FROM: Starswirl the Bearded, Magistro Magices, First of the Six, Banisher of Shadow, Chosen of the Crown.
TO: Chancellor Neighsay, Canterlot.
Chancellor, we are on the precipice of disaster.
As soon as you receive this missive, you must start the Artifacts—the ones the Princesses trusted in your care. Worry not. The spell is quite simple; I’ve no doubt a child could cast it. I beg you to act fast, however. Time is of the essence, and if we do not act accordingly, our entire existence is moot. Do it first, and only then finish reading.
I regret having to tell you this, esteemed Chancellor, but there are horrors beyond our realm. Horrors so profound, they make the Pony of Shadows pale in comparison! And I fear it may have been I, who has led those horrors right to our homeworld.
Allow me to start from the beginning:
Early last evening, I was ‘being educated’ at the Unnamed Castle in Ponyville on all the numerous changes that had taken place during my time in Limbo. Advancements both technological and magical beyond my wildest dreams, architectural wonders, and monumental works of construction were then made known to me. Yet, I found, none was as important as the ascension of a unicorn into alicornhood; a subject matter that Equestria’s greenhorn Princess, Twilight, was just as eager to explain as I was to learn.
She had only begun showing me her collection of complex diagrams when I had to interrupt her as if I wouldn’t recognize my own work.
“Unfinished?” I asked. “What do you mean ‘unfinished’?”
It was preposterous! A travesty. Simply unfathomable. My work was most certainly not unfinished. I did not believe I had ever in my entire life felt such insult, not even in the Griffon courts of old.
I was about to demand her Highness an explanation for her jest when Starlight Glimmer, the alicorn’s star pupil, happened to overhear our conversation. With her, she had only a single parchment, the ink still wet.
There is no proper way to describe the disgust I felt upon reading it.
She called it her newest thaumic discovery. Had I been able to speak coherently, I would have called it an abomination. Her perversion of the most beautiful of my theorems was positively revolting.
‘It couldn’t be right,' I thought. She claimed to be capable of opening a portal through worlds!
Long ago, when Equestria was young, I had no peer. There were no alicorns. There were no prodigal unicorns who could destroy mountains with their telekinesis and no books for them to learn such spells from. Magic was my specialty, and mine alone. Thus, I was sure that if one such portal had lead to a world beyond our beloved Equestria, I’d have known about it.
Even if I’d never bothered to check.
I forced myself to read the mare’s equations over. Again and again. My eyes stung, yet, as I parsed through Miss Glimmer’s thesis for the umpteenth time, I found no typo, no error in calculation, no fault in logic. In lieu of finding a fault, I turned to the mare and told her exactly what I thought of her work.
That was my gravest mistake. I asked her for a demonstration. She obliged.
On the outside, the portal was nothing special: an ordinary five-dimensional wormhole spell matrix spread vertically over a two-by-three-dimensional plane. But when I went to step in, my hooves met resistance. A view of a world, darkened by night, glistened before my eyes, yet I wasn’t allowed to step in and banish all doubt.
The purple forehoof strained to hold me back. I was surprised by the alicorn’s lack of earth pony strength. “What are you doing?” Twilight demanded.
“You say this portal will lead to another world,” I replied, “how else would you have me disprove such a ridiculous notion?”
“You don’t know what’s in there. It could be dangerous. You could get hurt!”
It seemed I wasn’t going to get through to the alicorn. Then her own student stepped up, grinning in a way that reminded me eerily of Flash Magnus, in his prime, at his worst. “Yeah. You should get somepony to accompany you.”
‘It had to be an elaborate hoax on their part,’ I thought, ‘they wanted to bring the great Starswirl down to the level of commoners.' I held onto the idea out of a vain hope that my most complex theorems had not just been stomped on by a filly barely old enough to be called an adult. Hoping to gain a witness for when my knowledge prevailed, I agreed to Starlight’s proposition.
Twilight objected. She cited old adventurers, listed equipment, but upon seeing the determined look on her own student’s face, she could only nod defeatedly. She agreed to stay behind and ensure the portal didn’t close prematurely.
And so, with little fanfare, Starlight and I stepped through.
My hooves immediately found solid ground underneath. A gentle wind blew and ruffled the hairs on my coat. Our surroundings were hidden in near-pitch darkness, illuminated only by the portal’s residual glow, and once I looked up, I understood why. Neither of the two celestial orbs hung above. Therein drifted only a blanket of dark clouds, with the most peculiar smatterings of yellow and red on the horizon that could not have been caused by the sunset at so late an hour.
Initial testing proved magic unusable. I heard the thoughtful ‘hum’ of my companion as she came to that very same conclusion. I assured myself that we still had to be somewhere in Equestria. The absence of magic and celestial bodies meant nothing.
Further surveying our surroundings came next, and with it, my first failure at controlling myself. Succumbing to my growing impatience, I set out walking before my eyes had the time to adjust. Luckily I did so at a hesitant pace. Otherwise, I would have plunged right off the cliff.
