//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7 
// Story: Nom's Mom Bomb 
// by kudzuhaiku 
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“Chartreuse…”

The voice saying her name was unfamiliar, or was it? It was hard to tell. In her bed, Chartreuse stirred and when she approached wakefulness, her consciousness begged with her to remain asleep. With awareness came pain, dreadful pain, her body was stiff and achy, almost as if she had some debilitating flu. In particular, her left foreleg had some mighty unpleasant sensations that she wasn’t ready to sort out.

“Chartreuse, you must forgive me, but I wish to speak with you. My time is precious and limited. I have only but a moment that I can spare to converse with you, for I am exhausted after my nightly labours and the duties expected of me.”

Too-warm pillows were just the worst and as Chartreuse’s mind roused itself from slumber, she knew that her pillow needed a good turning over. Her body was warm—far too warm in some places, the hot, achy places that seemed to have their own heartbeats. Warmth brought about by pain was the worst sort of warmth that Chartreuse could think of. Her jaw was stiff, her teeth hurt, and she gained a keen awareness of the three stitches in the corner of her mouth.

Opening her eyes, which was quite a difficult task, really, she saw blue, too much blue. “Princess Luna!”

Thrashing about, she tried to get out of bed, which sent shooting, stabbing pains through her body. It was enough to make her see stars though, and before she could get out of the bed to give the visiting princess her due, a powerful force held Chartreuse down, almost smothering her. Even pinned down, she struggled to rise, to get out of her bed so that she might get down upon the floor and prostrate herself before the Night Lady, as was proper.

“Hold still.” The words carried magical compulsion and Chartreuse was powerless to resist them. “You really are obtuse! What is to be done with you?”

Whimpering, Chartreuse went still and then was overcome by all of the pain in her body. This made her wiggle a bit more, even though she tried to stay still, and she curled up into a fetal position when the agony overwhelmed her. Princess Luna’s kind face remained in her vision though, and a great deal of emotion could be seen manifesting in a myriad of expressions.

“I came to congratulate you on a job well done,” Princess Luna said in the softest, most soothing of whispers. “And to check on you. You saw things… truly dreadful things… and for a time, you were possessed.”

Right away, the reminder proved to be too much and the entirety of Chartreuse’s body revolted. A slithering disembodied reproductive organ came to mind, but beyond that, past the shape and form it took, was the creature itself. She had seen them. With her own eyes, she had looked upon them. A soft sob escaped her swollen lips and she curled even tighter into the fetal position while Princess Luna looked on.

And then, Chartreuse remembered that she had gazed into Tartarus itself.

It proved to be too much, it was all too much. The pink fire was gone, and with it the protection it had offered, the cheerful warmth that had sustained her. What she had seen was too awful to be remembered, but it remained somehow in the corner of her mind’s eye, offering horrifying, teasing glimpses of the great and mysterious unknown, a realm beyond mortal comprehension.

Even worse were the memories of it being inside of her, a deeper and far more terrifying realisation of the metaphorical form that one of the imps had taken. One of the imps had gone beyond merely taking the shape of what scared her—she had been violated and once inside of her body, the dreadful shadowling had abused her, molested her. The knowledge of it now, in the golden light of morning was almost too much to bear, and when Chartreuse squeezed her eyes shut, tears came out in a flood, somehow pushing past the floodgates that were her eyelids.

“My beloved little pony, I am truly sorry that you came to have this intimate understanding of the nature of evil.” There was immense warmth and sincerity in Princess Luna’s voice, but also sorrow and regret. “What you faced, they took on your worst fears… the fears of most fillies your age… those who are in transition and cannot bear to face the painful embarrassment of sorting everything out. This is a time when you are at your most vulnerable, and your fears were exploited.”

Try as she might, Chartreuse could not contain her sobs, and blubbered even as the princess stood watching.

“Dim is grieving your loss and he is taking this hard. He is a foolish little pony, but he is dear to me because of his faults. He insists that you were not ready for such a test, but he is wrong, Chartreuse… he is wrong. Were you not ready, I do believe that you might have died. The very fact that you lived, for whatever reason, is testament to your readiness. Dim will see this in time, but do allow him his foolish sentiments.”

Feathers, warm and soft, tickled Chartreuse’s ears, and she took comfort in the soft, reassuring touch. Princess Luna’s words had a ring of truth to them. Sure, the pink flames had come once again to bolster her, but Chartreuse knew that she was a worthy vessel for said flames… otherwise, they would not have come. In this, she took comfort, and a bit of pride. Sniffling, snuffling, the sobs subsided a bit and Chartreuse felt her face being wiped with the corner of her blanket. Still, she wept.

