> Grimdark is Magic
>  by Tau22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> And Magic is Friendship
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chambers were as silent as could be, considering their location. The distant wails and howls of tormented souls and their daemonic tormentors were barely even registered by the occupants. It was a constant noise and the senses eventually learned to ignore it. Part fortress, part archive, the structure was massive, housing vast amounts of knowledge from every corner of the galaxy, most of it of the forbidden sort.

Two figures made their way through its twisting halls. Thralls and more capable servants simply bowed as they passed, knowing better than to disturb them. They were giants by human standards, fitting, as they were human no longer. Living demigods, as high above their serfs as those serfs were above animals.

The one who walked second wasn't anything spectacular by their standards. Ancient, scarred battle armour, painted mostly in shades of crimson. A weapon, half halberd, half psychic tool, rested within the fallen marine's hand, decorated by various trinkets and fetishes. His mind was open, straightforward, violent.

The first was strangely magnificent to look at. His helm was intimidating, sporting several sets of polished horns, pillaged off the corpses unspeakable horrors. His armour, equal parts faded gold and dark blue, was mixed with a robe. It was richly decorated, with runes spelling out ancient words of power. These words proclaimed his many pacts with the spawn of the Immaterium, they documented the full extent of his might to anyone with the intelligence to notice. A foul blade rested within an ornate scabbard, while a massive staff, forged from an alien material vaguely reminiscent of black wood, was clutched in his armoured gauntlet.

The psyker continued their conversation, always on the edge of outrage:
“Do you truly insist on doing this yourself?"
The sorcerer replied, with an air of absolute confidence:
"Yes, Krom. Some things, you just have to do yourself."
"Why not at least send some expendable fool through first?"
"Because their mind would be snuffed out long before they managed to pierce the barrier. You know as much."
"Never hurts to ask... unless you have a sword lodged in your lungs. Might be painful then."
"You always take the important things into account. I have taken the necessary and dozens of unnecessary precautions. Nonetheless, if I do not return within a month, let Mordecai know he has been promoted."
"Do I get no recognition," the khornate's tone was sarcastic, joking, "you wound me, Ahriman!"
"You and I both know you'd kill three quarters of the cabal if I didn't prevent you from doing so, old friend."
“You and I both know nobody will care who you designated and the cabal will devolve into anarchy. And I’ll kill the damn noise marines first.”
“Good point.”

They reached a large, ornate door, flanked on both sides by a pair of tireless guardians. Their armour bore the sorcerer's colours, yet they were brothers no longer. They were dust, trapped within a shell of metal. Hollow reminders of past sacrifices. Loyal, following commands to a fault. Yet still just echoes.

He entered the ritual chamber alone. Thousands of words, some older than his entire race, were written along the walls and ceiling. The ground was dominated by an intricate web of images, meticulously drawn. A single inch off and the entire spell could backfire. But they were perfect. He had made them himself.

Taking his spot among the images, he began the ritual. His mind reached out, calling on all the hellish denizens of the Warp that had forged pacts with him. Combined with his own psychic power, they ignited the chamber with a dazzling display of colourful flames. With a final gesture of his hands, reality itself was torn apart.

He gazed at the gateway for a few moments, almost losing himself in its entropy, before taking several steps forward. Afterwards, he flung himself inside.





The sorcerer re-emerged within what looked like a forest. Almost absentminded looks confirmed that the staff and blade were still there. His mind was alerting him to the absence of something else entirely. The voices were gone, all the thousands of whispers that constantly assaulted his mind with promises of power and potential. He had gotten so used to such offers that he now felt so strange. Like a soldier caught naked in a warzone.

He was in some sort of forest area. Dense vegetation, somewhat gnarled and twisted. But was that a sign of some illness, or was that the trees' regular state in these parts? Closing his eyes, he tried to feel his surroundings. Tried to sense fragile threads of life hanging in the ether. To no avail. His special senses were blinded.

Ahriman would have pondered the situation further, had a rustling not reached the receptors of his helmet. The creature pounced without warning, teeth and claws bared. With reflexes a regular man could only dream of, the sorcerer sidestepped, avoiding the attack altogether. The beast landed on all fours and stared up at him with menacing, green eyes.

It was reminiscent of a canine, except with wood and moss instead of muscle and sinew. It was almost as large as him. Two more revealed themselves from the brush. Oh, so they wanted a fair fight? He would gladly oblige.

