Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot

by Equimorto

Yt Lyvds

The two ponies were asleep in their bed. They had been there for a couple of days already, and would continue to be there. A couple, not married, without foals, a stallion and a mare. No pets. On vacation, no work obligations. Officially, they'd been planning a trip. They'd never made any luggage, but that didn't matter. The way the blinds were permanently closed suggested that they had left without telling, and none was bothered by that. No one had seen them leave of course, but the few who'd questioned it with themselves had figured they'd most probably simply left at a late or early time, caught a particular train. And how many ponies could care and question about a single pair?

It had been very careful. It needed to be. It had grown. It had grown large, too large to even pass through some doors. It had left behind its old shell in a corner of its previous attic, and it had already outgrown the body that had followed that since taking over that house. It slowly roamed its corridors, twisting them and building its lair bit by bit, and in the meantime it planned and schemed. It had grown more intelligent as it had grown in size. Every once in a while, it would return to the bedroom, the least altered room in the house, and feast on the ponies' dreaming minds as they lay unconscious.

It had started to lay eggs. Few and small, they would not hatch soon, and would do so to creatures little more than small insects. Still, it had found that to be the best course of action. It had not initially planned to render the house into its lair, but realising it would not move out of it it had seen fit to make it so. To bring more of its realm into that world and build a nest for itself where from it could most comfortably initiate the final stages of its plan, at the same time creating a far harder environment for anyone who might approach it to navigate.

The halls were growing darker. Turning on themselves. It crawled and slithered through them like a spider on its web, moving unnaturally fast through the ethereal edges of unreality it has weaved into the walls and ceiling and floor. Its many legs moved with snappy, silent precision, long shadows cast on the wooden furniture by stray blades of light that filtered in through blinds and curtains when the Sun shone at the right angles.

Its hunger grew. No longer sheer instinct and need for sustenance and survival, sapience had twisted it into a want, a craving gleefully enjoyed. It did not merely need to feed, it wished to hunt. It longed for the moment it would strike its next prey and revelled in nourishing itself upon its captives. It thought with ecstasy back upon its survival and escape, drunk on its own pride. It wished, it hungered for its approaching revenge.

Comments

[Speckle]

Is this...is this what's left of Not!Nightmare Moon?

[Saix]

It had started to lay eggs.