The Blackheart Forest

by Sabre_Cat

First published

A choose your own adventure book! Play as Dark Ether, an intelligent mage obsessed with fame, big words, and a rare school of dark magic. Guide him on his quest to harvest the power of the Black Heart and become Equestria's most powerful sorcerer.

Dark Ether, one of the last practitioners of the rare school of dark magic, ethereal magic, wants nothing more than to be known far and wide across Equestria as the greatest sorcerer who ever lived.

After writing countless reports on the nature of magic and spells and failing at every turn to get known through them, he one day finds what he thinks is the key to his destiny: The Blackheart Forest. If he can successfully travel across Equestria to reach and ensnare it with his magics, he stands to become the Lord of the Void--master of the ethereal realms.

But only after he pays a price for it.

The only thing he needs now is a helpful overseer to set him on his way, and that's where you come into play.


Opening

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The Blackheart Forest

A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Fic

Written By: Sabr3cat


“The world is currently filled with and always has been filled with all manner of perils. Manticores, cragadiles, gargoyles, and more--to say nothing of the environment and the arcane. The numbers the list reaches to simply skyrocket, and it’s no wonder Equestria is known far and wide as being just as harmonious as it is dangerous. But, if there was anything I’d like you to know before you take your leave and depart from my company here today, it’s that all of these elements--every single one of them--pale in comparison to one fateful form of doom. My students, if there was ever anything so dark in these realms that it could consume the whole world with it’s terrible evil, it would have to be the heart of a pony--the heart of one of our own.”

-Star Swirl the Bearded to his students in the Canterlot Magic School

>Enter your new domain.

Somepony Great

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A thunderous boom roared on, followed by the pounding of rain and whatever else errantly blew around in the wind from the nighttime storm outside. It’s late, and you’re definitely tired, but your mind’s fixed to “more important” things. You’ve grown so used to being a night owl that staying up late like this is practically a sport for you. An art.

Horn glowing with magic and head staring down over a table, your quill touches down upon the parchment below. It’s ready to execute. To finally end this godforsaken report on magic that you know everypony in Canterlot (and most definitely beyond) is going to love when they see it. The perfect way to cast an effective summoning spell that’s still just as potent as the traditional method, but that utilizes only half of the original resources, written by the very humble ethereal mage--Dark Ether. Genius. Absolute genius. All that’s left is to wrap it up with a simple conclusion. A witty or encouraging end sentence, if you will. But just what should you choose…?

>“In conclusion, not all things in this world are static and set-in-stone; if you apply the science just as it was taught in school, you’ll soon find yourself adding to it.”
>“To conclude, magic is a boundless art with countless avenues to explore, but make no mistake, it is a science too; learn that science’s ways and learn them well, and you’ll soon come to find that anything is possible with it.”
>“In conclusion, the end goal is to work hard and study harder; if you do both of those things and do them right, you may just find yourself conjuring some success of your own!”

The Formal Approach

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Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, you write the final sentence and set your quill back in it’s ink pot, warm and dignified in the face of your achievement. Your body groans again for rest, but you resolutely ignore it, stretch your hooves out, and wipe the gunk out that’s built up in the corner of your eye. If only your body was on the same track as your brain. You lift the paper up to your view, scanning it up and down, ready to read the words that will shake the magic community to its core.

Only… something’s wrong.

The words are all there, and so too is the information. Every increment and measurement was accounted for. Every possible variable was considered. Everything was formatted, spelled correctly, and neatly laid out in an easy-to-read medium that even held what you found to be--no, what surely was--an entertaining personality in the narration. It all should be perfect, but it’s just… not.

>Read through the piece, word for word, to see if you can find the mistake that’s setting you off.
>Set the page down and take a breather, then carefully proofread and probe for mistakes.
>Once more try to refine the conclusion sentence.

The "Witty" Approach

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You set your quill down in it’s ink pot and hold the paper up to your gaze. The final statement gives you a little chuckle. Maybe it was a little too strong? No, no, you think it’s fine. No, you’re certain it’s fine. The pun also rises, does it not?

Or… does it only fall?

Easily fixed. Easily rewritten. It’s just an end statement, after all. By Celestia, it’s almost meaningless! You’re fine!

But what if it isn’t that? What if it’s something… different? You check through every sentence. Every word. Every character. All of it in an attempt to find this one trouble that besets you. This one thing that feels off.

But no matter how hard you search, you just can’t seem to figure it out. You’re not sure why, but you worry that your paper is doomed.

