The Chronicles of Daniel Ridge: The Age of Equestria

Daniel's mind was racing. Only minutes ago the father he had known for twenty years had disappeared before his eyes. He could only stare blankly at the book on the floor in the moments after the incident, but now he had to decide his next step.  His father wasn't dead . It was the only conclusion he could accept, the only one he would ever accept. But if so... where was he?

He picked up the book gingerly, taking care not to touch the strange image. It still shimmered and rippled in the soft light. Was his father inside the book? Daniel watched the images with growing distress. If he was there, it did not show, for although the images changed one by one, he could not see any indication of movement within them.  Daniel had tried earlier to call his dad's cell phone, but it never connected, though he tried many times.

Daniel put the book on the countertop and sat on the stool with a heavy thud. Should he follow? Neither of them knew anything about the world inside the book. From what he had seen of it so far, it looked like Earth. Maybe it was a teleportation device that dropped his dad in the middle of the woods somewhere. Maybe his dad had just been dropped only a few miles away, and if he had been able to find a road, hitchhiked. He might already be on the way back. But what if he had been dropped in the middle of nowhere? He hadn't brought any supplies. What if, by not chasing after him, his dad starved, or gotten bitten by a viper, like those from his luggage? Daniel shook his head. No, that wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let it happen.

He had to get ready. A lot of time had already passed since then, and knowing his dad, he probably hadn't eaten on the flight back home. He was probably starving. And it was getting late - he would need shelter. Daniel grabbed his dad's bag off the table. His dad may have been caught unprepared, but he wouldn't. He would have everything they would need. Everything would be fine, he told himself as he ran up the stairs. He would save his dad.

An hour later Daniel ran back down the stairs with an expedition pack filled with gear, and the bag his dad brought back. He had everything he needed for a long hike, with enough dry-food to keep both of them fed for a week. The other backpack was full of technical stuff, and the gear his dad would need for himself - a gps, portable fishing rod, binoculars, first aid kit, etc. Carrying them both was hard, but worth it. If they were going to be out in the wilderness for a long time, then they would both thank him for his insight. Daniel slung the two bags beside the counter and headed over to the front door. He pulled out his key and locked the door, then set the alarm system. He didn't want to come home to find the place robbed. As he headed back to the counter, he stopped, and looked around the room.

This may be the last time he saw this room. He had grown up in this little store, and as the memories of the past flooded over him, he felt his anxiety coming back. There was so many questions, so many things that could go wrong, so many mysteries. The weight of his decision sat heavily on his shoulders. But he was determined, and after one last look around the store, he headed to the counter.

The book still lay where he last saw it. Picking it up, he closed it, and looked it over once again, if only to give him more drive. It was this book that had taken his father from him. He told himself that as soon as the two of them got back, he would burn the fucking thing. As he turned it up and over, he noticed on the back cover a strange symbol, painted with gold. He paid it little attention.

He set the book down on the counter once more and opened it to the page in question. The image still shone, forever changing, forever shimmering in that strange, rippling movement. He stretched, flexed, cracked his knuckles. He slung his bag onto his back and slung the other over a shoulder. It was time.

Daniel slowly reached out to the image, hesitating as his hand drew nearer. A small voice in the back of his head told him to stop, to come up with something else. But he had already begun, and when his fingertips touched the rectangle, he knew it had started.

Daniel felt a strange tingling on his skin first, then a light tugging in the pit of his stomach, like someone had grabbed him by the waist to pull him in. The sensations grew in intensity rapidly, until he skin felt like it was burning, and the tugging became a falling sensation in his solar plexus. His skin and clothes getting brighter and brighter. Daniel felt panic set in with the rest of the sensations as his mind succumbed, but he knew it was too late. In the last moment before he felt his consciousness click out, he felt the floor give out beneath him, and both his body and mind fell into darkness.