“This happened at a time when you are most vulnerable, and it is a fear that I understand, truly I do. It will hurt for a time, but make no mistake, you will heal, and you will grow strong. Already, you show great potential. You are a bold filly, Chartreuse. You boldly came to the Crystal Empire, you boldly sought out one of the most powerful ponies in all of Equestria, you boldly requested that Emperor Shining Armor of the Crystal Empire be your master, and you boldly thought of him as a unicorn, separating him from his role as Emperor. Last night, you boldly went up the stairs, alone I might add, and you boldly faced an evil that was waiting, prepared, and ready for you. Whereupon your arrival at the chosen battlefield, you boldly delivered the most savage ass-whuppin you could muster.”

So shocked was poor Chartreuse by Princess Luna’s words that she ceased to weep.

“If you do nothing else for the entirety of your life, you have established yourself as being bold, Chartreuse. Sadly, the bold do not deal with boredom well and typically become disturbers of the peace. Such will likely be your fate.”

“Oh no,” Chartreuse whined, “I would never be a disturber of the peace, that would be… uncouth.”

“Your claim is dubious and leaves me with great doubt,” Princess Luna deadpanned.

“Will the light fade for me?” Chartreuse asked, baring her heart to the Princess of the Night.

“You have been listening to Dim.”

“He is my master, if I did not listen to him, he would scold me, and his scoldings are dreadful.”

“As well they should be.” Princess Luna maintained her deadpan but her expression softened as her extreme exhaustion crept over her features. “Dim has some pessimistic viewpoints… it isn’t that things are black and white for him, because they are not, but he suffers from a wounded mind. As I am sure you have realised by now, Dim is totally, thoroughly, completely grey in his nature and he seeks justification. For Dim, those who join the night are those who are like him—morally grey without being evil. This is what he believes, and he is a fervent believer, because it eases his isolation and his loneliness.”

“You did not answer my question, but you did an excellent job of diverting my attention.” Tears trickled down as Chartreuse found the strength to raise her head from her pillow. It felt as though she had been struck by a train, and the truth wasn’t far off. “Shining Armor is a dutiful instructor, though his lessons are brief.”

“The appeal of the light doesn’t have to fade.” Princess Luna sighed out the words and sounded rather defeated. “There are those who tread between night and day. Princess Twilight Sparkle lives up to her name and she walks a very difficult path. Prince Gosling too, makes a valiant effort to find a balance, for my sake, and it makes his life one of great difficulty.”

“There is something you’re not telling me.”

“Still bold, Chartreuse.” Princess Luna’s eyes flashed and her folded wings flapped once against her sides. “In time, it will grow very difficult for you. The more you embrace certain things, the unknown mysterious things that are triggers for foolish superstition, the more the ponies of the day will reject you. You will become like the very things that they don’t understand, the things that they fear, you will become a representation of the unknown to them. This was my undoing, but it doesn’t have to be this way for you. Become a wizard. Perform alchemy. Root yourself in what is known, what is comforting, and what is familiar.”

With great sadness, Chartreuse saw the truth of things. “We both know that I won’t do that, Princess Luna. Not after last night. Knowing what is out there, what lurks in the night, I cannot in good conscience turn away. After what was done to me… after having that… thing inside of me, violating me and controlling my flesh… I will keep going up the stairs, alone if necessary, and I will seek these things out to destroy them.”

“Then yes,” Princess Luna began, “the light will fade for you. For you to fight these creatures, you must become like they are.” The Night Lady sighed, a weary sound, and gave a sorrowful shake of her head. “I have left you a book, it rests upon your table just beneath your eyeglasses. It is a book for a privileged few, a grimoire of powerful knowledge for those who take up the call to battle. The knowledge within can be used for great evil… but it can also be used to combat evil. After your actions last night, you have shown that you can be trusted.”

“What is the book?” Chartreuse asked.

“You shall see soon enough,” Princess Luna replied, her words both tired and teasing. “I need rest and so do you. Be well, Chartreuse the Bold, and may your courage be equal to the vividity of your colouration.”

“Thank you.” She lifted her head a little more and then Chartreuse looked Princess Luna in the eye, a bold move. “I will prove worthy of your trust, Princess Luna.”

Bowing, the Night Lady then turned around, let out a fillyish laugh, and vanished down the hole in the floor. Chartreuse blinked a few times, her eyes still stinging from her tears, and maybe, perhaps from the light as well. She pulled her right foreleg free from beneath the blankets, wiped her face with it, and decided that she needed a shower, or maybe a hot bath. Afterwards, she would fix a meal, some tea, and check out her new book. That would be fine.

