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"Source." Entry One.
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>The moonlight streamed through the jungle canopy, falling gently upon the cracked and worn flagstone, masonry that had seen the pass of millenia and been undisturbed by little more than by creeping undergrowth and creatures seeking shelter.
>All that could be heard in the night seemed to be the peaceful gurgle of a nearby stream and a chorus of insects, singing their way through the darkness, if it could truly be said to be dark that night.
>And so it was that a lone pony could see her path clearly, not that she needed the assistance of course, as every so often, the mare would lick her lips and click her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
>It was in this way that she could find her way easily, no matter the level of light around her. Her clicking just another sound lost within the night.
>She stepped lightly, almost cautiously, afraid to upset the careful balance held here.
>Apart from the clicking of her tongue and the ever present ‘clip clop’ of the pony’s hooves, she made not a single sound.
>Not a sigh, not an exhale of exhaustion nor any other expression of sound beyond that which was necessary.
>Around her, the ruins lay still. The uninitiated would call them primitive compared to pony architecture, little more than an oddity to be studied.
>However, beyond surface lay simple elegance and careful consideration.
>The result was what could be described as a shrine by the more superstitious, although such superstitions held weight in a world such as this.
>Glyphs and runes had been carved carefully into each of the stones used in the building of this structure, and it was anypony’s guess as to whether they held centuries old enchantments.
>None of this was the mare’s concern, she was no unicorn, and such musings were not why she’d been drawn to that place.
>No, what drew her there was the centrepiece of the structure.
>For in the middle, worn from disuse, yet still intact, lay a device of sorts.

>Several stone arms branched out from a central obelisk, each one adorned with reflective metals, sadly fogged over from disuse.
>Although, the mare had come prepared for this and set about polishing each one to a silver sheen with a cloth, her leathery wings holding her aloft as she silently carried out her task.
>She polished until she could see her soft white coat and dust brown mane, lambent orange eyes surveying her work.
>Stowing the cloth back in her saddlebag, she gazed upon the device, narrow pupils darting this way and that, checking for any that she may have missed.
>Of course, she had not missed any and the mare gave one of the arms a gentle push, the sound of grinding stone belying the smoothness with which the arm rotated.
>It was as though the device had been built yesterday, rather than thousands of years ago.
>Satisfied, she quietly sat, releasing herself of the burden of her heavy saddlebags, removing a journal from its depths.
>The leather binding was well worn, and the edges paper scraps stuck out at odd angles.
>She opened it and flicked through its pages silently, searching for a particular passage.
>Moving over to the dais, the bat pony set down her journal, open on a page displaying glyphs and runes, much like the ones carved into the structure, along with a diagram of the device before her, although only roughly sketched with a few inaccuracies here and there.
>In a sight anypony would call the model of efficiency, the mare produced a small page and began to sketch a new image, adding in those things that had been missed.

>She then attached it to the page with a paperclip and read over her notes again.
>The mare would glance between her notes and the runes carved onto the dais, as though comparing.
>After a painstaking inspection of the device, the bat pony began to work.
>It was an odd place to put such a thing, deep in the jungle, but it was no accident that it was there.
>For here, in this jungle valley, the weather would behave on its own, much like Equestria’s Everfree Forest.
>In fact, there were many places on Earth where the weather wasn’t expressly controlled.
>Behaving on its own, here, however, meant that the moon was never shrouded at night.
>This place was essentially a puzzle, placed here deliberately.
>The mirrors of this device were meant to focus and reflect the moonlight, although on to what, she did not know.
>Yet.
>However, there was one thing that was needed first.
>Within the obelisk sat a receptacle with very specific dimensions.
>Reaching below the neckline of her vest, the little pony drew forth a thin golden chain, at the end of which sat a decently sized, expertly crafted amethyst.
>It had been carved into the shape of a diamond. She removed it reverently from the chain and placed it in the slot, a slight click sounding off into the night as it snapped into place.
>The moonlight was meant to reveal something when shone through the priceless artifact, although she was still not sure what.
>She did have an idea, though, and it was with that thought in mind that she proceeded to position the mirrors in a specific way.

>From her notes, it seemed as if she needed to align certain symbols with certain mirrors, and to the end, there were several pillars surrounding the device, all adorned with a range of symbols.
>They were not from any specific culture, rather, there were symbolisms of all of Earth’s cultures, and even a few she didn’t recognise.
>The construction of the device itself was definitively Zebrican, though.
>She aligned each mirror with a certain symbol, banking on the theory that this particular puzzle could be cracked by following the ancient Zebra’s interpretation of life cycles.
>Beginning from the top down, she arranged each arm so that it reflected light based on certain symbols.
>Rising sun, sprouting seed and an upturned hour glass.
>The apex sun, plant sapling and running sand.
>The setting sun, ripe fruit and the last grains of sand.
>Each of the nine arranged mirrors caught the moonlight and reflected it towards the precious stone, the light passing through, refracting and rebounding.
>The result was a strong beam of light that shone upon a certain symbol, however, this symbol lay upon one of the flagstones.
>Moving over to it, the mare pulled a blank piece of paper from her journal and carefully placed it over the rune, producing a piece of charcoal, she began to trace it onto the paper before switching to a finer pencil, enlarging it as a sketch.
>She compared her work to that of the carved glyph and nodded with satisfaction, taking her journal back to her saddlebags, strapping the heavy load back on to her flanks.
>The night continued silently as she tidied up, moving the arms of the obelisk to random positions and reclaiming the amethyst from the slot.
>As quietly as the mare had arrived, she left, leaving the device and its shrine to peaceful slumber, as though she had never been there.

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13th may, 1049

The first glyph required for the Sequence has been revealed. However, the exact number and nature of glyphs needed remain obscured, it seems as if somepony did not want this trail to be followed, or went to great lengths to make following it a challenge.

Perhaps it would be seen as a rite of passage. Regardless, the headaches I am experiencing have only grown in number and intensity, but it would seem that I am getting used to it. A side effect of the stone’s attunement with the Source, perhaps.

Whatever the case may be, the exact nature of the Sequence and the Source remain a mystery. I only have one glyph in my possession, so that is not to be unexpected. Other sites across the world may hold more answers, more than likely, however, they will only bring up more questions.
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