Midnight. I hadn’t been able to fall asleep. I turned over in my bed, trying to get comfortable. As I did so, a dim light fell on my eyelids. I opened my eyes in confusion. A section of the floor appeared to have folded back like paper, revealing a glowing white hole. Maybe this was just some previously unseen quality of the floorboards. Maybe Spike left the lights on downstairs. As I crawled out of bed to have a closer look, however, I knew neither was terribly likely. I sidled up to the peculiar slit and looked through but could not make out anything inside. I was about to leave it for investigation in the morning when the floor bent in unnaturally and I fell through.
I landed hard onto the wood below. Surveying my surroundings I found that I was at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the bedroom. I sighed in relief. Obviously I’d find myself here. Where else could a hole in the floor lead but down? Something wasn’t right, however. As I went to light a candle, I began to notice minute differences in my surroundings. The furniture seemed slanted in a way that wasn’t readily apparent. The floor seemed to curve slightly under my hooves. The bookshelves tilted to the point where I feared they’d lose their contents. I moved apprehensively toward one of the windows. It was midday. Cloudy. Had it not been dark only moments ago? I gave the skies another glance. They were certainly gray, but were clouds responsible? I remembered the last night’s dream and a shiver ran down my spine. As I looked over Ponyville I noticed shadows sliding along buildings with no ponies attached to them. They traveled over the walls, the ground, the rooftops. I considered my situation. I was obviously dreaming, but… had I somehow passed through Equestria altogether? Had I fallen through the top layer and discovered the ugly truth underneath?
I unlocked the door and stepped into town. The shadows seemed content to continue ignoring me as I made my way around town, and although it clearly wasn’t dark, I cast no shadow of my own in this place. As I continued to gaze upon this alternate Equestria, a dark leviathan flew over the trees. As it drifted, the surrounding shadows quickly darted into the buildings, sliding under the doors or through closed windows. A powerful wind blew through Ponyville, carrying a heavy curtain of crimson rain. This was no ordinary wind. It bypassed the flesh and chilled one to the very bones. The red rain grew thicker. I could no longer see ahead, as everything was obscured by the downpour. The next moment, as suddenly as it began, the rain ceased.
I had fallen through another layer. The dirt road had turned black. The buildings had been transformed into crooked silhouettes; the trees, into hideous spires. The sky was an unseemly vortex of suggestive clouds and lingering black figures. I stood frozen, considering the implications of what I’d seen. I fought to stay calm as the sickening revelation made itself clear. The beasts and horrors of the Gray Domain could be found absolutely anywhere, just beneath the surface of the visible spectrum. Unknowable creatures swam in the seas of imaginary numbers and roamed the glades of theory. They don’t care about us. Most of them are likely unaware of our existence. This is probably for the best.
I awoke and had to stop myself from hyperventilating. I had remained in bed while I slept this time, which was a definite improvement. I started to wonder whether there really was something wrong with the books. Two nights in a row of these vivid dreams was abnormal. Perhaps there was some sort of enchantment on the Volumes… At this point, I considered talking to someone. My friends? Princess Celestia? I put these thoughts aside, and busied myself with the translation of the first Volume. A few strange dreams were no cause for alarm. I was making history! Translating these books would undoubtedly further our understanding of ancient cultures. Princess Celestia would be most pleased with my efforts on behalf of all ponydom. Why, I could write my own book interpreting these tired old tomes. My mind’s eye misted over with visions of fame and respect among historians everywhere. I noticed I had somehow continued to write as the various distractions filled my head. I sighed in irritation. Translation required my undivided attention. I glanced over the transcript I’d written absentmindedly, preparing to crumple the parchment and start over. Then I read through it again, reference texts in hoof. I read through the last paragraph a third time in disbelief.
“…Presently, [the] two tribes live separately, under the guiding hooves of their matriarchs. In the olden days, they were not so different. Those who embraced the sunlight and busied themselves with menial tasks were rewarded with symbols adorning their flank. But we were different. We knew their tasks were of no value. We rejected these ‘[cutie marks]’. We craved more. We wanted to understand how the world worked, to master the magical arts. And we did. Our powers shamed [their] most powerful sorcerers. But still we craved more. As their subspecies succumbed to strife and racism, we stood united and continued our glorious work. Decades passed and our knowledge led us to the lower reaches of Equestria, those in the [Gray Domain]. We bore witness to the might of the Other Gods and we sought to fuse with them, to become perfect like them. We were rejected, swatted away like flies. But they did worse than destroy us. They cursed us to live on as wretched parasites, feeding off the love of [others]. “
My mind raced back to the marriage of my elder brother and Princess Cadance. The marriage was interrupted by Queen Chrysalis, who masqueraded as the kidnapped Princess in order to feed off of my brother’s love. The combined efforts of my friends and I, along with the real Princess Cadance, were enough to repel the evil queen and her troop of changelings, and banish them from Canterlot. And now here I was, holding four ancient tomes produced by these creatures. Changelings! The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The Volumes of Vehement Vengeance were written using a previously unknown patchwork dialect. Who else could come up with such a language but the changelings, a species that literally feeds off of other cultures?
I scratched out a letter to Princess Celestia, detailing my progress in the ongoing translation of the first Volume. I neglected to mention that the books were written by changelings however, as I feared that the Princess would ask me to return, or worse, destroy them. I was not prepared to abandon the tomes, regardless of their author. Knowledge is not evil in and of itself. I’m attaching the Princess’ reply, which I received later that same day.
[The aforementioned letter follows.]
Twilight, my most faithful student,
I’m afraid you must be mistaken. Regardless of any rumors you may have heard, the Canterlot Archives hold no record of any series that matches your description. The Volumes of Vehement Vengeance are an old pony’s tale, nothing more. You mentioned you were allowed to check out the books by my sister Luna, and I spoke to her to make sure. She has no recollection of meeting you two days ago. You understand she’s quite busy and rarely leaves the castle. I know better than to question your honesty and I don’t see a reason you’d lie about the situation, so I request that you show me these books at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Princess Celestia