled me with every mute step. I felt my head begin to throb in a manner which I had not felt in many years. The candles on the carved pillars began to dim. Their flames dwindled, becoming nothing more than pinpoints of glowing embers. I felt strangulated as the darkness began to encroach around me. I was a lost traveler in the cosmos of faded red stars, frozen in time.

The beating of my heart pounded inside my head. The congregation of percussive beats blurred my vision. The faint outline of the hall began to waver as I struggled to breathe. I could only describe this unrelenting pulse as claustrophobia, an affliction I had no recollection of ever succumbing too before. These symptoms may have been forgotten by my studious mind, but they were all to familiar to the neglect I had subjected my physical form too.

I felt as if the air had been sucked out of the subterranean library, a vacuum seemed to form about me. Morphing my sanctuary into a dimensional universe I became lost within. A sudden vicious gale knocked me to the stone tiles. I began to tremble as the ember starlight was extinguished. My light focused eyes began to adapt to the sudden absence of light. My shallow breaths came out loud, and forced. The towering shelves appeared to lurch over me. Looking down upon me as an insignificant, mindless beast that lay upon the tiled floor. The voice of reason bellowed within me to get away, yet I was numb too its insistence. The unmistakable sound of hoofsteps echoed from deep inside the repository. Pressing my hooves against my ears to dampen the thunderous sound proved fruitless. Tears of pain began to surge, stinging my eyes with their heat. A faint glow emanated in the recess of the spiral stone staircase. The light called out my salvation, yet I could not muster the will to move.

A sudden shriek of unworldly malice shocked my body into action. My legs felt gelatinous and encumbered as I scrambled for footing upon the smooth floors. The hoofsteps became fiercely louder as I clumsily ran. I could feel the breath of a beast upon my neck as I charged up the staircase. The door to the foyer was slightly ajar. The beam of daylight that shone through the outline was Celestial, how pure and safe it appeared. Without stopping, I charged into the foyer of the manor and slammed the door shut.

My legs were trembling from the exertion, or perhaps the fear. I wiped my tear stained eyes as the throbbing subsided. My mind began to push the experience out of existence as it had done since I was a foal. The sting in my temples and the pain in my ears were not so easily forgotten.

The gentle sound of questioned concern rattled me. I looked up to see the same Earth Pony servant whose duty was the general cleanliness of the manor. The other servant was the cook, he scarcely left the confines of the kitchen. Her voice was soft and melodious to my shaken nerves and I began to feel at ease as she stared at me. Flashes of my mother's late night comforts tip-toed upon the edge of my mind. A leaflet from the small book of tender memories, hidden deep inside the void of my mind. Judging from the countenance of my bewildered servant I must have looked a sight. After dismissing her concern I quickly masked myself. It was improper to appear unsettled in the presence of a servant. She looked at me through those auburn eyes, as if seeing through my ruse. I could feel my body temperature rise in the awkward silence. She notified me that a gentlepony from the residence of my mother had come calling. He had come to advise me of her status. Her condition had begun to deteriorate. She was comatose, the doctors feared that she may not endure much longer. I stood against the door, unable at the time to contemplate the impact of this most unpleasant news. Thanking her I quickly excused myself to my chambers.

My hooves felt heavy as I ascended the elegant staircase. I braced myself against the polished oak rail in aid to my shaking legs. It was not long ago that opulent trinkets and collectables were displayed throughout the manor. Long they stood as fixed reminders of my parents social standing. On the passing of my sire and enfeeblement of my mother, I sent nearly everything to auction. Acquiring rare books was more important to me than a hoard of knick knacks. Baubles from a generation of stallions and mares that I could scarcely recollect. The most precious heirlooms had been passed to their respective owners. My sire must have anticipated my distaste for such baubles. His last testament stipulated they were to go to certain friends and family members. The manor felt empty, it was a shadow of its former self without the affluent centerpieces, paintings and elegantly woven tapestries. The furious agitation of my heart began to subside as I reached the top of the stairs. The singular hall was a bleak path of embroidered maroon carpeting. The walls were bare, extravagant paintings and tapestries had once decorated the hall. They too, met their fate on the auction block. They say a stallions home is a reflection of themselves. Was the emptiness I felt inside myself emulated in the surroundings of my dwelling? Perhaps.

Four mahogany doors lined the hallway. They announced their affiliation in the small nameplates engraved in the arching framework. The bath-hall was to the right; the masters chambers just off-center the staircase. The guest suite was parallel to the master bedroom and my chambers upon the far left. I did not occupy the lords room. I cannot answer as to why I chose to leave it vacant.

The halls felt askew as I moved towards my chamber door. I attributed this to my crippled constitution. I entered my chambers, closing the door behind me with a sigh of relief. Locking the bolt was a simple triumph to me, I was safe within my four-walled box. I removed my vest while pouring a pitcher of water into the basin. I soaked my face in the cool waters, calming my shattered nerves. I cursed to myself as the recollection of my servants news came to the forefront of my thoughts. My now comatose mother was the last connection I had to my father's enigmatic confessional.

Gazing into the mirror, I was horrified at the visage looking back at me. Gaunt and disheveled, I appeared to have aged years in a matter of hours. As I peered at myself I was drawn towards the tarnished silver chain around my neck. The scored chain had left a lined impression upon my hide that was sensitive to touch. I attributed the blemish to my ordeal within the library. The event, to my rational mind, was no more than a ridiculous lapse of my common judgment. The entombed sapphire glimmered in the morning sunlight. I became entranced, watching the beams cascade within the masterfully cut pavilion. The dancing light unlocked a long distant memory in an alcove of my mind.

When I was a young foal, my father made it clear that I was prohibited from entering his study. The penalty for disobeying was a plethora of punishments that any young foal would fear. Yet the curiosity of the young bent on discovery and knowledge always prevailed.

I crept from my chambers, making my way down into the cavernous halls of the great library. My father's study was located deep within the darkened corner of the canals. I imagined myself a famous adventurer having just unearthed the ruins of a lost culture as I darted from shadow to shadow. The deeper I ventured, the more a phantasmic chill began to embrace my body. I peered around the edge of a bookcase to see a monolith of mahogany barricading the entrance to my father's study. Patient and unmovable it appeared to me. What treasures it must have hid.

A blast of chilled air pushed me back as the door opened. The candles above me fluttered wildly in the gust. Hot wax from the angered candles dripped upon my snout. I bit my lip to silence the cry that pushed against the walls of my muzzle. A cloaked figure emerged from from the archway. A faint purple glow emanated from under the figures hood as a brass key levitated on a spell. The door closed with a resounding thud. The spellbound key entered the mechanism and twisted quickly. A loud click sounded the lock falling into place. The world was shut out from the knowledge it sheltered.

Shaking my head I looked at the reflection of the key in the mirror. I suddenly felt a renewed zeal. Grooming myself appropriately and donning a fresh vest I left my chambers. I made my way down to the foyer and stood in front of the door that lead to the catacombs of the library. Deep in the corner of the halls sat the ever-patient door of my father's study.