Pink'tulu

Chapters

Prologue: Harmony in Triplicate (with Foreword)
Chapter One: Once Remembered, Twice Forgotten
Chapter Two: Things Set in Motion
Chapter Three: A Conversation
Chapter Four: Admission
Chapter Five: Farces

Prologue: Harmony in Triplicate (with Foreword)

Curse my bad form for putting the foreword in the prologue. Curse it!

Welcome to "Pink'tulu," a tale filled with Lovecraftian horrors, unspeakable beings and... ponies. This just so happens to be my submission (in progress) for the National Pony Writer's Month - as such, I will be attempting to update it as often as I possibly can, within reason.

This fic is rated Teen for occasional harsh language, and dark themes throughout.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is property of Lauren Faust, Studio B and Hasbro, Inc. I make no claims of ownership.

Part One

As many similar days for the pink earth pony began, her first idea was an immediate desire for cupcakes.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she stifled a yawn as she stretched, faint slivers of sunlight filtering through the window pane. Motes of dust flickered to and fro, seemingly suspended in mid-air as they drifted lazily about. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the early morning as she shifted her weight to the side of the bed, dangling her forelegs over the precipice briefly before coming to all fours, blinking every so often as she did so. Ignoring the grumbling of her stomach for the time being, muscle memory and force of habit began her daily routine: shower, towel off, quietly descend the stairs, unlock the door to the kitchen, turn on the equipment. This morning, she would be preparing ingredients for a rather large batch of cupcakes ordered by Ponyville Elementary for the beginning of Fall Break - indeed, the season made itself known through the chill in the air, seemingly held in by the heavy wooden planks that made up Sugarcube Corner.

As the many stoves and ovens in the kitchen began to crackle to life, however, the ambient heat that they created soon filled the cozy little space with just enough warmth to stave off the chills that would inevitably come without. Pinkie Pie found her mind wandering in every direction, never holding onto a particular notion, worry or thought for even a moment. While she absentmindedly set about preparing her work space, she thought she heard - no, felt - something... it was almost like an ill-perceived shadow, an illusion out of one’s metaphorical peripheral vision.

She braced herself... but the moment passed. No tail twitch, no itchy mane... nothing. Shrugging slightly, she resumed her work.

What little did she know. What little did they all know, indeed.

You may call me whatever you like.

I am the teller of stories, the singer of songs, the bard of bards; I am the inkling in a person’s - or pony’s - mind, that unfathomable little something that compels them to bring forth my craft. I am the weaver of all things true and fantastic; from my loom comes fairy tale and scary tale alike. I am the feeling one feels when gathered around a roaring campfire in the dead of night; I am the anxious, excited feeling that comes with complete, pure immersion in the art of the tale.

In essence, though I am in need of any introduction, I have deemed myself worthy enough for one.

Our story begins in two times, and in two worlds: the first, in a small, but well-respected University in Massachusetts, the year 1927; the second, a mystical land of fancy, in what is known in the local dialect as the 1005th year of Celestia’s Reign.

Since I am to be the tale weaver...let us begin with the former.

The United States of America
Massachussetts
1927 AD

Giant tropical centipedes share their territory with tarantulas. Despite its impressive length, it is a nimble navigator, and some can be highly venomous. As quick as lightning, just like the tarantula it’s killing, the centipede has two curved, hollow fangs, which inject paralyzing venom. Even tarantulas aren’t immune from an ambush. The centipede is a predator.

He shuddered, the text from the rather recently published Entomological journal sending shivers rocketing up and down his spine.

To imagine... creatures such as this, and on our very own planet! he thought in awe, not even possessing any desire to imagine how beings from the other realm could use this form to their advantages.

All was quiet in the dusty, sprawling library of the Miskatonic University. The man - middle aged, caucasian, essentially non-descript - sat, slouched over an impressive array of tomes, ranging from texts that looked as though they were fresh off of the presses, to aged, cracked old things that held ancient knowledge and forbidden teachings.

The Professor slowly stretched his back, pinching the bridge of his glasses with two fingers and massaging the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He succumbed to an old, but surely unhealthy habit - he cracked his neck, relishing in the occasional pop! that came from his tired old vertebrae. Hands intertwined behind his head, he leaned back in the equally old seat, his tweed jacket pulling at the sleeves as he stifled a yawn.

Goodness me... what time is it? he wondered. Casting his gaze upward to one of the many clocks scattered throughout the old library, he found himself in quite a shock.

“One thirty-three in the morning?!” the Professor spat, temporarily forgetting the fresh visuals of his musings on otherworldly centipede horrors. “How on earth did I stay at it so late again...?”

On any given night, he relied upon his most faithful - if not a tad zealous - junior researcher, one Conan O’Doyle. Conan was a young man in his mid twenties, of a stocky, but firm build, adorned with a mop of raggled orange hair and freckles on his face. Hailing from an economically depressed village in Northern Ireland, he quickly excelled in all of the standard home schooling protocols, earning the attention of the national government. To make a long story short, he had ended up at Miskatonic at the young age of twenty four, much younger than the vast majority of attendees.

On any given night, Connor would be there at his side, eleven-thirty, sharp - no exceptions. Except, this time...

“... where’s that young lad got off to?” the Professor said aloud. Trusting that his collection of University books would remain secure, the Professor stood up from his chair, his creaking, aching knees sounding out in unison with the equally creaky furniture. Grasping onto the cane that he had leaned against the wooden table, the man made his way toward one of the many exits from the University Library.

It had been a number of years since the Professor had been at it this late. As his numbers in age grew, inversely, so too did his desire for lengthy, all night study sessions diminish; indeed, when he had come to his fiftieth birthday, he had expressed fear to some of his most trusted colleagues that he had lost his zeal and fervor for the line of work he had been in for so very long. Despite all of their reassurances, it was only until the Professor had stumbled upon an obscure translation - or mistranslation, as it were - that would lead to what he would eventually come to call his “magnum opus,” or “life’s work.”

It was well known to the privileged few granted access to the hallowed halls of Miskatonic academia that there once existed a great nation - a nation that rose and fell many, many years before man. It was known at the time as Lemuria: the exact meaning of the name or phrase has been lost to time. What is known is this; a great civilization of humanoids created what is perhaps the greatest forgotten instance of a global government; what is essentially a utopia, for lack of a more academic phrase. This civilization foretold and succumbed to their own downfall - a prophecy that told of horrors descending from the heavens, unspeakable beings from another realm that held nothing but contempt for other forms of life and all that they did and could accomplish. They brought terror and death unto the Lemurian race, and despite their best efforts to forestall the evils that besieged them, they inevitably could not combat the horrors from the other world.

These were the thoughts that ran through the professor’s head as he hurried along the lonely paths carved out of the many, many aisles of books surrounding him.

Even ancient man had notice of evidence that they were not the first to prosper on this Earth. Signs of a civilization lost - faint whispers, scattered about like so many fossils, so very elusive but all the more intoxicating.

The Babylonians, a people that saw their glory days between 4000 and 2500 B.C. - even they had tales of “dark elder ones,” supposedly otherworldly horribles that had come to “undo man.” Next came the Greeks, then the Spartans for a time, then the Romans - the Early Christians, Goths and Visigoths, Huns, Vandals, Vikings from the North, Medieval England, Renaissance Italy, Colonial America, and so on throughout the ages... all have had tales of what roughly translates to “elder ones,” beings that supposedly mean to undo the human race.

Admittedly, to the uninitiated, the prospect of beings from another dimension would seem, at first, farcical. It is an archaic notion, in many admittedly germane-to-the-subject circles, that the reality of all of man’s combined knowledge juxtaposed so laughably against what seems, in its very nature, to be some manner of hoax. Granted, there are a few merits that one may award to whomever would raise that sort of din; for one, the information that absolutely disproves and disquiets any notion of scepticism is, inherently, a risk to the general public; truly, only those truly and meticulously prepared for what lies within that dreaded tome are ready for its horrid knowledge.