>Read through the piece a second time, word for word, to see if you can find the mistake that’s setting you off.
>Set the page down and take a breather, then carefully proofread and probe for mistakes.
>Once more try to refine the conclusion sentence.

Word for Word

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Starting once more from the top, it should be very, very simple. You examine every word in every sentence--careful not to overanalyze--just to see if you can locate what’s wrong. To see if anything sticks out to you. Maybe this time it will seem fine. Heck, maybe it’ll be better. But the second reading seems only to disagree.

The pacing feels too quick. No, too slow? The vocabulary isn’t large and descriptive enough. A commoner could match it if he had any idea what a synonym and a dictionary was. The measurements and increments are accounted for, yes, but are they all on the nose? Are they as precise as you intended them to be? You can’t be certain, and as an aspiring scientist and student of the arcane, that simply won’t do. You want so desperately to believe in your work, to know in your heart that this will be the thing that drives your success home. But, in the end, it is folly. A fruitless pursuit. You would sooner be a laughingstock than somepony of greatness.

You ball the paper and toss it into a trash can, but can’t even seem to make it land where it’s supposed to. What an inaccurate shot.

>Pick up the paper ball and put it in the trash can.
>Check on the pouring rain from a nearby window.
>Pace back and forth like you always do.

Taking a Breather

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You lean back into your chair, taking a much-needed breather. You try to let your muscles relax, but they’re tense as always. You brush that off though--you don’t care. You’ve never been slowed down by mundane things like that before and by Celestia, you’re not going to now.

The rain comes down hard on your quaint little urban, Canterlot home, beating from the ceiling above. You find yourself thankful for your roof. Who knows what’d happen if all that water came pouring down on your books, your studies! A mess that would not only be physical in nature, but psychological, and on multiple levels. Ready and able, you take in another deep, hopeful breath and lift the paper up to your gaze again.

You instantly conclude that it’s trash. YOU are trash.

You shoot it off to where it truly belongs--in a can nearby. Seems you can’t even make an accurate shot. It’s no wonder you were never one much for sports.

>Pick up the paper ball and put it in the trash can.
>Check on the pouring rain from a nearby window.
>Pace back and forth like you always do.

Refining the Conclusion

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An improper ending can leave the audience feeling betrayed, can’t it? And that’s just the average reader. What of the observative types? What of the critics? No, if you want a proper report, then you need to sell these ponies with the whole package. You need to seal the deal with a right, proper conclusion.

You kick back and theorize, rubbing your eyes and banging your hooves against your head. Think. Think. Think! If encouragement or puns wouldn’t work, then what will? What else is there? What could you use that wouldn’t make you look drab? There must be something out there that will suit your needs. Some special statement that will shock and awe and surprise, and even… TERRIFY! Something!

You look down at your report again. At all the ink scribblings, drawings, and statistics. You skim it down from top to bottom, and you just simply know. You know that no puns, encouragement, or wrathful finales will save this report. It is like trying to reanimate a corpse (a dangerous magical practice, even when done properly) with duct tape and glue. Mages would sooner mock you than read this.

You ball up the paper and throw it into the trash can nearby, but can’t even seem to make the proper shot. It tumbles down to the floor on the side.

>Pick up the paper ball and put it in the trash can.
>Check on the pouring rain from a nearby window.
>Pace back and forth like you always do.

Putting Things Where They Belong

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Horn once more aglow, you’re not content to leaving your files and works and pieces in places they have no business to be in. You take the balled up report and promptly drop it into the trash can--from where it shall never be seen again.

You want to wonder. To think on what step it was you skipped. You always seem to skip steps, don’t you? Idiot.

You lean back into your chair again, yawning, but defiantly refusing to let your body drift off to Luna’s realm of slumber. There must have been something else to work on. To practice. Explore. Some element of the arcane you’re yet to discover.

The books off on your shelf looked rather alluring right now. Two alchemical books in particular: “Literally Explosive Brews”, and “The Poison Compendium”. How wonderfully volatile.

>Read “Literally Explosive Brews”.
>Read “The Poison Compendium”.

The Storm Over Yonder

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You get up from your seat, leaving the report to it’s fate on the floor. It was not even worthy of going through the extra effort of placing it in the trash can beside it.

The rain had picked up, and so too did the swirling wind outside. Against the walls and ceiling did both of these things graze over and beat, wanting desperately to force themselves in already, surely.

