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