Swiftly, he set aside his staff and drew his blade. Forged deep within the daemonic forges of the Eye of Terror, the sword’s usually vocal denizens were silent. He was quite sure it was more than a match for a group of mossy muts, nonetheless. He almost underestimated their swiftness and ferocity, as one was upon him in the blink of an eye. It found itself cleaved vertically in half with a single, mighty swing.

He allowed himself a smirk, before looking down to observe the remains. The wood was somehow pulling itself together, regenerating at a rapid pace. Of course, why would it be simple for once? The other two attacked in unison and while he managed to fend them off, razor-sharp claws tore at his robe. Protective sigils be damned.

For a moment, he let his rage get the better of him and he retaliated, sending the creature flying with a mighty blow. It was then, that he stared into the jaws of death, as one of the wolves went right for the face.

There was a cracking and for a moment, the sorcerer was reminded of his hidden mortality. Then, however, an awkward silence ensued. He realized that it had been the wolf’s teeth that had cracked and it now hung from his helmet, stuck on its horns, whimpering. The sorcerer sheathed his blade and spoke to the beast:
“I see you are not quite equipped to handle my calibre of defence,” he received a whimper in response and he smiled wickedly, “in that case, allow me to relieve some stress.”

The ensuing battle... no, lumberjacking, would have been a gruesome display, had the victims not been made of wood. After a few initial, rather justifiably enraged blows, the sorcerer let loose some of his creative spirit. There was so many ways to make wood splinter and bend, if one knew how.

He stared at his creation. Gnarled, twisted, constantly regenerating. Completely stuck. The beasts now looked like a nightmarish basket, with some added limbs jutting out at various angles. It reminded him of some of the abominations he himself had summoned. The timberbasket groaned and clumsily walked off the scene, undoubtedly a bit embarrassed. It was then that a voice could be heard:
“Woaaaaaaah!”

Swiftly, he spun around, blade already drawn. Speech implied intelligence, and intelligence was danger. He shouted:
“Show yourself!”

He could swear he heard a set of yelps. Hesitantly, a trio of figures walked out of the brush and he almost lowered his blade. They were equines, all three of them. Judging by their rather diminutive size, they were ponies, young ones at that. The colouring of their coats and manes was what truly piqued his interest. Yellow and red. Orange and purple, with wings on her back. White and pink-violet, with a small horn on her head. All three were armed with nets, leather packs and wide-brimmed hats, fit for jungle exploring.

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he merely said:
“Umm, hello.”
The white one replied, in perfect low gothic:
“H-hi. Mister, c-could you maybe put that away?”
“Perhaps. Depends on who you are.”
“I-I’m Sweetie Belle. These are my friends, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. We’re s-sorry if we scared you, mister. We were just trying to get our cutie marks and we heard fighting.”
“Cutie marks?”
The orange one joined in:
“Yeah! In bug catching! We’re trying to find our special talents!”
“An’ judgin’ by what we’ve seen,” the yellow one started, “yer special talent is fightin’ timberwolves.”

Finally, he sheathed his sword and the three immediately seemed more at ease:
“Fighting is something I do often. Please, call me Ahriman. Tell me, are there others like you in this place?”
“Oh, yes! Ponyville is not too far,” Sweetie Belle responded.
“Could you lead me there? I seem to have lost my way.”
“Oh, sure! Ah’ve never even seen a critter like you! Are ya’ some sorta’ monkey?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
“Oooh, ooh, I have a question!” Scootaloo seemed especially energetic.
“Shoot.”
“Could you, ummm, carry us for a bit,” the other two gasped, but she continued nonetheless, “we’ve been looking for bugs all day and you seem real strong.”
In unison, the other crusaders spoke:
“Scootaloo!”

He considered the notion, weighing the potential dangers of an animal no larger than his superhuman arm. Then, he just shrugged.





Oh, if the cabal could see him now. Turned to a walking fortress for a trio of energetic fillies. It brought back childhood memories. Aaaaah, those were the good old days, ten thousand years ago. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo each sat on one oversized shoulder pad, while Sweetie Belle was nestled in his horny crown. No, wait, that sounded strange. Swiftly, his mind darted for a new subject:
"You said you were trying to be bug catchers?"
"Yup," Scootaloo chirped, "or, well, trying to see if that was our special talent."
"Is it?"
She fished out an empty jar out of her pack and replied:
"Nope. But that just means the list we have gets shorter!"
"Yup!" the other two enthusiastically agreed.

