The Call of Chaos

“We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should venture far.” -H. P. Lovecraft

Time Tuner sprang up from his slumber, eyes open wide and heart racing. He stared in the darkness of his bedroom, taking in short, choppy breaths as cold sweat poured down his face. He’s eyes darted around the darkness, desperately attempting to see into the blackness of his room. As the familiar setting started to sink in, his breathing became to calm and he lowered his head.

Another night, another horrific nightmare.

For the past several nights, it was all he seemed to see in his sleep. Shadowy horrors dancing in his mind and soulless ebony eyes piercing his brain with scorching-hot daggers came to him every time he closed his eyes. But such monsters were nothing compared to the puppet master of them all. Colossal and terrible, the obsidian mass caused the earth to quake with every might tread of his taloned feet. Slowly, the titan had moved towards him and, despite Tuner’s best efforts to escape, inched ever closed with ever mightier steps until…

Tuner shuddered in the warmth of his blankets. The mere memory of that horrible crimson eye was enough to cause his heart to begin racing once more. All the other characteristics of the obsidian mass seemed to pale compared to that infernal eye. Burning like a bonfire and seeing into the deepest depths of Tuner’s soul, the single black slit cutting his mind in two, the image itself was almost too much for Tuner to bear.

Shaking off the blankets of him, Tuner got onto his hooves and made his way to the bathroom. On his way out, he glanced at one of the several clocks that dotted the walls of his room.

3:33 AM. How appropriate Tuner mused, sighing as he continued toward the bathroom.

As he moved down the hall, he felt insecure, as though somewhere in the darkness of his home, evil forces watched his every move. He hastened his pace as he quickly stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. With a quick flick of his hoof, the room was bathed in glorious incandescent light. Standing in its glory, Tuner felt slightly better as he reached a hoof out to grab a plastic cup on the counter. Leaning over the sink, he turned it on and watched as clear water slowly filled the cup, bubbles issuing forth ever closer to the top. He shut off the water when the water reached the edge of the cup and began drinking the wonderfully cool liquid.

His thirst now satisfied, he quickly made his way back to his room. As he settled in his sheet and laid his head down once more on the soft white pillow, his fears slowly began to return to him. As his eyes scanned the room, he felt as though a force was standing near, watching as Tuner squirmed and shook in fear. Looking at the clock on his night stand, he saw that it was still only 3:35 AM. Looks like it’s going to be another rough night he thought unhappily.

“I don’t know, it’s just not as cool as I was imagining.”

Time Tuner suppressed the urge to let out a long, frustrated sigh. After not being able to go back to sleep after that terrible nightmare, the last thing he needed was this. Oh sure, he’s friends had warned him about how picky this pony could get, and how specifically vague she could be with her demands, and how he should just let her know that she should take her business elsewhere. At the time, he thought they were being ridiculous. Surely no one could be that decisively indecisive, especially with something as simple as a watch. Besides, he was Time Tuner, the finest watch maker in Ponyville. He hadn’t failed yet in making every pony that walked into his shop leave with a time piece in their hooves and a smile on their face.

Of course, he hadn’t tried finding a watch for Rainbow Dash before either.

Trying to remain civil, Tuner attempted to extract a better criticism than an inadequate level of coolness. “So what exactly is uncool about this watch, Ms. Dash?”

“Oh you know,” she stated nonchalantly. Tuner waited for some sort of follow up to her statement, but all she did was stand in front of his store’s counter, eyes looking over the various assortments of hourglasses and clocks with a bored expression. No, I don’t know, that’s why I asked Tuner wanted to say, but his commitment to customer satisfaction held his tongue.

“Ms. Dash, I’m afraid I’m not quite as ‘hip’ as you, so maybe you could elaborate on what exact isn’t ‘cool’ about this watch.” Tuner hoped that he could coaxes her into elaborating on what she wanted, or at least what she thought was cool.

“Oh come on, Tuner, you’re an awesome watchmaker. Give me something like Applejack has, except make it…” Here it comes, Tuner thought unhappily as the rainbow-maned Pegasus searched for the right word. “Cooler.”