Resolving to keep his mind fully planted in the present, the Professor focused his thoughts onto the situation at hand. Sweeping his eyes over his visible field of view, there was - as was to be expected - no sign of anyone present in the Library, save himself. The Professor’s well-attuned ears listened for any sign of movement: perhaps a scuffling of feet, a familiar, stifled yawn, or the fluttering sound of the turn of a page - nothing. There was nothing.

The man quickened his pace.

I don’t like this... he thought to himself. At a window to his left, the faintest hint of a shadow dashed across the stained glass window, an ethereal twilight illuminating the silhouette.

“Goddammit, Jack,” he said aloud. “Get ahold of yourself.” The man berated himself for succuming temporarily to his anxiety. He couldn’t quite point his pinkie at it, but something was surely amiss. His instincts would not lie to him. Not at a time like this.

Happening upon an exit, he tried the handle, finding it - surprisingly - locked.

Hm. Well, that’s a rarity.

He glanced toward the placard that indicated which section of the Library he had found himself in.

The Archives? How in the hell did I wind up here? he wondered. Shrugging, he continued to his right. Least I know where I am, now.

As the Professor walked onward, he couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the eerie calm inside the building. It was if the very atmosphere itself were sucked into some sort of vacuum, taking all of the sound, the ambiance, the gentle feeling of home that usually came with such a shrine to academia.

He didn’t like it. Not a bit.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the Professor trekked onward, becoming increasingly wary of the inexplicable silence. It was as though even his very footsteps were somehow being engulfed, the sounds sounding out but instantly dissipating, fading into nothingness. This set the man on edge, more than anything else. Any number of things could produce - or create - such intense atmospheric interruptions... perhaps a ward gone awry, or a hex cast with the improper enchantments... heaven forbid, a portal, or some otherworldly horror.. the sheer possibilities were staggering, as were the implications. Having thus resolved to get to the bottom of things, no matter how trivial they may or may not turn out to be, the Professor broke into a light jog, ever advancing towards his destination.

If the Professor knew one thing about Conan O’Doyle, it was that the lad was a bit of an idealist. A dreamer, if you will. There was reference in some obscure Lemurian carvings, some poorly translated jargon about an “ideal world,” a land full of “natural magics” and “beings most friendly.” There were many, many written texts of scholars trying, yet subsequently failing to decipher the true meanings of the carvings... and Conan had yet to fall into that category, as he had been known to have make rather apparent.

It was his own damned fault, the Professor supposed. Early on into his research, he too had made an honest attempt at cracking the cipher, only to arrive at the frustrating conclusion that he, too, was unable to decipher it. He had written about the entire process extensively, several of his works being published in leading Anthropological journals at the time; it was from there, he gathered, that young O’Doyle had first heard of the cipher itself.

It took him back to a conversation - or was it more of an argument? - that the two of them had shared, not a week prior.

“I’m telling you, boy, it’s just a myth! It was all made up! Likely, it was an idealist recreation of a utopian Lemurian society in an effort for the world government to restore hope to its peoples when all hope was lost. You know how the history goes, Mr. O’Doyle.”

“Aye, Professor. That I do.”

“So you’d rather apply your rather considerable - and I don’t say that all too often - talents into what essentially amounts to an ancient literary wild goose chase?”

“Aye, Sir. I know that I can manage it, Professor. Just you wait and see.”

“Heh. Best of luck to you, then. No one’s ever cracked the cipher.”

The cipher. The one vexing, perplexing thing the Lemurians had left behind for man to discover - a consistent, seemingly impenetrable code, definitely a written language, but riddled with so many complex characters and permutations that translation proved both frustrating and, more often than not, impossible. Only two confirmed characters of the Lemurian Cipher have been translated over the thousands upon thousands of years that mankind has tried and tried again to decipher it. It had driven many mad with its complexity.

“The present, Jack. Focus on the present, damn you,” the Professor berated himself. He hadn’t even noticed the light.

“Wait... what’s this?” he said aloud, his jaw dropping slightly as he took in what could not possibly be before him.

It was... essentially ovular, a shimmering, floating essence somehow suspended in the air, flashing every now and again with an opaque, golden-hued light. It seemed fluid, yet solid at the same time; neither moving nor unmoving, it just hung there in the empty space between the floor and the ceiling.

His eyes rapidly scanned the environment - in a far off corner to his right, movement. A bundle of clothes, and... was that a shoe?

“Conan? Is that you over there, lad?” the Professor called out, struggling to keep his tone of voice steady.

There was more movement from the corner. Then:

“...a-aye, sir. ‘Tis only me. Heh heh...”

“What’s so funny, boy? What have you done?”

“Sir, I’ve gone and duffed up as hard as I possibly could... can’t fucking believe it actually worked, too...”

The Professor, taking care to give the rift a wide berth, slowly made his way over to the corner.

“What are you on about, son? What ‘actually worked’? What is this?”

Another wheezing laugh. “Don’... don’t tell me that ye don’t actually know what that is, Professor? After all our time readin’ up on it?”

The Professor worked his mouth, his tongue suddenly feeling very dry.

“You can’t possibly mean... no, that’s just not...” He turned around slowly, his gaze eyeing the rift in the air with a newfound horror.

“That’s just not possible!” the Professor spat. “Only the Mad Arab could summon forth something like this! Don’t tell me you - did you read the Necronomicon?! After I specifically forbade all Junior Researchers from reading it, you went on and read it anyway?”

“...s-sorry, Professor... was too curious, I suppose.”

“You’re daft, son. You’re absolutely bloody brilliant, but you’re also completely daft.” The Professor thought for a moment. “Tell me it didn’t-”

“-it did, I’m afraid. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and you have to believe me - I tried! I really, really did!” The insistent, pleading tone of Conan’s voice was interrupted by a series of hacking coughs. “Unless we find a way to stop them... they won’t stand a chance.”

“There’s still something that I don’t understand, Conan. Something that is very tantamount and germane to the situation at hand, if I am to understand the situation correctly. You mean to tell me that you not only found the pathway to Equestria, but you unwittingly sent Yig and Azathoth there as well?!”

Chapter One: Once Remembered, Twice Forgotten

You see, little ones, when you get to be as old as I am, you tend to see things with a bit more... perspective. My kind, children of the realm of chaos and subversion... we experience time all at once. We know what was, what is, and what ever will be.

Provided, the notion of knowing all of time drives many of us positively mad. Yes, there are plenty of claims that Azathoth isn’t nearly as mad as it is said; I’m here to say, however, that he really, really is. That bloke is more daft than a Shoggoth shagging a 1957 Chevelle.

At any rate, I suppose that little introduction was to clarify that, in fact, I knew of that day. I knew what would happen. For the first time in a very, very very long time, we were to be released once again. Released onto yet another unsuspecting, innocent, little world. We were to do as we do on such delicious occasions, and be done with it. The anticipation of that day sometimes made light of the torturously dull existence that one waited out in the void. To think, we have been here for so long... why didn’t we invent some sort of party games, or something?

Never mind that. As weaver of this tale, I nearly feel as though it is my duty to take advantage of my role every now and again, provided I feel up to some playful, inevitably one-sided banter.

Now, our story continues with the latter.

-----------------------
Equestria
1005 CR
Ponyville

Twilight Sparkle awoke with a start, her hooves flailing as she desperately tried to find purchase.

Her ears rang slightly with an annoying, high-pitched whine that made her wince. Her chest was heaving, and she found herself feeling the all-too-familiar stings of dehydration as her parched tongue and mouth cried out in protest.

Now fully resolved to be awake for the moment, the purple unicorn mare quickly but quietly made her way to the bathroom down the hall, not even bothering with the cups on the shelf as she turned on the spigot with a flash of her magic and stuck her muzzle under the cool, crisp running water. She drank a few gulps, instantly feeling better as the liquid sloshed over her tongue, down her gullet and into her stomach. Turning the tap to the right once more, the water halted its flow into the basin. Suddenly feeling very tired, Twilight Sparkle practically collapsed onto the toilet, sitting on the closed lid in a slightly uncomfortable position.