Somehow, he could not help but chuckle. They were dangerously endearing and he was quite sure no sorcery was afoot. Apple Bloom suddenly turned her head and spoke:
"Can Ah ask?"
"Of course."
"Why are yer shoulder thingies so big? Ah reckon Ah could use 'em as a bed if Ah wanted."
"Practicality. The larger the shoulders, the more likely they are to reflect an attack."
"Oh. But, ain't bein' able to look left and right important, too?"
He winced. The lack of peripheral vision was always a touchy subject. Marines often compensated for this by making the shoulders even bigger:
"Well, I just get more exercise this way."
The farm filly smirked:
"Uhuh, right. Oh, look, we're here!"

He stared at the town before him. It looked almost like something from those naive little picture books. A quaint little place, its equine inhabitants walking to and fro without a care in the world. The buildings were all decorated and shone with every conceivable colour. And then there was the massive, crystalline tree, just jutting out in the middle of it all. And within the tree's branches rested a bloody castle, of all things. Ahriman could muster only one response:
"Nice tree."

Soon, they were walking through the town proper, attracting the gazes of every pony that walked by. The trio waved at them happily, before steering him towards a rather posh, snow-white building. A sign hung above the entrance, also in low gothic. Carousel Boutique. The crusaders dismounted and Sweetie looked up at him:
"We'll get you to princess Sparkle, she'll know how to get you home. Let me just tell my sis we're back safe and sound."
"By all means."

She hopped towards the door and knocked. A rather nice voice sounded from the other side, pronouncing every syllable with utmost care:
"Coming, just a moment!"

A snow-white mare soon opened the door and greeted the crusaders, before locking her gaze on him. She was clearly a lady of style, as her groomed violet mane clearly illustrated. Even the crimson glasses on her muzzle seemed designed to accentuate her visage. Her sky blue eyes continued to stare, before she finally exclaimed:
"Sweet Celestia," he took a few steps closer. She did not seem fazed by his form at all, instead concentrating on something completely different, "darling, you look simply fabulous!"
"I... do?"
"Why, yes," she took another few steps and examined his 'outfit' more closely, "och, the way the colours weave together! The way the plating accentuates certain areas! And the robe-like parts attached! I could make an entire colle- oh, heavens," she gazed at the torn fabric in absolute shock, "darling, how did this happen?!"
"He fought a bunch of timberwolves, sis! Gave them a mean trimming, too!"
"Och! Those savages! You simply must allow me to mend this!" she obviously had a thing for the dramatic.
"I would hate to trouble you, Miss...?"
"Rarity. And it is no trouble at all! I simply cannot leave such damage to fabulocity unattended! Please, come in!"

Robbed of all his counterarguments, he made his way inside, ducking a little to fit inside the doorway. The insides were luckily much more generous when it came to space. They were also very stylish, from the eye-pleasing, carefully chosen colours, to the many outfits puton display. The den of a true fashionista.

The repairs did not take long and chatting with both designer and the three stooges was quite illuminating. He had gotten the crash course. World filled with ponies, three separate tribes, princesses being really special, all that jazz. Most importantly, perhaps, they were close friends with the youngest princess, who was arguably also the most talented when it came to magic. His ticket back home, probably. His ticket to some priceless artefacts, hopefully. Finally, Rarity exclaimed, with a dash of pazazz:
"There, all done!"

It looked as good as new, if not better. He wasn't even sure how such a feat was possible, even with her dexterous use of magic. She seemed to be able to casually manipulate objects without so much as skipping a beat. Incredible, really:
"Amazing work, Miss Rarity. And I must say, your arcane skill is no less impressive."
"What, my magic? Oh, darling, any unicorn could do that, though, definitely not as stylishly."
Fascinating:
"Ah, I was not aware. Back home, a practitioner must concentrate for even the simplest of tasks."
"Well, you don't seem to have a horn, either," she looked back up at his helmet, "unless those are yours?"
"Thankfully not."
"Splendid. Now, then, I'm sure you want to meet Twilight so she can get you home. Scootaloo, could you show her the way?"
"Not like he can miss it, but sure."
"What about us?" spoke the other two.
"Well, my dear crusaders, Applejack stopped by earlier and said you were needed for some apple bucking," she smiled at the farm filly, before turning to her sister, "as for you, Sweetie Belle, I thought we could do some baking. Pinkie taught me the most delicious-sounding recipe!"
"Awww yeah! Sister fun time!"
"You know it, you little devil," once more she turned to the sorcerer, who already had an orange pegasus nestled within his horns, "again, I'm very glad I could be of help. And I hope you find your way back home, darling."
"Thank you, Miss Rarity," somehow, her presence compelled him to apply rules of etiquette and bow slightly, "and farewell."