Time Tuner waited to smash his head against the counter. Next time his friends gave him a warning, he would listen to their wise counsel. How in the world her friends got her birthday presents was completely beyond him if she had this much trouble finding a wing-fluttering watch!

Determination kicked back in as Tuner took the expertly crafted watch off the counter and placed it back in the display case. There was no way he was going to make the past two hours pointless. “Not to worry, Ms. Dash, there are plenty more where that came from.” As Tuner returned the watch to the display case, Tuner tried pressing Rainbow Dash once more for clarification. “Any particular reason you have a sudden interest in watches, Ms. Dash?”

“Oh, you know, I just wanna know what time it is when I’m flying around.”

“I imagine so, especially with how the weather’s been lately.” Tuner immediately regretted bringing that up. Sure, every pony knew that Rainbow Dash had really fallen back recently on her weather duties: dark clouds on sunny days, scorchers on days that were supposed to be mild, and there was that one day where it had snowed instead of rained (the fillies really liked that one). Of course that wasn’t an excuse to bring up such a sore topic. “No offense, of course.”

Tuner braced himself for a torrent of excuses and snide comments that Rainbow Dash was famous, or perhaps infamous, for. But instead all she said was, “No, it’s ok” in a tone that almost sounded, dare he say, timid? Tuner looked up and saw that the bored, too-cool-for-school expression on her face had cracked for a brief second, showing anxiety and, dare he say, fear. Tuner raised an eyebrow and continued searching for a watch. Better not ask, he told himself.

Then he saw it. Sure, it was a little gaudy, and it may be a bit above her price range, but he was willing to part with it for a little less than he expected. Besides, if he made it a good deal, maybe she’d be more willing to go for it. He smiled as he quickly came up with a good sales pitch before taking the watch out of the display.

“Ok, Ms. Dash, the last dozen watches were just a warm up for this one. I just had to make sure that you were a very discerning pony. But I can say, beyond a shadow of doubt, that this is the coolest watch in Ponyville, neigh, all Equestria. Behold, the Wonderwatch 3000!”

And with a quickly flick of his hoof, he unveiled the wondrous watch to his captive audience. For a brief few seconds, Tuner held his breathe, praying to the Princesses that this would be the one. Tuner’s prayers were answered when the cyan mare's eyes lit up, quickly taking the watch and flying into the air with a huge smile spread across her face.

“Yes, this is it, this is the one, Tuner!” she said, accenting her enthusiasm with a squeal of delight. “This thing is so cool, much better than those other things you showed me.”

Tuner let out a deep sigh of relief as the mare lowered herself onto the ground once more. “Well, it was just a matter of figuring out what exactly made you tick, so to speak. Now, such a watch unfortunately wasn’t cheap to make, I assure you. The reinforced watch head, the enchanted color coding for the hours of the day, and of course the royalties I had to pay to the Wonderbolts. But I’m willing to cut you a deal, Ms. Dash. How does 50 bits sound?”

“Great!” Rainbow Dash said happily, digging behind her and tossing a bag of bits onto the counter. “Tell you what, Timey, you can keep the change for being such a good sport.” She quickly turned, wings extending for take-off. “Thanks again!” And with that, she was off in a rainbow blur.

Tuner stood behind the counter, a little confused. Sure, the watch wasn’t cheap, but he wasn’t expected her to go for the first price offer. Heck, Tuner was willing to go down as low as 40 bits. Tuner bit on the string of the bag and, picking up the bag while pulling the string back, poured the golden coins on the counter. Looking over the gold mass on the glass countertop, Tuner could immediately tell that there was a little more than 50 bits on the table. Tuner wondered why Rainbow Dash, of all ponies, was being so generous all of the sudden, especially to someone she just met. Perhaps, he thought, she wasn’t being generous; she was in a hurry to get away.

Tuner shrugged the thought out of his mind. So what if Rainbow Dash was a terrible haggler, more money for him. He smiled as he deposited the coins in the cash register, closing it back up with a satisfying ding. At least she was gone, and he could continue to watch his shop in peace.