That dream... no, that was no dream. That was a nightmare! She shuddered, trying not to remember the awful, horrific visions that her sleep-deprived brain had assaulted her with. The night before (read: only several hours ago), the purple mare had been deep into her studies, reading an admittedly creepy but all the more fascinating series of texts and tomes that dealt with ancient Equestrian beliefs. Supposedly, there were a series of tales - a mythos, in the ancient tongue - that chronicled a great, cataclysmic event that foretold of “old, or elder” beings that descended from the heavens to bring death and destruction. Initially regarding the epic tales with a casually scholarly eye, Twilight couldn’t help but find herself becoming more and more entranced with the material at hoof; it was fascinating, when she first paused to think on it. A whole civilization of ponies, ones who existed even before Princesses Celestia and Luna!

The prospect was both terrifying, but awe-inspiring none the less. The more and more parallels Twilight found between civilizations scattered throughout time and history, the more and more it became difficult to deny such parallels for what they were. That led to a one-sided argument, one arguing for the possibility that life could exist outside of the planet’s atmosphere, with another arguing against that notion, suggesting perhaps a natural disaster or a horrible magical accident. Eventually, it was decided upon that there was no inexorably conclusive evidence to go on; it was further decided that the candle stick that had once been nearly full was now burnt down to a miserable little nub.

She found herself asleep in her bed moments later. Then, the dreams came.

Twilight found herself going about her morning ritual in a daze. The shower felt nice, admittedly, but it did little to lift her spirits, or replace the lost sleep she was definitely feeling.

Maybe a nap later on in the day is in order... she thought to herself. Had it been a few months prior, the unicorn mare would have paid little to no attention to her rapidly deteriorating state; though she was well-acquainted with the throes of sleep deprivation and all-night study sessions, the particular incident she labeled as the ‘Smarty Pants Fiasco’ instantly came to mind. From that day forward, she had resolved to take better care of herself, even if it meant sacrificing valuable research time.

“Can’t learn anything new without a clear head, after all,” Twilight said aloud, allowing a crooked grin to grace her muzzle.

Noting as she stepped out of the shower that the sun had not even begun to crest on the horizon, she resolved to let Spike sleep in for a little while longer.

No sense in waking the little guy, she thought. After all, even baby dragons need their beauty rest, too.

She made her way downstairs, shivering slightly at the cooler temperature as she descended; once she had some coffee in her, she further resolved to do a little research into a heat retention spell, or something to that effect. She put on a pot of water for the coffee, and made herself a simple breakfast of warm oatmeal with a few slices of fresh Sweet Apple Acres apples. With just a dash of freshly ground cinnamon, her ‘poor mare’s’ breakfast was complete.

She sat down at the table, the smell of the brewing coffee already lifting her out of the funk she had awoken to and making her feel more awake. Though the mare only drank on the most social of occasions, and didn’t partake in any... other substances, she did allow herself a rather healthy addiction to the heavenly, brown liquid.

“Canterlot can keep their tea,” Twilight mumbled to herself.

A knock on the door accompanied by the fluttering of wings signalled the morning’s post - though ponies sometimes were wont to poke fun at Derpy and her inherent clumsiness, most if not all agreed that she was at least very punctual and very professional. Twilight cantered to the front door of the library, opening it with a bit of magic. She eyed the newspapers she was subscribed to along with a few personal letters, and then...

“Need any help this time, Derpy?” Twilight asked.

“Nope, I got it!” the pegasus mare cheerily replied, already working herself free of a thick tangle of branches on the left side of the treehouse.

“All right, then. Have a good rest of the morning!” Twilight called.

“You too!”

Now feeling slightly better about her morning, Twilight re-entered the library.

Making her way back to the kitchen, she poured herself a healthy cup of coffee, adding a dollop of warm milk left over from the oatmeal and a dash of sugar.

When she casually glanced over the headline of the Canterlot Tribune-Review, she nearly spat it out.

New Ancient Equestrian Texts Unearthed

“Wh-what?” Twilight gasped, setting down her coffee. “When did this happen?”

Earlier this week, Archaeologists on a dig in the Kingdom of

Gryphonia discovered an entire complex of buildings, previously

thought to have been lost to the ages.

Contained within the ruined buildings were a series of

very old texts and scrolls, ones that told of a prophecy that

chronicled the rise and fall of an ancient Equestrian civilization.

Approximations from experts in the field on site estimate the

writings to be no less than ten thousand years old, an antiquity

that predates even our own Princesses of Equestria.

When asked at royal court regarding the status of the dig, and

subsequent study of the materials recovered, Princess Celestia

declined to comment directly on the manner, instead referring the

questioner to one Professor Fossil Finder of Canterlot University.

“Professor Finder?” Twilight gasped again. “He taught my Advanced Anthropological Applications seminar back in my Senior year!”

Without warning, a loud belch arose from upstairs, followed by a sleepy moan and the slow plodding of feet.

“Twilight... I know you’re the Princess’ favourite student and all, but seriously? It’s not even sunrise yet!” Spike protested as he rounded the corner from the hallway, sluggishly shuffling into the kitchen.

“Oh dear... I’m sorry, Spike! I didn’t know that the Princess would need me so early in the morning... I wonder if it’s urgent?”

Spike wordlessly thrust the scroll outward as Twilight enveloped the parchment in her magic. She floated the scroll over towards her primed eyes, ready to speed-read the contents of the page if necessary.

“Twilight Sparkle, my most Faithful Student:” she began aloud. “By now, you have no doubt read of the discovery that has taken place in what is now known as the Kingdom of Gryphonia. One of your former professors, Fossil Finder, and his team of several graduate students have unearthed the Grand Unicorn Archives - although the media has not quite caught wind of that little snippet, and I would remind you to keep it that way for the time being, if you would be so kind.

“At your earliest convenience, it would be my honour to invite you to participate in the translation and deciphering of these cherished lost works. You need only send word via your ‘Number One Assistant,’ and I shall send a Pegasus carriage to escort you and any necessary luggage - or companions - you should desire. I know that the field of Archaeology is not unfamiliar to a well-read mind such as yours, and your various published theses on Anthropology will ensure that your reputation precedes you. I have already notified Professor Finder of your soon-to-be arrival, and he was delighted at the news.

“However, if you’ll allow your equally faithful mentor a bit of an indulgence - prior to your introduction to the research team, would you care to join myself and my sister Luna for tea in the Gardens? It would be lovely to catch up with you in person, I daresay.

“Sincerely,

Princess Celestia.”

“The Princess... wants me... research... Professor! Tea! Princess Luna? I... I!” Twilight hyperventilated, trying but failing to grasp onto the beginnings of a single sentence. Her mind raced at breakneck speeds, playing out situations, variables and possible outcomes to this sudden - but undoubtedly exciting - turn of events.

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Hang on there, Twilight. Just take a couple of deeeep breaths... that’s it,” Spike said, holding out his arms placatingly. “You remember what happened last time you got so worked up, you know. Remember Big Mac? The whole creepy 'Smarty Pants Obsession' thing that you had to ask Zecora to make an antidote for?”

“Big - heh...hee hee. Don’t remind me, Spike,” Twilight chuckled, a mild blush forming on her violet cheeks. “I know, I know. It’s just a lot to take in at once. Gosh... where do I even begin? What should I bring along? What did she mean about ‘companions’? Did she mean my friends - or you, Spike? What if-”

She continued on this train of thought for some time. Spike tried his best to follow the lightning-paced dialogue, but eventually found his eyelids once again grow heavy. He stifled a yawn, nodding his head at strategic intervals in order to maintain the illusion that he was, indeed, paying attention to the unicorn mare. He would every so often raise a claw to interject, but soon gave up; it was a fruitless endeavour, he found, to offer a counterpoint when Twilight was rambling like this. He stifled a chuckle, still finding his caretaker amazing. Spike didn’t know any pony as smart as Twilight Sparkle. She seemed to have an answer for everything...