You move over to the window just nearby, watching the madness unfold outside. You think that madness is a funny name for it, given how peaceful it can be just to listen to rain come down after awhile. To take in, no matter how chaotic.

Lightning roars down again from somewhere in the distance, scaring your skeleton right out of your body. Maybe it wasn’t so peaceful after all…

A source of comfort would be nice right now. Maybe some good literature to soothe the bones that almost hit the abort button. Two books on alchemy in particular really seem to be calling your name from their places on the shelf. “Literally Explosive Brews”, and “The Poison Compendium”. Those definitely seem less chaotic.

>Read “Literally Explosive Brews”.
>Read “The Poison Compendium”.

Pace

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You rise from your seat, leaving the dreaded report to it’s fate next to the trash can. There were surely more important things to be done than obsessing over a ball that didn’t shoot cleanly through the hoop. Surely.

You pick an open space and line your trajectory up to the other side. Back and forth and back and forth, you pace. You pace and pace and pace. Thinking about the world, the Sun, the Moon, and all the things that shine down under them. You debate with yourself, questioning old concepts you once accepted as fact, recognizing the virtue of the opposition’s argument. Pacing wasn’t just a habit, it was a sport, and a sport you actually somehow managed to play quite well.

Your body is settled, but the gears in your mind still turn. Turn like the inner workings of a clockwork tower. Your eyes almost water up with how much they want to close, but sleep is not an option to you right now--not when you could be doing something productive instead.

A bookshelf just nearby seems the perfect place to start. On it, two books stick out in particular. “Literally Explosive Brews”, and “The Poison Compendium”. Lovely titles, those.

>Read “Literally Explosive Brews”.
>Read “The Poison Compendium”.

Literally Explosive Brews

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Walking over to the bookshelf, you pop open the tome on explosive potions somewhere near the center, hoping to be blown away by what you find.


“The Backwards Explosion”

My students, on this long, hard journey, we’ve seen potion upon potion that makes things scatter and combust with more color and variety than 7 sonic rainbooms. To name a few:

But alas, my students, there is one spell that I have thus far chosen to hide from you. So unique in it’s effect that it deserved it’s own chapter. But what is this you may ask? An Implosion Brew.

Allow me to elaborate: a normal potion from this book causes something explosive--something that moves outward. This potion moves in, and make no mistake, it is not to be trifled with. By drinking this potion, a pony’s very body will fold in on itself. Compressing and crunching and squishing together so hard until it is but a fleshy ball, then disappear entirely. The experience is understandably painful, but the ponies in question always come back unscathed 30 seconds later--likely gone in Etherium. The ingredients are as follows:


You’re not at all surprised by all the imaginative (and slightly gory) images that come to mind after having read that passage, but you’d sooner avoid images of other ponies suffering. You shut the book, a tad too chilled by what you just read, but still fascinated by Etherium and it’s magic. You place the book back in it’s place on the shelf and hear the thunder roar on again, but it doesn’t quite scare you anymore. Not like it did a short while ago, now that you’ve refreshed your brain with some quality nonfiction.

You scan through for a new book--something that will interest or inspire you--but none of them seem like they’re up to the task. None except for one, of course.
A murky black book in the corner.

A book you know all too well.

>Read the black book.

The Poison Compendium

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You walk over to the bookshelf and pull out the book on poison. Strange that, when in need of comfort, you’d turn to liquids that eat you from the inside out. But then again, based on the way you treat your body everyday, you might as well have been taking daily doses after all these years. You pop open the book at the center--no, near the end--and read whatever your eyes first fix to.


“A Venomous Poison”

Oh my friends, how this author does indeed despise the commoner’s pedestrian confusion between venoms and poisons. Such a simple topic, you’d think, but no--it seems the simpletons of this world can’t even earn their namesake.

Nonetheless, I shall not tarry. The only ponies who’d find their hooves on a book like this are not simpletons too simple for the title--they are toxicologists! Physicians! And mages! They are great minds that shall shape the world of tomorrow, and as such, I need not irritate myself any further (though I inevitably will).

For the sake of documentation, let it be known that poisons are absorbed or ingested. Poisonous animals deliver their chemicals if touched or consumed. Venom, on the other hoof, is always injected. Think scary, spear-like stingers or fangs.

Some of the Venomous Fauna in Equestria:

Some of the Poisonous Fauna in Equestria:

Now that we’re on the same page, it’s time to deviously break the rules. Poison and venom are different things that the body will take in through different methods, but what if, my dear friend, I were to inform of a certain… criss-cross… so to speak? What if I were to inform you that there were a way to introduce our meager little victims to poison and venom at the same time with the very same brew? My friends, what I speak of is fact--not fiction!