It had been a pretty standard day at the shop: slow and quiet. Not many of the denizens of Ponyville needed their time pieces replaced or repaired on a regular basis, so business for him was pretty steady and predictable. Oh sure, there had been a few walk-ins that day, but those ponies usually just perused the various hourglasses and clocks for a few minutes and either left or bought them with little incident. Plus, Tuner’s shop never really attracted the young or hyper ponies, so every pony that came in the shop was very civil and polite. Tuner couldn’t remember the last time a customer had complained to him, or wasted his time haggling for ages, or broke into song randomly.

Of course, Tuner preferred it that way. Customers like Rainbow Dash were certainly interesting and presented a nice challenge, but he was glad that they were the exception rather than the rule. His other friends that ran shops in Ponyville constantly complained about how silly or stubborn or foolish their customers could be, and Tuner was glad that in his line of work he barely had to deal with that. Seclusion and quiet with only the occasionally visit, that was the way he liked it.

Tuner looked up at the cuckoo clock located directly above the door. 4:39 PM, the hands indicated. Tuner shrugged and decided it was close enough to closing time. One of the benefits of having a relatively low customer flow and owning your own business was you could close a few minutes early and not have to worry about it. Tuner figured the extra time would be better spent working on a few repair jobs he had in the back rather than standing vigil over the store where his toolset was far more limited.

Just as Tuner’s eyes strayed from the front, he heard the distinctive jingle of the front door bell. He looked back over to see a pony entering the store. She was dressed in a black cloak which expertly concealed all of her torso and legs save her hooves. While the cloak did have a hood, the pony flung it back off her head with a quick shake, revealing the visage of a straight-faced mare. Her black mane was combed straight and proper, matching her dark cloak. She had brown fur and eyes like emeralds. A distinctive horn the same color as her fur marked her as a unicorn.

And despite all those normal features, Time Tuner couldn’t shake a strange, dark feeling he felt as she entered his store. Without even saying a word, Tuner could sense that there was something off about this mare. Perhaps it was the black cloak, or the stern expression she wore on her face. Regardless, Tuner wouldn’t deny service to some pony based on some silly feeling.

“Welcome to Timely Hooves, Ponyville’s one stop shop for watches, clocks, and hourglasses. My name is Time Tuner. How can I help you today?” Time Tuner had repeated that slogan so many times over the course of his time in Ponyville it had become almost instinctive to utter that greeting every time he heard the front door bell ring. The familiar greeting also helped him forget the unsettling feeling that had been growing inside of him.

The brown unicorn seemed to glide over to the counter as she entered the store. Her horn glowed a crimson color as the unicorn removed a sheet of paper from underneath her black cloak. “I have an order that needs to be ready by four in the afternoon tomorrow. Do you feel as though you could fill such an order?” The sheet of paper floated over to the counter and landed softy on its glass surface.

As Tuner took a look at the paper, the cautious feeling toward the cloaked mare returned. Her speech was refined and polite, but the manner in which it was spoken made it sound like it was rehearsed, robotic and calculated as though the mare was trying too hard to sound normal. Tuner also found it strange that, while the mare’s eyes were green, her magic was a very distinctive red color. With every unicorn he had met, their magic was usually a color that was at least close to their eye or mane color, yet with this mare the magic had an altogether different color. Oddity upon oddity about this new customer began to stack up, and Tuner was beginning to feel very uneasy around her.

Tuner’s mind was quickly slapped back into reality when he saw the order. It was a magnificent design of an hourglass, carefully planned and wonderfully detailed. The drawing’s intricate features called for a variety of expensive and exotic materials, obsidian and silver being the most prevalent. A quick glance at the measurements showed that the time piece was to be about as tall as a full grown colt, and as big around as a cider barrel. Tuner’s mind began racing with ideas and plans on how in the world he could possibly fill such in order in only a day.

“If you don’t feel like you’re up to the task, then I can take my business elsewhere.” Tuner was so caught up in the blueprint for the hourglass that he nearly forgot about the brown mare standing on the other side of the counter.

Tuner placed the plan back on the counter. “Oh no, I think I can fill such an order in no time at all. However, there is the matter of price, and given that you’re putting me under a very limited time table and asking for a variety of exotic materials, I’m afraid this is going to cost quite a lot.” Tuner looked back at the design and started tallying up all the costs for the materials involved.