And, indeed, Twilight was already formulating an answer.

“So, that’s it, then. I’ll just have to make a checklist for my checklist checklists, then a master checklist inventorying all total checklists and subsequent sub-checklists! I’ll need to get to work right away!”

“So, uh, Twilight? Can I go back to bed?”

“Hmm, what’s that? Oh! Bed! Sure, Spike. I don’t expect to be done until the mid-afternoon, anyhow. I’ll go ahead and pack your things for you - we don’t want to be late!”

Spike yawned. “Sure, Twilight. Wake me if you need me.”

As spike wearily made his way back up the staircase to his hopefully still-warm bed, Twilight got to work. Never one to doubt her own organizational skills, the task of pulling together checklist after checklist was a breeze: once she started jotting down the necessary books and manuals she would need to be of any assistance to the research team - and perhaps to show off a little for Professor Finder - she really hit her stride, inking page after page of fresh parchment with a complex, yet startlingly simple system of categorization.

Within a mere two hours, the preparations were complete. The sun had long since crested over the horizon, spilling its golden, glowing light across the valley that Ponyville lay nestled within. The morning fog and dew dissipated as the warmth of the mid-autumn morning permeated the frost that had collected overnight, warming the earth below. Twilight found the chill that had accumulated in the library dissipate similarly, much to her relief. Now that she wasn’t so cold, she could fully focus on the task at hoof.

She briefly considered waking Spike, but decided against it - the work would go faster, given that she had memorized the locations of nearly every book in the library. Plus, it was bound to be a long day for the both of them... or perhaps more?

Twilight paused in her ruminations, considering her options. If she were to bring any of her friends along, who, and for what purpose? Given the fact that the Princess herself had invited Twilight to participate in the research (and had similarly suggested that bringing along some colleagues was not out of the question), she supposed that if she were to bring her friends along, they would likely be accepted without much debate.

Mentally glancing over her friends’ abilities and character traits, she went through the variables, one by one. Rarity, with her fine attention to detail, would surely be a valuable addition to the research team; though the prospect of an impromptu trip to Canterlot would be sure to cause some rather... vocal reactions, Twilight decided that the alabaster unicorn mare was a sure strength. Applejack, though the most honest of out all of them, was likely to politely decline - Twilight had not ever known the earth pony mare to be interested in ancient history, let alone the rigors that come associated with Archaeology. Though she did have her strengths in her own field, Archaeology required a certain... finesse that Twilight doubted Applejack would have the patience for.

Fluttershy, on the other hoof... well, she probably would decline, but for much different reasons. Known among her friends to be of a particularly meek demeanor, Fluttershy would likely balk at the notion of diving muzzle-first into such morbid and lurid tales of ancient apocalypses and otherworldly horrors. Twilight didn’t blame the yellow pegasus mare in the slightest; briefly recalling her own dreams, she shuddered to think the effect they would have on such a kind soul as Fluttershy’s.

“That leaves... Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said aloud. Ay, there’s the rub.

Pinkie Pie was... different. Unpredictable. Spontaneous - even dangerously so, at times. Yet, for all of her quirks, she had a certain sense of knowledge to her - a sage sense of advice, even a keen inkling of things to come. It could be a scientific endeavour on its own to bring the earth pony along, just to see her reactions to the ancient carvings and texts.

These are the thoughts that swirled about the studied mare’s head as she planned the rest of her day. How little did she know of the true significance of her plotting.

Chapter Two: Things Set in Motion

The day had gone just as planned, Twilight Sparkle found.

After some conversation with Pinkie Pie and Rarity, Twilight had managed her friends to travel along with her to Canterlot on such short notice. Pinkie Pie had assured Twilight that the Cakes were more than willing to grant the dedicated mare a few vacation days to help a friend, and Rarity was (expectedly) more than willing to go along for the sole purpose of simply being in Canterlot again.

After informing Spike of her plans after he awoke around noon, he was more than willing to help the purple unicorn mare run through her checklists, packing all necessary items and making all of the necessary preparations. Before beginning packing in earnest, however, Twilight sent a letter to Princess Celestia, accepting her appointment to the research team with great zeal. She also informed the Princess that she would be joined by Spike, Pinkie Pie and Rarity, which she hoped would not be too much of a burden.

Finally, she noted that she looked forward to tea. It would indeed be pleasant to catch up in person.

As the late afternoon arrived, the sun continued its slow descent into the horizon, lower to the ground than usual because of the late season. The hour drew near for the Pegasus carriage from Canterlot castle to arrive.

There was a knock at the door.

Setting down the Archaeological manual Twilight was browsing, the purple unicorn mare trotted over to the door, swinging it open with a bit of magic.

“Rarity, Pinkie Pie! Glad that you two could make it. Did you pack all of your things?”

“Indeed we have, darling. Oh this is going to be so exciting!” Rarity gushed. “A week spent in Canterlot, mingling with some of the greatest academic minds in all of Equestria! Ooh! - Twilight, dear, will any experts on Geology be present? I’d ever so love to learn from them whatever I could to put into my latest designs, you know.”

“I’m sure there will be representatives from pretty much every field imaginable,” Twilight replied.

“So when do we get to throw a party for all the smarty-pants ponies, Twilight? Huh?” Pinkie Pie asked earnestly, looking for a response.

“I, uh... perhaps you could arrange a little get-together after the introductions are made?”

“Yeah... hey, yeah! A sorta classy, Canterlot kind of party!”

“Why, Pinkie, I’m pleasantly surprised! It would seem as though you have learned from our... trying experiences at that Grand Galloping Gala so many years ago.”

“Aw, it was only five years ago, Rarity! You’re making me sound like I’m all old and stuff!”

Twilight, Pinkie Pie and Rarity shared in a lighthearted laugh, making small talk while Spike arranged everypony’s luggage to be packed. Within a few moments of Pinkie and Rarity’s arrival, so too did the Pegasus carriage arrive - appearing as a speck on the horizon at first, the glimmering, gilded wooden carriage glinted in the afternoon’s light, signalling its approach. Two stark white pegasus stallions were reined into the carriage, their strong, broad wings slowing their descent as they honed in on Twilight’s library home. With little more than a barely heard thud! the carriage touched down on solid earth, its drivers snorting and taking deep breaths to quickly regain their composure.

“Miss Twilight Sparkle and Friends, I presume?” one of them spoke in a gruff, yet not unkind voice.

“Yes, indeed, good gentlecolts. I believe you already know my assistant, Spike-”

“Sup, Steelwing!”

“Sup, Spike.”

“-right. And this is Miss Rarity and Miss Pinkie Pie, two of my friends and and fellow bearers of the Elements of Harmony.”

The guard’s expressions flickered slightly at this. They were informed that Twilight Sparkle may have passengers in tow, but none so famous as the Bearers themselves.

“It is our honour to meet and serve you, young mares,” the other pegasus stallion intoned. “Allow us to pack away your things, and we will be able to take off shortly.”

“Very good, sirs. We’ll be just over here. Good to see you too again!” Twilight replied.

“Good to see you too, Miss Sparkle,” one of the stallions spoke.

“My, such gentlecolts!” Rarity practically swooned.

“Got that right,” Thunderlane Sr. agreed. “We’ve been escorting Miss Sparkle here all across Equestria for the past fifteen years, give or take.”

“Never gets boring, these personal escorts,” Steelwing added. “Hey Thunderlane - ‘member that one time on the way back from Seaddle? With all that fog?”

“Oh, you know it!”

The two continued in their excited conversation, acting as if...

“My, it’s almost as if the two of them are young colts. They don’t look too terribly old... but aren’t the Princess’ royal pegasus guards all over the age of forty?”

“Uhm... I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. When we first met, I asked them - without a trace of tact, given that I was still just a filly - how old they were, knowing of Princess Celestia’s enchantment... they just shrugged, saying something to the effect of ‘a couple of centuries, give or take.’”