After almost dropping Scootaloo when passing through the door, he made way for the crystalline tree. Tree-castle. The big, unavoidable thing. The looks he earned himself no longer concerned him. What did concern him was the sudden, blue blur that passed at the edge of his vision. He tried to follow its movements, but the creature was much too fast, creating a small whirlwind as it circled the two of them.

Finally, it came to a stop, revealing its true form a pegasus with a vibrant, rainbow-coloured mane and tail. The daredevil eyed him for a few seconds, then finally exclaimed, with a cocksure tone:
"Hey, you're pretty rad. I especially dig the horns."
His extra headdress shouted with endless enthusiasm:
"Rainbow Dash!"
"One and only! Who's your awesome-looking friend?"
He replied for himself:
"Ahriman."
"Woah, that's quite a mouthful. I wouldn't even know how to begin writing that. How'd someone so horny get here?"
"I think you meant to say horned."
"Eh, same thing."
"To answer your question, I ended up here after semi-successfully attempting transdimensional travel and appear to currently be stranded."
"Hmmm," she tilted her head slightly, rubbing her chin, "you should go see Twilight. You talk just like her, I'm sure she could help."
The tiny pegasus chimed in:
"We were already on the way!"
"Well, then, what are we waiting for, let's go!"

What was up with these equines and their hyperbolic personalities? Was that just the ones he had the fortune of running into? Whatever the case, he could not help but find each one adorable or likeable in one way or another. As if they were designed to cator to every facet of his personality.

They knocked on the castle's massive gate and a female shout came from the other side:
"Coming! Just need to get down the stairs," it took a few moments, but the trio finally heard panting on the other side, "stupid, hah, stairs," the door opened, revealing the purple bookworm, "how can I- Ahzek Ahriman?!"

He liked this pony already. Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash just kind of stared, not quite sure what such an exclamation actually meant. Twilight completely ignored them and instead looked him over once again, perhaps to confirm her suspicions. After a few moments, she asked:
"You wouldn't happen to be an animated, life-sized statue, would you?"
"Most definitely not. What a silly notion."
"Then that leaves only one logical explanation. You have found a way to breach the barrier between separate realities and are in fact a traveller from another dimension."
"You're good at this."
"Oh, my," she did a little excited hop, "the possible ramifications of this discovery are simply limitless!"
"If I may, the existence of parallel realities is hardly a foreign concept."
"Perhaps, but you are living proof of a deeper connection between these separate universes! Come inside, I can explain better!"
"Don't mind if I do."

The two book-obsessed creatures disappeared beyond the gate. The two pegasi left outside simply stared for a while, before Rainbow said:
"Well, they're getting along. I think."
"Yup."
"So, uh... flight training?"
"Yeah!"





The purple alicorn kept digging through a large, wooden treasure box, fishing out various items, doodads and doohickeys. In the meantime, Ahriman admired her library. Two separate floors, filled with bookshelves up to the ceiling. It rivalled even his archives in scale, though from some of the titles, he was quite sure the tomes there weren't quite of the forbidden variety. One could scarcely imagine that 'Daring Do and the Ankh of Trotankhamen' could secretly be a tome for summoning daemons. The writing wasn't half-bad, though, he had to admit.

"Ahah, found it!" Twilight suddenly shouted, before triumphantly putting a small object on the table.

It was... him. Standing in a dramatic pose, perhaps ready to cast a doombolt on some poor sod. The likeness was so spot on that it couldn't have been just some random coincidence. He needed answers. And Twilight Sparkle was more than happy to oblige. It didn't take too long to get the gist of things. 

"So, let me get this straight," he took a deep breath, "in a parallel dimension to this dimension, I am a character in a miniature game?"
"Correct," he felt like he was being quizzed on random trivia, "they call it Brighthammer. It's more of a thinking man's game, turn-based. You have your units and diplomatic envoys and you attempt to garner as much support as possible through diplomacy, rational arguments and use of as little force as possible."
"That part doesn't fit at all. How am I... well, how is my doppelganger portrayed?"
"Ultimate seeker of knowledge, hoping to understand the nature of life through academic study." 
"So close, yet so far. There are severe deviations from my original world," like the fact it lacked redundantly large sword-chainsaws, "yet I cannot deny that it's just too precise otherwise. This is an astounding discovery, dear Twilight."
"I know! And most importantly, I bet it could help me figure out how to get you back."
"I see what you mean. Find the connection and manipulate it to our own ends."
"Indeed! That only leaves one small question..."
"What in the hay it is."