“Price is no objection, and I can provide all the materials you need,” the brown unicorn spoke plainly. She gestured outside the front store window to a cart that was guarded by another black-cloaked pony. While Tuner couldn’t get a clear look at the guard, he did see that the cart was filled with flawless stones and priceless gems. “I am willing to pay 500 bits for the hourglass, along with any gemstones and materials provided that are not needed in the finished product.”

Tuner could scarcely believe his ears. Here he thought he had made a good profit off of Rainbow Dash. With 500 bits, he could finally get that new wagon that he had his eyes on for some time. And with those leftover materials, he could make some time pieces that every pony in Equestria would be clamoring for. This was the deal of a lifetime, and all he had to do was make some silly hourglass!

“Deal,” Tuner quickly said, not wanting the opportunity to pass him by. “I’ll have that hourglass to you by four tomorrow.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you and the finished product tomorrow. The address to deliver the hourglass to is on the paper. My associate will bring the materials around back for you.” And without another word, the unicorn turned around and exited the store.

As Time Tuner watched the wagon filled with supplies move around to the back door, he began to wonder why the pony was willing to pay so much for such an instrument. Sure, he had to make the dumb thing in only a day, but she was still paying an exorbitant amount for just one hourglass.

He shrugged. Maybe it was just his lucky day.

Time Tuner trudged along the dirt path toward the delivery address. The wooden harness around his waist seemed to pull against him and he hauled the heavy hourglass in his old wooden cart. The squeaking and groaning of the wheels made his head ache as he continued his slow slog toward the brown unicorn’s home.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night between working on the wonder that he now lugged behind him and another series of terrifying nightmares. Oh sure, he was used to working late nights on delicate operations like the magnificent hourglass he was delivering, but the nightmares last night kept him up for the rest of the night.

They had been more real than ever before. He had been strapped down on a stone altar far below the warm embrace of the sun. There he bore witness to the horrifying acts of the black shadows that had been haunting his dreams for the last few days. They had taken innocent woodland creatures and, without hesitation or remorse, slaughtered them right before his eyes. The horror-filled expressions on the placid creatures faces just before the shadows had plunged their awful curved knifes into their chests and throats followed by the bone-chilling screams and cries that sounded from their lifeless bodies pained Tuner’s mind. Then they bled the animals dry, storing their life-essence in jars and painting the altar he was on with their entrails. He could smell the decay and waste, but could do nothing to stop it.

Finally, the shadows crowded around Tuner, whispering some strange chant. Directly in front of him, one of the shadows stepped forward, its brown horn glowing crimson red. As the shadow drew close, Tuner could see a shining blade gleaming in crimson magic slowly rise from behind the shadow’s back. As the shadow drew ever closer, Tuner began to recognize it as the shadow began to take shape in the red light of the torches. It was a pony, wearing a black cloak and hood. She had brown fur, a brown horn, and a black mane.

The mare drew the knife close to Tuner’s chest, with nothing separating the blade from his heart save a few inches of flesh and bone. The whispering of the shadows became an audible chant in some ancient tongue, growing louder and louder and the brown mare’s blade lifted higher and higher over its target. Tuner thrashed and squirmed, but his restraints held tight and the crimson-coated blade held fast over his chest, continuing to rise slowly in time with the chanting. Then, with a sudden jerk, Tuner saw the blade plunge down until…

And that was always when he had woken up. The same dream, over and over again, despite how many times Tuner had awoken from it. He had tried everything he knew: he changed positions, he went to another room, he eat something, drank something, drank something a little stronger, but nothing stopped the horrid dreams from returning every time he fell asleep. He had finally given up and stayed up the rest of the night, alone and frightened in his own home.

Unfortunately, that decision was now haunting him. His eyes felt heavy and his legs were weak, and dragging around a humungous hourglass wasn’t helping to alleviate any of that exhaustion. He pulled off to the side of the dirt road and stopped, fetching his map and the address from the cart. As he checked his course over, he looked around. Behind him and to his right he could see the happy little buildings of Ponyville off in the distance, and around him was nothing but grass and the occasional trees. To his left he could see the darkened woods of the Everfree Forest. He puzzled over the map and address again. Surely no pony lived this close to the Everfree Forest, did they?