“My word, that’s incredible! To think, a spell that not only preserves a pony at his or her prime, but preserves the body as well!” Rarity said, her eyes growing large at the possibilities. “Just think of the poss-”

“-don’t think of the possibilities,” Twilight interrupted. “That bit of information is not really common knowledge for a reason. The Princess tried formally introducing it into Renaissance Equestria... let’s just say that things didn’t quite work out the way she wanted them to. Can I trust you to keep it a secret, Rarity?”

“A secret? Why... absolutely, darling. If one of my dearest friends wishes the issue to be moot, than it shall be so,” Rarity affirmed with a nod of her head.

“Pinkie, feel free to Pinkie Promise if you feel the need to.”

Pinkie Pie nodded her head, crossing her eyes in determination. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” she chanted as she went through the motions. Just for a brief moment - it was strange, really... Twilight thought she saw something. Felt something. Something raw, something incredibly powerful and incredibly close - something that she couldn’t possibly begin to fully understand, given the briefness of its flickering into existence.

From here, the five ponies plus dragon soon take off, headed for the capitol city of Canterlot, nestled in a mountain. A brilliant, majestic waterfall, one that had been flowing for millenia, spilled outward from the regal city, shivering shards of pale sunlight shining through the mist and the foam, giving the liquid congruence a rainbow-tinted sheen. The purple one sighed, taking in the scene before her - since leaving her home of Canterlot for Ponyville five years ago, many aspects of her life had changed: new town, new ponies, new friends, new adventures, new villians, new problems to solve and lessons to learn. It had been, so far, the most thrilling years of the mare’s life; thing were, however, about to pick up considerably.

Twilight eyed her companions, chatting away happily as they too took in the scene around them, Rarity’s eyes practically sparkling, Pinkie’s lips stretched wide in a genuinely happy grin. Even Spike was looking nostalgic as a faint smirk danced across his face, half-remembered memories of times long gone playing out before his mind’s eye. The purple unicorn mare closed her eyes, allowing the whistling of the wind, the steady beat of the pegasus’ wings and the not-unpleasant chatter of some of her closest allies lull her into a state of calm.

Once the carriage arrived in the royal city, Twilight Sparkle bade her friends, assistant and escorts adieu for the time being. Pinkie Pie, Rarity and Spike all made their way to the series of rooms they would be staying in, while Twilight made her way through the long, lonely corridors of the castle, still awed by the vastness and finality of the place. Her eyes flickered from painting to painting, mural to mural, tapestry to tapestry and the like. Truly, the entire history of Equestria was told here through many, many forms of artistic expression - one only needed the eye to see it. To appreciate it.

Knowing the way by heart, Twilight trotted silently towards the sprawling, windowed doors that led into the Gardens. She nodded at the two guards stationed on either side of the entrance; with an nod back in unison, the unicorns encompassed each door with a different colour of magic, one blue and one a pale yellow. Already, Twilight could see the rulers of her realm, seated side-by-side at a grand marble table. They rested upon fine velvet cushions as they lifted their heads up, watching the young mare’s approach.

Chapter Three: A Conversation

If there is one thing I have learned through trial and error, it is to never underestimate life’s way of ever-studiously churning out a healthy, heaping helping of the unexpected.

As Twilight Sparkle approached the marble table where the two Princesses sat, she had no idea what was about to transpire.

And so, dearest reader, neither shall you.

---------------------

“Twilight Sparkle, my most faithful student!” Princess Celestia called out upon the unicorn’s approach, standing to receive the customary nuzzle that the two of them had taken to sharing.

“Princess Celestia! It’s so good to see you!” Twilight practically gushed, galloping forward into her mentor’s embrace. The two of them smiled at each other, and - much to Celestia’s delight and Luna’s surprise - Twilight nuzzled the still seated Princess Luna as well, causing the night Princess to blush ever so slightly.

“It... it is good to see you again as well, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna managed to say, suddenly becoming very interested in the teapot on the table before them.

“Canterlot is just beautiful this time of year - why, you should have seen the view on the way in! The waterfall was absolutely resplendent in the autumn light!” Twilight exclaimed.

“Hee hee,” Celestia chuckled, “Well, I am glad that you think so, Twilight. Would you care to sit? I believe the castle staff has prepared an excellent brew this evening, one from the territories North of the Everfree.”

“Sounds delicious,” Twilight agreed, gingerly sitting down on one of the many open cushions seated around the ornate table.

“So!” Twilight began, silently preparing the tea out of courtesy for her company - one does not simply expect the royal sisters to fix tea for themselves, though the two of them had indeed insisted on several different occasions that Twilight allow them to fix their own cup. “Professor Finder’s... well, findings - how exciting! Do you think the recovered contents will contain Starswirl the Bearded’s translation of the Encyclopaedia Equestria? Oh, I have so many questions to ask-”

“-and ask you shall, in due time,” Princess Luna interjected, holding up a dark blue foreleg. “What we... that is, what my sister and I have to say to you regarding this matter is of dire importance.”

“Indeed, Luna. Twilight Sparkle, what we are about to share with you is to be kept an absolute secret - and though it pains me to say it, the punishment for breaking this oath is banishment. Will you swear to me to maintain absolute secrecy on this matter, unless - and only - if instructed otherwise by either myself or Princess Luna?”

“I- …” Twilight began, swallowing. “I agree. I promise not to breathe a word of this to anypony. You have my oath as your faithful student.”

“As I expected. Excellent, Twilight. Now, prepare yourself. What Luna is about to say is not normally meant for ponies to know... but times are dire, and the situation is indeed as dire as the times have become.”

Luna breathed inward. “Long ago, long before either myself or my sister trotted along this planet, there was an ancient race of ponies that predicted - and succumbed to - their own downfall. These tales are regarded as little more than period lore and allegory; believe me when I tell you, Twilight Sparkle, that this simply is not the case. There were indeed a great race, a vast civilization of ponies that encompassed much of what makes up modern Equestria.

“As the story goes, the wisest among this race began to suffer from debilitating nightmares, waking and sleeping visions of the world ablaze, dark, ancient and powerful beings laying waste to all that stood in their path. As unnerving as it may sound, these beings did indeed descend from the heavens and destroy all that they had sought to create, leaving nothing behind but ruin and forgotten tales. And as unnerving as it may sound... those very beings that destroyed this great civilization are absolutely real.”

“Wha-what?!” Twilight spat out, the shock plainly evident on her face. “But how is that possible, Princesses? I mean, I was following you up until the whole ‘ancient civilization’ and ‘foretold their own demise’ part, but do you mean to tell me that the ‘old ones’ that tales always speak of actually exist?”

“I’m afraid they do, Twilight,” Princess Celestia replied. “I know that what you are hearing goes against a great deal of what you have read in many books published throughout the ages, but this is the real truth of what happened so many thousands and thousands of years ago. The ‘elder ones,’ as we used to call them... they come from another world entirely. A world of pain, of suffering, of unspeakable horrors the likes of which I would not wish upon the kingdom’s worst enemies. Discord’s realm of chaos pales in comparison to the cold, mad, maliciously calculating hatred that comes from this place. The elder ones indeed hold nothing but contempt for all forms of life, and they seek to eradicate, without question, all which lay in their paths.

“Discord, Nightmare Moon, even the Changeling nation - they are all creations of this realm of elder ones - for the elder ones also have the power to create as much as they destroy. Every time our fair lands have come into contact with this world, nothing good has ever come of it.”

“Wait - ‘every time’?” Twilight asked breathlessly. “As in, more than once? This has happened more than once?”

“Indeed it has,” Princess Luna answered. “If our count is correct, no less than two dozen times since the planet was formed. My sister and I have personally dealt with the vast majority of modern instances, but...”

“What my sister means,” Celestia said, “is that we don’t know if we can stop it this time.”

There was absolute silence in the Gardens. Even the birds ceased to chirp, as if the entire landscape was hanging upon every word.