The eggheads got to work in unison. The most obvious choice was language. Despite being separated by dimensional barriers, everyone seemed to understand each other quite perfectly. He could even read their books, though when they tried to describe the individual letters, the descriptions differed wildly.
"A most interesting phenomenon. It is as if my mind was affected in a very specific manner."
"That would not perhaps be completely impossible. Whenever I visit the other world I mentioned, my body shifts to that of a human."
"Hmmm... you don't think it could be?"
"By Celestia, no..."
"Plot convenience." in that moment, Twilight gasped and a shiver ran down his spine. Dark powers were ahoof, that much was certain. By the gods, even his thoughts were being warped into horrid puns.

Other possibilities were considered, only to quickly be ruled out. A stream of ideas connecting the realities? Too fickle to form a link. A hidden force of nature? Too vast to control so precisely. Hours were spent on this dilemma and the sun eventually gave way to the moon. Then, spookily illuminated only by candlelight, Twilight screamed out like a vengeful god:
"I've got it!"
"Who?" came from a winged critter in the library.
"Not who, Owliscious, what! I think I know what the connection is!"

Ahriman looked up from his book, slightly annoyed that Twilight had found a possible answer in the middle of Daring Do's battle with the resurrected mummy of Trotankhamen:
"I am all ears, dear Twilight."
"First, a question. What was your source of information for your expedition?"
"An ancient tome I had found within the ruins of an ancient civilisation. How does this...?"
"Could it be," with her magic, she levitated a large, yellow book, "this one?"
He gazed at it for a few moments in stupor. The colour, the little person drawn in the front. The title. That was the very same tome he had made use of:
"Transdimensional Travel for Dummies?! How can this be?!"
"Simple! Upon closer inspection, this tome possesses hidden arcane properties. If my analysis of the energies, based on my previous dealings with these phenomena, are correct, it is in some way connected to several other copies, at least. One of them is surely yours."
"But who would have left such a network of powerful tomes in their wake?"

"I have a hunch it might have been the author, though his name is only written in initials," she showed him the relevant part. 'D. ex M.'. A peculiar name, surely, "well, whoever it was, I do believe I can use it to send you back home. I even have a device set up for it in my lab!"
"How utterly convenient," he moved his gauntlet in front his helmet instinctively, as he yawned, "though, may I ask that this be done tomorrow? It is quite late and I'd wish to get some rest before braving the trip back."
"Of course! And that even lines up with plans me and my friends had for tommorrow! Would you care to join us for a picnic?"
"Sounds wonderful, actually."
Twilight Sparkle clopped her hooves and did a pirouette in the air from sheer excitement.

He had been given one of the guest rooms. The bed was much too small, but that did not bother Ahriman. Who had time for sleeping when there were rampaging mummies to read about? He had to ask if he could borrow these books.





She had found him early in the morning, lost within chapter three of the Trotankhamen saga. With the mummy's foul artefact finally secure, Daring Do now had the unenviable position of delivering it back to Camelopolis before its curse could claim her soul. It reminded him of similar artefacts or vile daemonic pacts. He was smart enough to avoid long-term daemonic relationships, though some sorcerers let a flight of fancy get the best of them. Pitiful fools.

The clang of a hoof against his helmet brought him back to alternate reality. Twilight yawned, stretched out her wings, then commented:
"You remind me of myself. I never knew how to put down a good book."
"That's how you know they're worth reading."
"Good point. In any case, we'll be skipping breakfast so that we have more room for the picnic. So, umm, polish your horns or something and get ready for a feast."

He ignored the raunchy thoughts that sprung to mind and merely nodded.





The picnic seemed normal enough at first glance. There were familiar faces, the crusaders lined up with their respective sibling, bound by blood or honorary, it did not seem to matter. Miss Rarity was already happily chatting from a rather large, decorated couch, most certainly brought there solely for her.
New faces included a rather lovely, timid pony with long, pink hair, which perfectly complimented her coat, a creamy yellow. And then there was... his heart skipped a beat and he walked forward like a man possessed, thankfully not literally. There, on the ground, sat Chaos itself, disorder, absolute anarchy.