We were on a tall mountain- or hillside, that much was evident. Once I’d gotten accustomed to the low lighting, I ascertained we were on what appeared to be a road, formidably wide, though whether naturally formed or artificially made, I still am not sure. The road’s size and hardened surface implied that the creatures moving thereon had to be of similar grand, hard-shelled size. I was unable to come up with such a species at the time, and so, for our safety, I deemed it best to avoid engaging in case we were to come into contact.
Upon further inspection, however, I realized that the road did not consist of the same rock as the mountain, but rather of some heretofore unknown material that was more uniform and much less prone to flaking and fracturing. For all I could tell, it was exquisitely flat, slightly rough on the surface, black or dark grey in color, and despite several of my best attempts, I failed to procure a sample. The purpose of the two yellow lines in the middle likewise eluded me.
I had to shush Starlight. I was having too much difficulty examining the ground to listen to what she had to say.
We set out on the road walking, Starlight choosing the direction via bit-toss. I committed the place to memory. Our return hinged on that one tear we’d made in the in-between; we couldn’t afford to get lost.
At this point I wish to highlight, for it is crucial when picturing this odd place, that everything we came across was magnified in size. It was something that I did not think to rationalize at the time, yet played a role in springing a sense of great unease within me. Had I thought it then, I would surely have blamed it on the two mares and their trickery. The unexpected increase in scale sadly also meant that we had much less time to complete our excursion. We could only keep the portal functional for a certain amount of time before the magic failed, which meant I had to make careful use of my limited time.
I kept a close eye on our surroundings, though there wasn’t much of it. The flora was mostly shrubberies, with a hoofful of enormous conifers, of which I was only able to see their tops, rising up beyond the edge of the cliff. I pondered, hoping to remember someplace in Equestria that fit the description. I failed. We kept walking.
Only once did Starlight stray while we traversed, and that was when she caught a glimpse of something hanging above us. The thin slab could only have been a sign of sorts, though neither of us could deduce what its message was. Its alien markings bore no resemblance to anything equine minds had ever created, yet the markings still managed to strike me with a sense of familiarity, as if I’d seen them somewhere on Equus. I entertained ideas that it may have had some vague resemblance with the ancient scrolls of the minotaurs, or possibly the pagan scriptures of the zebras. Still, to prove myself right and uncover the mares’ ploy, it was wholly insufficient. I needed more evidence.
Here and there did we encounter similar slabs, and we did our best to copy much of their imagery. Starlight was seemingly amused by my attempts, though I must say, hers weren’t much better. Without the use of our horns, we hadn’t come up with an accurate means of transcription and only managed crude charcoal approximations. I will send you the drawings via courier when I next have the chance.
What we came across next was no less mystifying an enigma than the symbols: a lean-to, for I can only assume it was a one, sitting at an extension off the cliff’s lip. The nearly-enclosed structure was missing one of its thinner than thin walls so that its insides were laid bare. I must admit that although I’ve distantly borne witness to the new Capital and its wonder, never before have I ever seen anything quite like the cuboid.
Questions flooded my mind. What was this peculiar piece of construction? What was its purpose: was it a temple, a shrine, a memorial? And more importantly, why was there a sign on top, angled towards the road and not the entrance?
Starlight offhoofedly said something I paid little attention to, so focused was I on the peculiar feeling of intrusion that had overcome me. In hindsight, I feel that such a sensation may not have been the fault of that place but, inexplicably, us ourselves trespassing. I feared to step underneath it, even for the sake of scientific discovery. Despite her objections, I had to hold my companion back as we left the shelter there and pushed on, having had more questions raised than answered. Seeing is believing, yet I found the structure wholly unimaginable in its impossible construction. Were I to come forth with a similar design, the entire engineering community would laugh me out for suggesting something so ludicrous.
You couldn’t build a house out of nothing but glass.
I began to grow agitated. We’d spent all this time walking, and we had yet to come across any sign of equine life. I’d kept a tally in my head on how long the portal would stay open and realized that we would soon have to turn back. I had failed to prove the mares’ hoax, and my pride weighed heavy. Thus it was to my boundless joy the road opened up to a mighty plateau not much later.
We hadn’t reached the summit, no; the spire kept climbing higher into the inky blackness of the sky. I didn’t spend much time studying the mountain, however, as the valley spread before us had stolen my attention.
It was all created, not spawned, that much is certain. The thousand, million, too many to count buildings were to our cities what Canterlot is to a tiny rural farming town like Ponyville: a metropolis that defied all scope of comprehension. The houses were of the most inexplicable, pulsating shapes and colors, with the highest, centermost ones even piercing the very heavens! Their lights shone up, painting the horizon with the sickly pallor that we had from afar witnessed. But even viler than these gargantuan structures was this strange noise, echoing from within the valley.