“What... what do you mean, you don’t know?” Twilight asked nervously, true fear beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. “I mean, yeah, there was that one time with Queen Chrysalis and everything, but... the two of you together! Surely you could-”

“-as you are well aware, Princess Luna and I no longer hold the right to bear the Elements of Harmony,” Princess Celestia said, calmly. “That right lies within yourself and your companions.”

“These... these ‘elder ones’...” Twilight began. “... are they really as awful as the tales say?”

“Probably much worse,” Princess Luna said, her expression grim. “Many instances of their true powers have been redacted from ancient tellings, in order to protect the public.”

“Wait - does that mean...”

“I am afraid so,” Princess Celestia confirmed. “Though your studies into this matter are in no doubt rooted well within reality, certain facets of the tellings have been altered, in the interest of safety. You see, Twilight - there is one particular being from this realm - mad as all the rest of them, but brilliant as well. Plotting. This being has the power to affect the written word, twisting and turning the pieces and parts of a story to its advantage, always planning its next move. All it takes is a written instance of its name for the whole process to begin.”

“Goodness gracious!” Twilight said, her pupils shrinking into little pinpricks. “Does it have any effect on the spoken word? Would we do well not to speak its name?”

“It is more than likely a wise course of action to refrain,” Princess Luna answered. “You continue to impress us, Twilight Sparkle, with your innate ability to think on your hooves, always dissecting a situation as it unfolds. You have our commendations.”

“Th-thank you?” Twilight stammered, blushing. “It’s nothing, really... I’m just well-organized, is all.”

“Indeed you are, Twilight,” Princess Celestia confirmed. “Are you feeling well? You seem to be taking this rather... disturbing turn of events rather well, which is commendable. Most ponies simply do not have the stomach for such things.”

“Nor do I blame them,” Twilight practically laughed. “Heavens, could you imagine poor Fluttershy, hearing all of these things? I wouldn’t even dream of exposing her to this sort of thing.”

“You have the right of it, my student. Again, a commendable analysis.”

“Here’s one thing I am not quite understanding,” Twilight said. “You said that these ‘elder’ beings are from another world entirely. Does that imply that there are also other worlds out there? Or is this world just existing as an opposite to ours?”

“That... is perhaps a question better answered at another time, and in another place,” Princess Celestia said neutrally, her expression betraying no emotion. “There are still some things left to discover one one’s own, my student.”

“I... see,” Twilight said. “No matter, anyhow. As far as an answer to your earlier question goes, Princess... I’m not really quite sure what to think of it all, to be honest. Part of me still wants to blatantly reject the notion that such a world of horrors could even exist, let alone the claim that our worlds have been unfortunately linked a number of times in the past... given Princess Luna’s admission to strategic redactions in ancient texts, it would follow that accounts of this ‘other realm’s run-ins with Equestria throughout the ages would be omitted as well. That, coupled with the fact that I had to swear an oath to even hear any of this in the first place... I suppose I can arrive at no other logical conclusion. There must be some form of world other than ours containing otherworldly beings that mean us harm, and... and...”

“I believe your student begins to see the seriousness of the situation, sister,” Princess Luna spoke.

“... oh no. My friends! Canterlot! Ponyville! Professor Finder! What if - the Elements! Can we-”

Princess Celestia, harnessing an old, old spell originally developed to quiet a cranky foal, silenced Twilight with a gentle display of magic. Luna smirked ever so slightly, recognizing the spell in a wave of nostalgia.

“Twilight Sparkle. You are right to worry, but rest assured that you, your friends and all that you hold dear are, for the time, in no imminent peril. My sister and I are well aware of the situation at hoof, which is why we already have a contingency plan in place, should the worst occur. Similarly, this is why my sister and I are entrusting you and only you with this precious, if not unnerving information: we trust your judgment, your expertise and your thoroughness to see Equestria through this situation. We trust that you and your friends will rise once again to defend our fair nations, should the need arise.” Celestia released her magical hold on Twilight’s muzzle, allowing the purple unicorn mare to speak in an admittedly meek, quavering tone.

“But... but what if I’m not good enough? What if things go wrong and it’s all my fault and there’s nothing I can do fix it?”

“Try to relax, my student. If the rulers of Equestria have the utmost confidence in your abilities, shouldn’t you have some faith in yourself as well?”

Her mentor’s words stirred up something within her, almost like a burning anxiousness mixed in with a distinct sense of pride.

“You’re... you’re right, Princess. Princesses. We’ve saved Equestria before... we can do it again, if that’s what it comes down to. Our duty has never been in question. But as far as questions go...”

“You may ask, Twilight Sparkle.”

They conversed for a time after that, Twilight’s fears eventually dying down, replaced by a voracious need to consume new, previously unknown knowledge. Princesses Celestia and Luna talked amongst themselves well into the early evening, pausing in their conversation every so often as a maid or butler quietly refilled the still steaming teapot seated on the ornate marble table before them. What Twilight learned from that conversation was incredible; indeed, it would be several days before her overworked brain would be able to work through the massive amount of information gained on that evening.

The plan was this: Twilight, Rarity and Pinkie Pie would be placed on the official research team tasked with the deciphering and translation of the recovered ancient Equestrian texts. Twilight would be secretly on the lookout for instances of a name she had never heard of in her extensive readings on the subject - indeed if Professor Finder happens upon the word, she was to confiscate the offending article and report it to the Princesses immediately. Supposedly, the written instance of the ancient, elder thing’s name gained potential power for every set of eyes that read it; Twilight was to be certain that it did not become distributed amongst the researchers or worse - be leaked to the media, which would be a cataclysmic event, if the Princesses were to be believed.

It was all a matter of time before things were truly set in motion.

Chapter Four: Admission

Chapter Four (tbd):

Time is a fickle thing, really, once you really get down to the root of the matter. It has long been argued that the passage of time is nothing more than the invention of sapient individuals, a sort of self-imposed order on their daily lives - though from planet to planet, dimension to dimension and yes, even universe to universe, the passage of time is all subjective to its own.

What I really mean by that is, of course, that “time” simply does not exist. Sure, we may use it to describe how we experience our own existences in our own realms; but it all boils down to naught in the end, every time. Countless arrays of dimension, sub-dimension, universe, multiverse, subconscious existence, collective consciousness or any aberration further thereof have been, and then simply not been.

One human being, in the eighteenth century, invented something so deceptively simple that his colleagues, critics and peers at the time were made to simply ignore the vast implications that the answer to everything implies. Binary code, originally the language of logical statements converted to a pure mathematical form, eventually was adapted and subsequently evolved into the language that computers and assorted peripherals, secondary and tertiary technology use. A series of ones and zeroes, zero meaning ‘on,’ one meaning ‘off.’ Like all of existence. Something, nothing. On, off. Living, dead. On, off. Matter, antimatter. On, off. Positive charge, negative charge. On, off.

The implications - the true, universe defining implications - were lost to man until many, many centuries into his future. That is a story for another time.

There I go again, I suppose - the weaver of tales, off on another ones of his tangents, waxing lyrical about the multiverse like some sort of love-sick puppy.

As Twilight Sparkle sat, lost in her own thoughts at the astonishing, terrifying news the Princess had shared, her companions were settling in elsewhere at the castle.

Rarity was on cloud nine, in every sense of the phrase. She fought back the urge to squee with glee - their accommodations were well beyond her expectations - even more luxurious than the private tower suite Princess Celestia had granted her access to, only a few years ago. She subconsciously cataloged every bit of furniture, decoration and overall general colour scheme she could behold. Her well trained eyes swept giddily over the interior of the lavish guest suite, the interior decor practically resounding within her very being.

Now, this! she thought to herself. This is truly the most magnificent application of the art of design that I have ever laid eyes upon! Why, this suite simply gushes with only the most well known and well respected ponies of the craft!

“Why, could it be-? Oh, it simply must be!" she found herself saying aloud. "These curtains practically sing of the craftsponyship of none other than Sash Couture herself! And - and these sheets! The pegasus down pillows! The custom-embroidered comforter, with - my, yes it is! The very signature of the legendary Silk Sheets!”