Their greetings fell on deaf ears. Without breaking his gaze, he brushed past the rather silly-looking chimera of a creature and gazed at the object of his fascination. She tilted her head a little and he could identify all the distortions so clearly, even without his extra senses. Her movements happened slightly out of sync with time, with her bubbly, pink mane not caring about wind nor gravity. Her eyes could dart in several directions at once, her entire body was ready to alter its entire structure on a whim.

And then there was that smile. He needed no psychic powers to identify its influence. So painfully sincere, so impossibly wide. The pink mare radiated pure joy into her surroundings like a cloud of infectious disease. Her giggle vibrated through the airwaves on a primordial level, making a sentient brain just want to hug her. Ahriman managed to restrain himself and merely exclaimed:
"Incredible."
She snortled, an activity he had not possessed the necessary word for until that moment, and replied:
"I know I am, but what are you? Or, I guess the correct question is who," her speech was like a hurricane, ignoring lung capacity in favour of more words, "unless you're something really silly like a living suit of armour, but I don't think those like picnics enough to come to them. Though that would make you the first, so maybe you're just special. Anyway, want a cupcake?"
She retrieved said delectable treat from her mane, yet it did not seem to have even a hair stuck in it. He took it gladly:
"Thank you," part of his visor slid to the side, revealing pale, white skin and a hungry mouth. The cupcake tasted like the pinnacle of decadence, ie. very good.
"Oooooh, that's a neat helmet trick. Also, I knew you weren't just an armour!"
"I had it custom-made. Usually, you'd have to lift the entire helmet. Horrible bother."
"Especially when there are cupcakes to be had! Oh, I'm Pinkie Pie," of course she was, "what's your name?"
"Ahzek Ahriman."
"Woooooaaaaah," her mind and mane were blown out of proportion before returning to normal, "lemme' guess. Dimensional travel using weird books, coupled with talking to weird creatures that haunt the nightmares of little foals and other exciting stuff like that?"
Twilight was good. Pinkie was spot-on.

"Hey you two," a male voice, for a change. It belonged to the mismatched serpent, "the two of you should dig into the food, or else I just might gulp it all up."
"Oh no you don't, Discord!"
With a running leap, Pinkie dove face-first into one of the assembled picnic baskets, disappearing within entirely and devouring its contents like a merciless, impossibly cuddly predator. The gang shared looks, before laughing together. He joined in with a chuckle, before giving the serpent a closer look.

A shapeshifter at the least, combined with a penchant for visual humour and the ability to conjure whatever tickled his fancy, or his goatee. Clearly a creature of power, but by no means special in his eyes. Tricksters of his sort were a dime-a-dozen within the Warp. The sorcerer found himself in his company nonetheless, along with the graceful pony from before. Ahriman turned to the yellow mare and spoke:
"I do not believe we have been introduced."
She seemed to cower a little:
"Ummm, quite. M-my name is Fluttershy. P-pleasure to meet you."
"Cheer up, Flutters," the ceature seemed much more comfortable when talking to her, "I'm sure Ahriman here wouldn't hurt a fly," he leaned in for a whisper, "unless it gave you access to that fancy library, eh, sport?"
Tricksters of his sort usually weren't so well informed:
"How do you...?"
"Och, please! Knowing is my game, dear friend! I probably know you better than even Krom."
"I may have underestimated you. Discord, was it?"
"Oh, indeed."
"I suppose the name was not just a flight of fancy."
"It used to be very descriptive, though, these days I am reformed,” a halo appeared above his horns, “thanks to dearest Fluttershy here," the pony and the draconequus shared a look and a smile, "which doesn't mean I'm not in the loop, as they say. Though, I must ask, do you think Abaddon will ever succeed?"

Fluttershy resigned and calmly sipped on her tea, unable to follow the conversation.
"Well, maybe if he can keep his arms from falling off."
"Oh-hoh, indeed! May I interest you in," a golden tray packed with delight suddenly appeared in his one cloven hoof, "cucumber sandwiches, friend?"
"You may, dear Discord, you may."
“They are rather scrumptious,” they were, truly. Something suddenly caught the serpent’s attention, “oh, look, they’re at it again!”