It didn’t start quite as a hum, hanging about the air, but I can hardly find another word to describe it. Distant yet loud enough to reach our lofty position, the sound was followed by an unsettling array of voices yelling, laughing, together with a screeching so high-pitched a living being could never have made it. But the hum was the loudest.
Our time now wholly spent, I found myself glad that we wouldn’t have the time to meet one of the world’s inhabitants. I turned back around and gave the city one last look over my shoulder. Somewhere far up above, something twinkled.
The hair on my back stood on its end. I grabbed Starlight by the hoof and proceeded to drag us both out of the plateau as fast as I equinely could.
Our startled fledging belies the horror I felt at that moment. The unassuming twinkle that I had spotted had at first seemed nothing more than a star peeking through the cloud cover, when it suddenly and inexplicably moved. Surrounded by a silhouette, it led me to believe it a local avian, little larger than a sparrow but with intriguing illuminating powers. An undiscovered species perhaps. What followed was my last, terrifying realization, when that ordinary avian vanished behind a cloud thousands of feet high and lowered through it before angling itself towards us.
It was a bird of monstrous proportions, dwarfing that of the biggest rocs and even dragons. The way it crossed the skies, its speed could only have been an order of magnitude above those of the fastest pegasi, surpassing even that of the Wonderbolts. Had it decided to give chase, without our magic, there was little either one of us could have done.
We galloped for our lives. Starlight was yelling over the wind, but I couldn’t hear her over the rush. I ran ahead, as fast as my old knees allowed, forgoing pacing myself. I quickly ran out of breath, but I pushed past the exhaustion, focusing solely on the hope of seeing the portal again.
Then a spot of light shone upon my back, and, for a moment, I was sure I wasn’t going to make it.
“Look out!”
I had barely enough time to catch a glimpse of something violently red speed past where I had been mere moments before. Starlight had reacted in the nick of time and pushed us both out of its way. Not quite as fortunately, however, she did so in the direction of the cliff.
I flailed with my forehooves, trying to gain purchase, and managed to grab onto a protruding rock that was of the sturdy sort. We’d fallen maybe half a dozen feet. Though the drop had not been steep, I still injured my side upon tripping, which is to say nothing of what happened to my savior who, eyes shut in a pained grimace, clung to my free forehoof precariously. I bit my tooth and used up every last ounce of strength in my old muscles to pull us up and away from the chasm. Through trial and error, I then found enough stepping stones to climb back up to the road.
I hauled Starlight on my back and set out, limping. Luckily, her name becomes her; she was very light. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing serenely, but I could tell she was fighting to stay conscious. And with every glance I used to ensure that she stayed on my back, I was filled with regret.
The mare had played an integral part in defeating the Pony of Shadows, had found a way to perfect my design in a way never before thought possible, and had saved my life. Who was I to think so little of her as to believe she’d set this all up just to wound my precious pride?
I trod the entire way back to the portal, but whether those steps took an hour or half a day, I cannot tell, for I was too numb to care. Nonetheless, Starlight and I did reach it in time, and we come to the final horror I must impart on you.
I dropped my companion through first before collapsing from exhaustion. The edges of the portal had already begun to flicker. Heaving, my chest burning within, I decided to lay one last look on the entire wretched world before leaving it behind for good. I was about to step through myself, when I was stopped by the burnt scent permeating the air.
Beyond the portal, where the road went on further into the night, the red abomination to which I’d nearly fallen victim rumbled. Its growling was the most unnatural and guttural sound that set the most primitive of my instincts into overdrive. I was frozen in shock, unable to move, unable even to breathe. Its terror was beyond dominating, and defied description, yet, no matter how terrifying the beast may have seemed, I wish it had been the terrifying one.
The second being might have at first glance seemed less imposing, with it's thin and tall frame and its head cocked to its side. Much akin to a minotaur, or the very incarnate of Chaos, it twiddled and pointed its bald fingers. Its two beady, carnivorous eyes bored into me as it traipsed closer, balancing on its two freakish legs. It was so wholly inequine, yet, at the same time, it wasn’t. Out of everything I'd witnessed, this was the last thing that I wished had ever existed.
Then it opened its mouth, and spoke.
My mind went blank. My vision blind. My body working on its own accord, I plunged into the portal before it closed behind me.
Do not for a moment think low enough to doubt me: every experience described here is true, as true as words can portray them. I’m not proud of giving in to my cowardice or my pride, but at the same time, I can attest that those were the very qualities that saved me, and allowed me to relate this tale of nightmares. For in that final moment, when my eyes connected with those of the bipedal creature, be it nothing but a momentary glimpse, I realized that that being must’ve held knowledge beyond my wildest dreams. That creature had to have been nothing short of the creator, the god, of its own realm and therefore leagues above me.
Because the way it looked at me had been like I was nothing more than its pet.
The door’s rattling. It’s Twilight. I fear the beings must’ve corrupted her somehow. She’s trying to stop us!
Quick, Chancellor, start the Artifacts. Drain the Magic. Before anypony else can open a portal to that Harmony-forsaken world, and let them through!