Spike stifled a chuckle, while suppressing the urge to blush at seeing the object of his desire to gleeful. “Gosh, Rarity, you’re already excited about just the furniture here! Imagine what it’ll be like to meet all those... how’d you put it, Pinkie?”

“All those smarty-pants ponies that’re on the research team with Twilight?” The pink pony posited.

“Uh, yeah! That!” Spike agreed.

“Well, yes, but of course!” Rarity said. “I am merely preparing myself for meeting these well-respected individuals by allowing myself to indulge in a bit of a vicarious thrill-ride via these simply divine home decorations!”

“Um... Pinkie, did’ya happen to catch any of that?” Spike asked, rubbing the back of his head. “I got nothin’.”

“Rarity’s getting super hyped by the furniture so she can be even more hyped when she’s meeting all the smarty-pants ponies!” Pinkie translated. “Wait, when do ponies even have pants? What... what are pants? Rarity? Do you know what pants are?”

“Never heard of them, darling. I had just assumed that it was yet another one of your words that you happen to have in your... rather ‘creative’ vocabulary.”

“Huh. How ‘bout that,” Pinkie Pie said to no one in particular.

The three of them continued to make small talk as they unpacked. The guest accommodations were rather lavish, as was to be expected for guests staying in the great nation of Equestria’s capitol: laid out in a sort of postbox formation, there were four spacious rooms, each with a private bathroom complete with amenities one might expect at a five-star hotel or penthouse suite. Each room opened up into the common area, a sprawling open space with white marble columns interspersed throughout. There was a kitchen with a well-stocked pantry, refrigerator, freezer and oven/range combination, with an equally well-stocked bar that sported some rather expensive labels. Rarity found herself eyeing the well-aged Jura whiskey.

Past the plush couches and cushions seated in a circle around a large table, on the far wall was a series of sliding glass doors that led out onto an alabaster balcony, which was littered with various chairs meant for sunbathing. There was even a jacuzzi complete with a magically enchanted rune situated on a spacious corner of the balcony itself, affording a beautiful view of the city below. The two ponies and young dragon found themselves drawn to the practically majestic scenery, basking in the warm glow of the late afternoon’s light.

“This is simply...” Rarity began, trailing off in mid-sentence?

“Super awesome-irrific?” Pinkie offered.

“Marvelous?” Spike suggested.

“Marvelous,” Rarity confirmed, sighing an airy, contented sigh.

“Hey, guys?” Pinkie said suddenly, carrying a soft edge to her tone. “I just want you all to know... no matter what happens this next week, I just wanted you to know that you’re some of my bestest friends, and I really mean that. I know that I have a lot of friends back in Ponyville, and I always make friends when I visit Canterlot... but you’re two of my bestest.”

“Pinkie Pie, that’s... rather touching, really. But why so solemn, dear? Isn’t this view simply breathtaking?”

The sun continued its slow, unrelenting descent into the horizon. Its golden light illuminated the streets below, bustling with Equestria’s most privileged and elite. The faint sound of the din from the city below was swept up by the rustle of the wind, sweeping over the great, sprawling expanse, carrying the well-blended noises to their ears. The practically mouth-watering smell of freshly-baked bread from the kitchens below wafted ever upward as there was a knock at the door.

“Now, whomever could that be?” Rarity asked aloud, turning from the picturesque scene towards the noise. The white unicorn mare trotted at an even pace toward the front door, her well-coiffed purple mane bouncing with every step. With a small wave of her magic, she opened the door, revealing a bronze earth pony mare with a dark red mane, complete with a traditional Canterlotian maid’s uniform and cap.

“Special order from Guards Steelwing and Thunderlane, Sr.,” the mare announced in a sing-song voice, pushing in a rather large, shiny silver cart adorned with several platters covered with equally shiny silver lids. The maid deftly lifted the lids from the four platters on the elongated cart, cradling them under her foreleg as she collected them one by one. With a bow of her head, the earth pony mare silently left the room.

Pinkie Pie and Spike entered from the balcony, curious about the new addition.

“What’s that?” Pinkie asked.

“Well, it would appear to be our late lunch - courtesy of Steelwing and Thunderlane, Sr., no less! My, how thoughtful of the gentlecolts to provide lunch for us!”

“Whoa! Yeah, that was pretty sweet of them,” Spike said. “Let’s dig in!” He hungrily made his way toward the steaming trays of fine Canterlot cuisine before him.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Rarity tittered. “Now, Spike - a gentlecolt must remember his table manners when with company, yes?” Rarity swept her eyes over the suite. “Ah, this should do nicely. Come, now, Spike - you can help me set the table!”

Chapter Five: Farces

Chapter Five (tbd):

In the madness of the void, the relative order - the rhyme, or reason - to human existence is both a puzzling oddity as well as a troublesome juxtaposition.

Allow me to explain. In our realm, madness runs free. Chaos is the norm; things exist and simultaneously do not, just as we are both here but were never really here at all. To try to summarize the culmative experience of life in the realm of the elder ones in insipidly linear, mortal terms could never hope to do any of it the slightest sliver of justice. In a way, we feel, it is the ultimate representation of perfection - an existence based solely on the fact that it exists, and does as it wishes, for time immemorial (if you’ll pardon my previous ramblings on the true nature of time). Where in the mortal universes - at least, the vast majority of them - forces like gravity, electricity and magnetism are the governing elements in the very building blocks of reality. In the case of Equestria, a great culmination of other-dimensional wavelengths coalesced into an extra-dimensional mass, then collapsed inward upon itself, creating a singularity. The event horizon of the singularity was so massive that it tore a hole in the fabric of space-time; but that’s a story for CERN to tell the human race, a few centuries into the future.

Whoops. Spoilers.

As the Professor stood, reeling from the daunting implications revealed so suddenly unto him, his mind turned inward - only for a fraction of a second, but the amount of information processed was enormous.

-----------------------------

“You-... how did y-...” The man began, running a palm anxiously over his combed-over hair.

“It took quite a bit o’ doin’, Professor, but I managed to get it done. ‘Twas only a matter o’ finding th’right harmonic wavelengths and restructuring their resonant frequencies to collapse inward on themselves, creatin’ an anti-harmonic internal loop.”

The Professor blinked. “Son, I’ll tell you something - I’ve been in this field for a very, very long time. You’re speaking to me on a level of a master of the subject, someone who clearly knows too much, and still isn’t quite certain how to take all of the new, exciting, world-shattering revelations and epiphanies. Hell, I remember the first time I read through the Necronomicon, cover to cover - couldn’t sleep for weeks. Kept having nightmares, waking up screaming about shoggoths violating me in ways that evidently incensed my wife, no doubt quickening our inevitable divorce. Ah!” The Professor held up a finger. “I know that we’ve been over it before, and it doesn’t even really factor in. I’m sure you know how it feels to not be able to talk seriously with anyone about it, who isn’t clued in. Trust me, I know the feeling well.”

“It’s...” Conan began, licking his dry lips with an equally parched tongue. “It’s just... how could it be true? I know I didn’t believe it when I first read it - I’m sure nobody in their right feckin’ minds did! It’s bloody insane, it is!” Conan spat.

“You don’t know the half of it,” the Professor muttered under his breath. He took a seat at a table a fair distance away from the rift, still hovering, suspended in mid-air as it shimmered and glimmered this way and that.

“So I read the words. I’m sure you did, too. And I saw him. I saw... he was so huge. Tentacles, long as cruise liners, all coiled together like some massive, foul green snakes. Wings like the most bloody daft, horrible bat you ever lay eyes on, curled up, almos’ like they was waitin’ t’be uncurled. Them great, horrible claws, sharper’n anything man could ever know. And... and Christ, the singing, th’fuckin’ singing...!” Conan choked, his voice becoming suddenly strained. He coughed and hacked dryly into the sleeve of his sweater, trying to keep the noise down, despite the admittedly incredible - unpredicted, and unprecedented - series of events that had already taken place that cold, cold stormy evening.
Feeling stubbornly belligerent towards his disobedient research assistant, the Professor chose to look away rather than show concern. The occasional flash of lightning, punctually followed by a clap of booming thunder, both lit up many of the vaulted, sweeping windows among the drafty upper levels of the University Library as well as made the floors and wooden shelves to shake and rumble with every event. Unnoticed by Conan or the Professor, the rift seemed to pulsate in time with the flashes of white-hot light, an emission of energy on a different wavelength entirely.