For now, while it lasted, she would cherish the light and all it gave her.





On the stove, the kettle fussed as it began to warm and beside it, upon another burner, some tinned soup was heating in a saucepan. Chartreuse hadn’t even paid attention to what it was, only that it was rather orange coming out of the tin. So distracted was she that she failed to notice the delightful smell when the tin had been cracked open.

She had the house all to herself, at least for now, with her companions attending their classes. Sitting at the table, she reached out with her telekinesis and gave the soup a good stirring. Content that all was well, Chartreuse lifted the book that Princess Luna had left for her, which was heavy in a manner most disturbing.

Of course, it didn’t help that the book was bound in leather of all things.

There was nothing on the cover, nothing on the spine, just a plain cover that couldn’t decide if it was faded black or weathered grey. The book stunk of magic, resisted being held, and didn’t seem keen on being opened. Chartreuse was forced to engage a contest of wills and after a brief struggle, was the victor.

Inside, on the very first plate she found the words, Ex Libris Exorcista.

These words were very difficult to look at, because they moved, shifted, and played tricks on her eyes in much the same way that the shadowlings had. Chartreuse, a clever filly, realised that by forcing herself to look directly at the unknowable eldritch horrors, she had opened her eyes—forcibly it could be said—and now, as a direct consequence, she could see the words scribed in this grimoire.

She thought of the shadowling still trapped in glass, and savoured the time spent waiting. When she was ready, she would go outside, perhaps after some lunch, but for right now there was a book that was rather sulky about her having a look at it. What curious ink had penned these words that it rejected light and sight?

When her left foreleg brushed up against the book, there was a curious sensation, a peculiar buzzy tingle that was almost uncomfortable. A few pages in, she found a folded up sheet of parchment with her name upon it. Curious, she unfolded it, gave it a shake, and adjusted her glasses so that she might see the tiny letters better.



Dearest Bold Filly,

You opened the book as I knew you would and no doubt, you have already begun your clever observations. Perhaps I could interest you in an ancient calling, one that has fallen out of favour but there is great need for. Last night, you were possessed; this is a unique condition that is almost always fatal. Few survive it, and those that do gain magical resistance. Some go on to survive the next possession, and the next, gaining valuable, precious resistance. As you no doubt have already figured out, the circumstances to gain this invaluable resistance are quite unique.

The book is written in shadowling ink, the squeezed, distilled essence of imps. By learning to read it, by gaining command over it, you will also learn how to look upon them and gain command over them. Your eyes have been opened, Bold One, and great mysteries have been revealed to you. If the book gives you too much trouble, do give it a smack with your purged limb, which has now transmogrified to become an anathema to fell and infernal creatures. You purified your own limb with iron, which is something that even one such as I cannot even begin to imagine; the pain must have been excruciating, the very essence of nightmares. It causes me to shiver when I think of it.

I assure you, any sounds, cries, whimpers, and or howls of pain are illusions, as I sincerely doubt the book can feel any sensation, though that is a matter of scholarly debate. It was crafted with ancient magics and each word, each letter was written with pen tipped with cold iron.

At some point, Bold One, you will be fitted with iron shoes.

Best of luck with your righteous smiting,

Luna, Princess of the Night.



“Exorcist,” Chartreuse said to herself, saying as if it were a fancy dress that she tried on for size. Eyes narrowing, she looked down at her left forelimb, trying to make sense of what had been done to it, and all she could think of was just how close she had come to transitioning into shadehood. The memory of the iron pressing into her flesh and the ensuing pain was almost too much to bear and when her eyes welled up with tears, she clutched her weird limb to her barrel.

It had been violated. She had been violated. No, she knew that she should not treat her violated limb as a separate entity, it was still her. Cradling her leg, she gave it a hug and thinked reassuring thinks at it, to let it know that she still loved it. The warm smell of saffron, squash, and beans filled the kitchen, and though Chartreuse could not be certain, it seemed as though her limb was responding to the warm, positive affection, as well as the cosy mood.

“You and I,” she said to her leg in the warmest, most affectionate tone she could muster, “you and I, we’re going to be just fine.” Her stitched lip was stinging now and she was in need of something to soothe the pain. Yes, her limb had tried to kill her, but it could be forgiven.

Folding up her precious letter, Chartreuse hugged it to her chest along with her weirded limb. It felt good to be trusted, to be Shining Armor’s apprentice, and to have both Sunburst and Dim as her teachers. She was grateful for her friends too, Chalcedony, who was dear to her for obvious reason, and Nomination, who understood the burden, the weight of nobility.

Chartreuse knew that if she could face the shadowlings, certainly she could face Nomination’s mother…