He sighed and returned the map and address to the cart before reattaching himself to it. Well, that’s what the map says he groaned and he began pulling the cart once more. The only pony he knew of that lived this close to the Everfree Forest was that nice, quiet yellow Pegasus. He remembered coming down this same road to help her fix a cuckoo clock in her cottage, but he had past that place at least two miles back. Why in the world some pony would want to live all the way out here is beyond me, Tuner grumbled, grunting as he pulled the cart up a slight incline. This house better be close, or I’ll just leave it here for that daughter of a mule to find.

However, Tuner’s prayers were answered when he saw a small hut just up ahead. It was hugging the border of the Everfree Forest so closely that it nearly blended in with the dark woods surrounding the house. As Tuner pulled the cart further along, he could see a smaller dirt path leading up to the house. After checking that it was the right address, he pulled the cart to the left and began his trek to the home.

As Time Tuner approached the house, he could scarcely believe the state it was in. The ramshackle hut’s wood was faded and grey, with notches sprinkled throughout the front wall. The thatched roof showed signs of mold and rot, and even at ground level Tuner could tell that the roof did a poor job of covering the structure. The front door was off centered and weakened from years of weather exposure and poor maintenance. The only thing holding the poor door in place was a single rusted hinge that clung desperately to the rotting wood. On both sides of the door, window panes looked hollowly out with only token shards of glass jutting out from the sides of the pane. In a word, the house was a wreck.

Tuner wondered how in Equestria any pony could possible live in such conditions. Better yet, what kind of pony would spend such exorbitant funds on an hourglass when their own domicile lay in such disarray? Tuner shook his head as he pulled the wagon alongside the shanty. He was beginning to think that taking this job was a worse idea than he previously thought.

After taking off the harness, Tuner stepped up to the washed out grey door. It lacked any kind of doorbell or knocker, so Tuner rapped his hoof against the wood lightly, trying not to cause the door to cave in. The door responded with a hollow thunk with each repetition, breaking an eerie silence that had fallen over the area since Tuner had arrived. Tuner waited a few seconds, looking back at Ponyville longingly. The sooner this brown unicorn took her hourglass, the faster he could get away from this wretched place.

Tuner waited impatiently for a few more precious seconds until his anxiety got the better of him. He knocked again against the door, this time louder and harder. The door let out more hollow sounds, but no other sound came from the wooden structure. Tuner frowned and let out a frustrated sigh. “Typical,” he grumbled under his breath, cursing the mare that brought him to this lowly part of the world. Fed up with waiting at the doorstep, Tuner moved toward the right window and peered inside.

The interior of the house was no better than the exterior. Dirt and grime had taken complete control over the floor and surfaces of the home, while cobwebs had secured the walls and ceiling. Dust danced in the sunlight coming into the home through the various holes in the ceiling, and the few pieces of wooden furniture that occupied the room were the same faded color as the house itself. From the looks of it, the house was completely deserted, and had been for quite some time.

Anger boiled up inside of Time Tuner. Of course this job was a complete shame, what could he have expected from such shady characters like that brown mare and her little cloaked friend? Tuner kicked the dirt in frustration, angry at the brown mare and her friend and himself and the world and- everything! Tuner marched over to the door and gave it a swift hind-leg kick for wasting his time.

The door, clearly on its last legs, couldn’t take it anymore. The rusted hinge gave a finally creek before breaking in two. The grey wooden door quickly fell into the home, clattering to the ground with a huge plume of dust. The sudden violent force caused the entire house to creek and groan in protest as some straw from the thatched roof fell from the ceiling.

As the dust settle, Tuner began to panic. He didn’t mean to kick the door off its hinges, or rather, its hinge. He was just so frustrated and tired, and the door was the closest thing around so he had… He had to do something. He examined the remains of the hinge and concluded that there was no way he could get the door back in place using it. Perhaps he could find something to prop the door up, or find something to attach to the door frame to serve as a substitute. Of course, he didn’t have anything like that in his wagon, so maybe the home had something he could use.