“Conan,” the Professor said. “The Necronomicon is no laughing matter, as I am sure you are now well aware of. Many have read its pages and gone completely and utterly mad. Some have even killed, an unfortunate but all the more deadly by-product of the knowledge that blasted, damnable tome contains. I wish I could have warned you properly for Chapter Seventeen, but - in truth - nothing really can. It is a revelation all in of itself.”

“Do you mean... oh, for Christ’s sake, Conan... you got through it just now? Even after reading that whole rambling segment about not bloody well repeating the words written on the six-hundred-and-sixteenth page?!”

“...oops?”

“OOPS IS BLOODY WELL RIGHT, YOU DAFT IRISH CUNT!” The Professor roared, his voice reverberating off of the walls around them. “What in the blue bloody blazes were you thinking, eh?! You actually said the Rites of Invocation out loud? Here?!”

“I didn’t know it would do... do that!” Conan shouted back, honest panic creeping into his voice.

“Well that’s pretty fucking clear, isn’t it?” The Professor spat, again running a hand through his thoroughly frazzled hair. “The people... the beings that live in Equestria are peaceful. They are a race built upon the ideals of love and tolerance. Do you have any fucking idea the bloody mess you’re about to put them through because of what you’re done here?”

“Yes, yes, of course I bloody well know! How could I not?!” Conan retorted, throwing his hands up into the air. “That’s why I’ve got to make this right, Professor!”

possible way for you to undo what... what you’ve...” The man trailed off in mid-sentence, his mind taking him to Chapter Eighteen as well as Nineteen and Twenty-two.

“Now, Professor, just hear me out-” Conan began quickly, holding his arms out placatingly.

“For the love of the bloody Queen’s bloody drawer of frilly undergarments, are all of the Irish this bloody daft?!” The Professor interjected, he too finding himself flailing his hands into the air in exasperation. “Conan, no. No, no, no and NO! Do you have... do you have any idea what interaction between our two planes could mean?! It would be tantamount to committing dimensional suicide! It would be madness! Absolute bloody madness, lad! Don’t you get it?”

“I get it, ok? I do, I really, really bloody well do!” Conan argued, slamming the very book of the hour onto the table in front of him. “No one knows better than I, Professor. This is my wrongdoing.”

“You-... your wrongdoing. You...”

The Professor remembered a night in Prague.

“Nevermind that for now, Conan,” he found himself saying.

“Sir...? Was that-”
“I said never mind!” The Professor barked. “What’s important now is that you - that is, you and I - make this right. Chapter twenty two, subsections seven and eight. Go.”

“Y-Yes sir!” Conan replied, springing into action. For the moment, the dull ache in his muscles and mind - the dryness in his mouth and throat, the whole lot of it - it could all wait.

The two of them had a kingdom to visit.

Pinkie Pie, Spike and Rarity all dined together, certain that Twilight was just caught late in her meeting with the Princesses, and that she wouldn’t mind the three of them starting the festivities without her. Indeed, the earth pony, dragonling and unicorn were entirely unaware of their mutual friend’s inner monologue, set to hypersonic speeds as she paced nervously back and forth in front of the door leading into the suite.

Relax, Twilight. Just relax. Try and relax.

Relax? Relax?! Here’s a brief, itemized inventory of the exact reasons why I should not be relaxing! One! Elder ones! Universe of chaos! Discord! Changelings! Two! Trying to remain composed in front of Spike and the other two! Three! I’m probably saying this entire frantic thing out loud, and I’m probably gonna turn my head, and the guard that Celestia and Luna sent to escort me to the suite is gonna be looking at me like I’m some sort of crazy pony!

Twilight turned her head.

The purple unicorn forced herself to stop pacing, taking a series of deep breaths in an effort to calm her nerves. She found herself trying to will the nervousness out of her system, admonishing it both for its existence and for the fact that it was making her heart pound inside of her ribcage like a rabid Parasprite in the throes of a three-week sugar binge.

After a few moments, Twilight Sparkle composed herself. She turned the door’s handle with a brief tug of her magic, and trotted casually into the suite.

“Well... well, of course!” Twilight replied as calmly as she could. Pinkie Pie and Rarity could almost immediately tell that something was up - Spike merely shrugged his shoulders and dug into the equally hefty looking plate of pasta in front of him.

Twilight fixed herself a plate of the perfectly palatable pasta, savoring the sweet flavor of the fresh tomato sauce that the noodles bathed in.

“There’s nothing quite like Canterlot cuisine, is there?” Rarity practically swooned, the fine quality of the meal filling her stomach with a warm, full sensation.

that great of a cook,” Spike replied.

“Nonsense!” Twilight said. “Rarity, have you ever had a daisy-and-lily sandwich prepared by Spike? Absolutely delicious!” Twilight beamed, further deepening Spike’s growing blush. The purple mare slyly winked at her number-one assistant, the equally purple little dragon grateful for the free publicity in front of his not-so-secret crush.

“Aw, gosh, Twi...” Spike gushed, practically at a loss for words.

“I’ll - I’d be glad to, Pinkie!” Spike said. “Sounds like fun!”

The four talked amongst themselves for a time, the conversation floating airly from topic to topic without any sense of driven, implied or suggested direction. Though Pinkie Pie and Rarity knew that there was something clearly bothering their purple friend, they wordlessly agreed that now was not the time to address that issue, particularly with Spike present. As the evening wore on, they found themselves playing a game of cards to pass the time. With Pinkie Pie inexplicably winning every hoof of the game, the four of them decided that it was high time for them to hit the hay - it was, after all, a rather taxing day for everypony (and dragon).

As she sat alone that night, bathed in the pale, pale light of the waning crescent moon, she wrote.

Dear Journal -

Today, I learned what it means to have one’s life turned completely and utterly upside-down. I learned that what a pony believes is real can be so infinitely delicate, with his or her complete perception as equally as naive.

Princess Celestia and Princess Luna couldn’t be making any of this up. It’s not early April, and I’ve never seen such graveness in their old, old sets of eyes. Hell, I’ve never even seenPrincess Celestia that grim before - not with Nightmare Moon, not with the Parasprites, not with Discord, not even with Chrysalis and the changelings. This is real. This is impossibly, impossibly real, and now I’m stuck in the middle of it. All through this evening, I’ve done my best to convince my friends through body language and outward social behaviour that I am, in fact, all right - that I have not learned some ancient, forbidden, horrible knowledge that perfectly shatters my obviously woefully erroneous pre-conceived notions of the very workings of life on Equestria.

If only.

Though it might seem trite, I would say that I am no stranger to the weird and the previously unexplainable - given the events of the past seven years or so, my personal encounters alone should prove testament to the many trials and tribulations I have faced. But this... I wasn’t prepared for this. I really was not. To think - not only do other worlds definitely exist, but the most imminent, dangerous threats to Equestria itself originated from a very real, very scary world of absolute chaos!

At first - and this reaction should not come as a surprise to even myself any longer - I panicked. I denied it. Then came the deep thought, the theories, the explanations, the racing conclusions and the like - and I knew. I just knew. How could it not be? How could they possibly be pulling my tail on this one? It didn’t seem likely, and that was scary. Really, really scary.

I have my instructions. I know what I must do next, and it will be no easy task - I will likely be taxed to my organizational limits, at the very least. I will have to push the boundaries of the Elements of Harmony themselves, and make certain that my friends and my own self wield them in the most efficient, most effective manner conceivable. I will have to have complete, total and absolute confidence in myself as well as my comrades. I will have to trust that we not fail.

...I hope Fluttershy doesn’t freak out.