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Marcus groaned as he slowly woke up. Only moments ago he had been marvelling at the ancient text he had brought home to his son Daniel. He had touched the strange image he had discovered within it. He remembered the sensation, the horrified look on his son's face, and almost puked. His head was spinning dangerously, and as he tried to pick himself up, he cried out. He knew this feeling . When he landed, he must have broken his arm and been knocked out by the impact. He grimaced - it was going to be a bitch to move around with. Using his good arm he got up and surveyed his surroundings.

Around him were walls of stone, the smooth rock forming a dome above him, where a large crack lightning-bolted up through layers of sediment. Through the crack a small trickle of sunlight came through to illuminate the antechamber. A small onyx-black door at its far end also shed some light through its barred window. As he made to move to it, he noticed a glint from come from below his feet. As he looked down, he gasped. Marcus was standing on a large mural painting; More than that, though, he realized, it was a gear. A massive metal gear ten feet in radius. It seemed to connect to another gear just below the base of the back-wall, where he saw a myriad of large mechanics. As he studied them with a distracted interest, a clacking sound startled him from behind.

Behind the door, Marcus saw someone rush away. Marcus ran over to the door. "Wait! Hold on, let me out of here!" Marcus he shouted. He tried to open it, only to find it locked. The stranger made no indication of hearing,  their steps clacking strangely into the distance. It sounded oddly hollow, and as the sound receded, he swore he heard a second pair of footsteps - was their someone with them? He shouted again, but when there was no reply, he sighed, and backed away from the door.

His lifeline to freedom gone, Marcus turned back to the mural-covered gear. It was a beautiful painting. On one side of the painting, a mob of men stood with open books, books that, Marcus realized with surprise, had the same black rectangle as he had first seen when he found the blasted text. They seemed to be raising both book and hand in praise towards the center of the painting. On the other side, a herd of horses - but they were strange - many had wings, or horns, and were a palette of colors from the brightest of yellows to the darkest of purples, with strange markings on their flanks, each unique to every horse. In the middle of the painting, A great void of stars seemed to separate the two factions, where five men stood with their own books open and raised in a circle. Their books, however, had bright glowing rectangles.  Within their circle, two mares circled each other in a constant, flowing chase. The two mares were clearly unlike the others, as were the five men. One was bright pink, with a flowing mane of light blue-green and magenta hues. On her flank was a symbol of the sun in all its blazing glory. The other was a dark navy blue, with a lighter blue mane. On her flank was a light-grey crescent moon. Both had wings and horns, and were wearing jewelry.  And in the center of it all, a strange symbol was indented into the heavy gear, painted gold.

The mural was clearly important, but in what way? Marcus realized that the mural was somehow related to his work, but in all his years of research, he had never seen any depictions of horses at all. The civilization he was studying came from great underground catacombs.  Horses could not have survived there for any great length of time. So what were they?

As he pondered over the significance of the mural, he  was once again startled by the clacking of the stranger's steps. There was another pair of steps this time - or was it two more? He couldn't be sure, but when Marcus stepped towards the door hopefully, a voice shouted out, stopping him.

"Back away from the door, prisoner!" a voice shouted. Marcus couldn't make out a face or shape through the bars  - He relented, however, when the voice shouted again, louder this time.

He watched impatiently as the stranger fiddled with a set of keys before he unlocked it. The heavy door swung out, and someone stepped into the room. Or trotted, he realized, gasping as many pieces clicked into place and other questions darted up like flies inside his head.

The silver-haired mare shone brightly in the light. She was only just short of his height, with a horn that stretched out from beneath her bangs. Her pure white mane was flowing gently,  though there was no wind.  And on her flank was the symbol from the mural, emblazoned in the same glowing gold.

Her emerald green eyes looked him up and down, and to his surprise she smiled. And then, to his greater surprise, she spoke, in perfect English.

"Welcome" she bowed slightly to him, her smiling growing wider.

"Welcome to Equestria"