He poked his head inside the house and immediately sneezed. The dust was thick in the house, especially since the sudden outburst had unsettled it all. He pressed on and stepped over the broken door. He didn’t want to risk breaking it in half by stepping on it wrong. Taking a closer look around the shack, he saw that it was very spartan. There was a crusty bed along the left wall of the one room home, and a dresser close by braced against the far wall. On the right there was a cupboard with the left door missing. Tuner figured that any sort of useful material would probably be in the cupboard, so he made his way over.

The reverb of his hoofsteps on the old wood sent a slight chill up his spine. The silence that had surrounded the house had returned after the door had finished its final cry, but the silence felt more intense inside of the hut than outside it. It was solemn, like a funeral or a graveyard. Tuner tried to move more quietly.

Looking into the cupboard, Tuner looked disappointing around its empty contains. Unless he wanted cobwebs or dust, the cupboard offered him little. Tuner opened the right door and noticed a strange sight. A single jar not covered in dust or dirt and easily being the newest thing in the home. It had a twist cap on it. Tuner looked over his shoulders, wondering if the owners would mind if he indulged his curiosity. Shrugging, he untwisted the cap and was greeted with the foulest odor he had ever smelled. He quickly screwed the cap back on and returned it to the cupboard. Whatever was in that jar, it certainly wasn’t going to help him.

He searched the dresser next, but he was once again meet with disappointment and cobwebs. He looked around the room, trying to come up with a plan. He could always take the sheets of the bed, but then how would they stay up? And for that matter, the sheets were clearly in no state to keep anything out with the various holes in them. Surveying the room once more, he noticed a rope coming out from underneath the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he walked over to the bed. Upon closer inspection, he found that the rope lead to a trapdoor underneath the bed. Looking around the bed, he could clearly see lines in the dust, showing that the bed had been moved recently to get at this trapdoor.

Worth a look, he reason, positioning himself at the foot of the bed and pushing it out of the way. He gripped the rope with his teeth and pulled back, lifting the trapdoor with a slight squeak. Tuner saw that a stone staircase led down into the blackness underneath the hut. Tuner didn’t want to trespass anymore than he already had, but he couldn’t just leave the door to the house wide open, no matter how horrible the inside of it was. He steeled himself and began his descent into the blackness.

Time Tuner began to feel anxious as the darkness of the claustrophobic staircase began to embrace him ever closer. His spirits were lifted when he saw the light of a torch further down the stone steps. As he came the bottom of the steps, he took a quick look around and-

“No…”

His heart began to race, his breath became short and choppy, and his knees became weak as the familiar setting slowly sank in. The walls of the room were black as night, and seemed to absorb the red light of the two torches that resided on opposite sides of the room. Two tables sat underneath their respective torches.

“No…”

Upon those tables, various cutting tools lay, carefully arranged and neat. Knifes, scalpels, and even axes and hatchets gleamed in the crimson light, glistening in anticipation. And next to those horrid instruments of destruction lay their victims. Small animals, rodents and birds, rested splayed upon the wooden surface. Their faces frozen in horror and pain as their soulless eyes stared at the stone ceiling. Their bodies had been carved and cut meticulously with strange and intricate symbols and runes, and their organs and entrails had been removed and positioned carefully next to them.

“NO…”

Underneath the tables rested clear glass jars filled with the life-essences of the poor cadavers on the tables. The red, vicious liquid absorbed the light from the torches like a black hole. The smell of blood, sweat, and waste filled the air. And there, in the middle of the room-

“NO NO NO!”

-was a stone altar.

Time Tuner’s mind melted, his vision clouded, and a pure, unfiltered, and unrelenting fear made his heart explode. This was the exact same room from his dreams. And now here he was which could only mean that…

“NO!” Tuner screamed, turning around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He sprinted up the dark staircase as fast as his hooves could take him. He tore through the hut, splintering the door as he ran across it. He didn’t stop to fix the door. He didn’t stop to harness himself to the wagon. He didn’t look back once.

He just ran, fast, hard, and in a blind panic.