A box full of papers plops on the desk. On it's side, written in black ink, 'Frost, B.'.
The unicorn behind the desk raised an eyebrow at his colleague, "You're kidding me."
The earth pony shrugged, "Not my call man. Hey, if you get done soon enough, the cider and salt licks on me." He turned, heading out of the small cubicle.
"That'll be three you owe me then," The unicorn said to his friend. He shuffled through the various things in the box. "Vacation's coming up in a few days and manglement decides to pile on the work. Typical. 'Eyo, what's this?"
He levitated a thick book out of the box. It was simple, black, but on the cover, a silver pentacle. He opened it, and saw on the inside cover 'This Journal Belongs to' and scrawled by that, 'Black Frost'.
"Well, this is rare. Hadn't had a journal to document in a while. Maybe this will be interesting enough to make up for all this extra work they're piling on me."
He turned the page, and started reading...
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Fall, Third Waxing Crescent, 1003 N.I.
To whom it may concern;
If you are reading this book, then I am no longer of this world, and the enchantment has faded. Within this journal lies my thoughts, my life, and my secrets.
Take care to heed my words, as what you will find out may change your outlook of the mortal coil.
My name is Black Frost, a Unicorn from the city of Tall Tale, and born in the Winter 977 years after the Nightmare’s Imprisonment. My Mother and Father were both rich entrepreneurs, able to give me the finest private education after I was barred from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The school’s reason for doing so was because I ‘lacked the magical capability necessary’ to perform to their standards. Granted, even to this day, simple levitation eludes me, but I have done powerful magic. Powerful enough to be on par with the Princesses, even.
I would spend most of my days during my foalhood within the family library, reading book upon book of magical theory, history, and legends. This brought some concern to my parents, as some of the books I was reading weren’t meant to be read by such innocent eyes. But I persisted in reading them, despite their attempts to dissuade me from doing so. It seemed evident that my special talent was to be knowledge, whether keeper, pursuer, or teacher, but I still had yet to attain my cutie mark.
Then I had found a rather curious book one day. As I wandered through the library, looking to sate my thirst for the written word, I felt a chill go down my spine. I looked about, having learned to trust my instincts at this point, and I see it sitting low on the shelves. It’s cover sported several cracks upon its surface, and on the center of both sides was a silver pentacle, with pages written in dark red. This book was special, that I knew, but it would take me years after first seeing it to realize why I felt... wrong, turning those pages at first. The cover was made of leather, the pages were vellum, and the ink was blood. But back then, it didn’t matter, as I turned each page, I was drawn more into that book.
And I could not understand it. The writing was incomprehensible, different. Otherworldly. Every attempt to focus on the words forced my eyes to wander across the page, while on the edge of my vision I saw shapes dance and flow. It wasn’t long before I passed out in the library.
When I came too, I had a headache, but I was not unconscious for long. I had woken back up in the library. The book was gone, and upon my flank, was it’s twin. I was so overjoyed to see it, and rushed off to show my parents. They were, however, not as enthused as I was about it. When I told them, they said nothing. They didn’t even smile. It didn’t matter.
The next few months were... Difficult, to say the least, as Mother and Father became more distant and standoffish towards me with my every attempt to bring up the subject of my mark. It was not long before I was silent about it myself. I kept myself to the library more those days, keeping out of their sight, adjusting to the new changes that have been brought by my cutie mark.
But that shall have to continue at another time. One of my... ‘restrictions’. I shall reveal all in time, but for now, I’m safe knowing that no one else can read this at this moment.
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“Hey, you gonna stay here all night or what?”
The voice of the Earth pony made the Unicorn jump.
“Sheeze, you alright there Paper Pusher?”
“Yeah, you just snuck up on me,” the Unicorn replied, a hoof up to his chest to slow his beating heart. “What time is it?”
“Long past time to get outta here. Unless you’re working overtime.”
“You owe me a mug. And you know I hate that name Venture. Gimme a sec to grab my things.” the pony grabbed his saddlebags, and as an afterthought, threw in the journal.
The Earth pony rolled his eyes, “Fine, ‘Paps’. You ready?”
“Yeah, first rounds on you.”
Paper Pusher was still sitting at the bar, long after his friend Venture had left with some mare, and only a few other patrons remained. He didn’t have much to drink or eat, but he just didn’t feel like going home just yet, and since it was the end of the work week, he didn’t need to wake up early in the morning. Sipping at his drink, he stared at the journal.
Why did I bring this? He thought, Curiosity warring with Reason. I never bring work home with me.
Curiosity won, as he opened the book and began reading once more.
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