Rainbow Dash and Apple Bloom’s sister were busy, entangled in a bit of friendly leg wrestling. For the moment, they seemed to be at a stalemate, exchanging idle banter:
“Ya’ can, hah, always just give up, sugarcube.”
“You’d wish, Applejack.”

Watching them was strangely entertaining. He turned to Fluttershy this time:
“Are they usually like this?”
“Oh, yes. They’re both very competitive, especially with each other.”
“Lovely.”
Out of nowhere, he was offered pop-corn. He didn’t complain, really. Such a wonderful group of friends he had made. Wait, friends? Bloody Warp, they had him. And without any mind-bending magic, to boot.





He had not expected the purple alicorn to have something akin to a mad scientist’s workshop hidden within the castle. To her credit, it wasn’t like it was hidden. It even had a neat sign above the entrance. ‘Laboratory and Practical Testing Chamber, enter during designated times at your own risk’. Safety first, as they said.

The construct she was currently fiddling with reminded him of a large mirror, except hooked up into an outlandish mess of cables, circuitry and gadgets. Of all things, the fateful book was placed on a small pedestal near the top. He looked the device over one more time, before turning to the princess:
“Are you sure this is safe?”
“Absolutely. I have used it to travel several times. In fact, using this book, I should be able to open the doorway whenever it is necessary and if you tinker with your own spell, you should be able to do the same.”
“Well, let’s put your bits where your muzzle is. Fire it up.”

With the flick of a few nearby levers, with a disappointing lack of maniacal laughter, the machine whirred to life. Energy crackled along the cables, flowing from the tome into the mirror itself. Suddenly, violently, reality was torn asunder. A portal stood within the mirror, sporting every colour of the rainbow.

Immediately, he could hear distant whispers from the other side. A jolt of energy rushed down his spine. Absentmindedly, he formed a small flame within his palm, unnatural and blue, then snuffed it out with another thought. Her voice came again:
“I hope I got the right one.”
“You did, Twilight. Thank you again, for everything. Especially these,” he tapped the satchel tied around his waist.
“It’s nothing. I hope you make it back home just fine. And come back for a visit sometime if you can, you hear?”
“Oh don’t worry, I will. I have friends to visit in these parts, after all.”

With that, he embraced the entropy and was gone in a flash.





He stumbled back into the ritual chamber. Nothing seemed out of place, everything was still intact. Good. That meant the rubrics were doing their job. Triumphantly, he barged out of the room. His dust-brothers nodded when he exited, then resumed their vigilant watch over the entrance. Bless the remnants of their souls.

He found his favourite khornate psyker in the mess hall, busy arm wrestling with one of the slaaneshi. As soon as he was spotted, Krom revealed the contest’s true nature of a sham, slamming the other warrior’s arm with force enough to dislocate it. To the bloodfather’s eternal disgust, his foe emitted a squeal of ecstasy. Finally, Krom approached and spoke:
“I see you’re back. Shame. Was looking forward to the power struggles.”
“I do hate to spoil your fun.”
“So, you find anything of worth over on the other side?”
“Other than these,” he slapped the satchel and the books within moved around a bit, “I have made contact with some of the locals. The noteworthy sort. I will need you to go on a raid for supplies, in Imperial space.”
“Supplies, eh? Seeing as we have food enough, what sort of fancy stuff are they demanding?”
“I have written a helpful list for you.”

As the parchment rolled out, it almost reached the floor. Krom took it and looked over a few of the items:
“Bread, cucumbers, cat food, conal informal celebration headwear, random assortment of sappy romance novels, hair brushes, balloons... bloody Warp, Ahriman, what sort of horrific monsters are we dealing with here?”
“They are strangely cuddly.”
Krom shivered all over:
“Such terrifying... I knew you were crazy, old friend, but this is a new level.”
“As long as you get me these items, I can hope to appease them. You can do this, can’t you?”
“I’ll have to take my brethren a bit close to Terra for comfort, but yes. Warp, who am I kidding, this’ll be fun!”
“Good. Now, I must retire to my chambers. These tomes may seem innocuous, but they hold secrets. Of that, I am certain. I am not to be disturbed unless we get news of Abaddon finding his missing arms.”

The mess hall erupted into laughter as Krom simply nodded. He could not fight the urge to peek at the next instalment in the Daring Do series on the way. Daring Do and the Sunken City of Hooflantis. Och, he could not wait to find out what secrets she could uncover!

In the end, he was utmost certain of one thing.

Friendship was Magic.