The recipe is as follows:

“The Serpentsting” (a most prestigious name, if I might add)

The turnout? What could all of these wonderful ingredients ever combine to make? Why, the most spectacular display you’ll have ever seen, my friend! Upon indigestion or adsorption, the victim will immediately succumb only to a minor fate: fatigue. As time passes, the fatigue escalates, and in the victim’s stomach spawns a trio of spectral, venomous serpents. Serpents who bite and bite and bite--piercing with their unholy fangs, right into the victim’s helpless organ. Neigh shall they cease ‘til thine victim falls flat on the floor, paralyzed by their puncturing kisses and unable to move. Only after the victim stops resisting will these snakes fade--back to Etherium from whence they came. The victim will not bleed given that fangs are those of a phantom creature, thus biting more into the soul than the physical body, but the end result is still half a minute of paralysis.

Makes you wonder whether poison or venom is superior, no?


You shut the book, mind now boggling with all the ways the ponies of Equestria can be tricked, then tortured with mere liquid and the magic of Etherium alone. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts of their suffering. These books sure were starting to seem like a really “good influence”. You set The Poison Compendium back where you found it and hear the thunder roar on again, but you’re not intimidated like before. There were many things worth wasting your time being scared of in this world, and thunder was definitely not one of them--not anymore.

You scan up and down, across and around the shelf for a new book that’ll fit your knowledge-craving tastes. There was no fiction to be had on these shelves, and rightfully so. Fiction never served a higher purpose, now did it? Only informatives passed inspection here.

You take notice to one book. One in particular. A black book with an old and murky cover.

A black book which you’re all too familiar with.

>Read the black book.

The Black Book

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There is no dust to be had on this cover. The corners are bent and the pages are yellow. This book sees plenty of use--opening and closing a dozen times a day. On the cover of that book is the void itself. The horror-like spatial bodies, shapes, and shadows of the ether--Etherium--a faraway realm of eternal darkness. “On Ethereal Magic” the title reads from it’s place at the top, “Written By: Shadowhoof”.

You pop it open to the first few pages. To the table of contents. The book is all too nostalgic, so a trip down memory lane is in order. You navigate through to the introduction and politely give it another audience in tribute.


“What is Ethereal Magic?”

A good question indeed, and one that only an open mind can accept. Welcome to the taboo world your magic professor never wanted you to be in. Enjoy yourself.

Ethereal magic is a form of dark magic channeled using energy from the realms of the ether. These quagmire voids settle on the name of Etherium, and they stretch infinitely beyond the petty reaches of the Sun and stars. It is a world where the impossible is possible. Where brightness is made into blackness.

Where reality is but a dream.

Most commonly, it is used for spells that summon creatures from different dimensions, manipulate the fabric of the universe, and alter reality at the user’s whim.

In the days of the past, ethereal mages were quite common. Their reality-bending skills were keystone to the creation of great nation states like the Crystal Empire and the modern Equestria. But as time passed, so too did favor for the wizards of the ether.

Often confused with the incantations of the black voodoo magic of Zebrica, the use of ethereal magic was deemed unholy and thus negligent. Ethereal mages everywhere either took on a new craft or went into hiding (sadly). While ethereal magic does indeed fall under the category of “dark magic” like the zebras’ voodoo, it is not evil nor forbidden (and neither is voodoo, for that matter).

Though the techniques are not lost, the practice is… unsavory... to most. In the times of today, many such unicorns who denounce ethereal spells are just as likely to unwittingly use them in their potions, chantings, and brews. It is thought to be forgotten, but in truth, it is used every day.


>Turn to the next page, “The Strengths and Weaknesses of Ethereal Magic”.
>Skip a few pages to “Common Ethereal Spells”.
>Search the table of contents for something new.

Strength and Weaknesses

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Lesson 1:

The Strengths and Weaknesses of Ethereal Magic

This is a very complex subject, as most things are regarding the magic of the ether. Ethereal magic itself is not fully understood. It is but a group of theories of… truly fascinating nonsense. Alternate universes, a secret afterlife... but it’s all just theories in the end. Regardless, let us hop straight into the points and not dwell on how they all work.

The Pros:

The Cons:


>Skip a few pages to “Common Ethereal Spells”.
>Search the table of contents for something new.

Common Ethereal Spells

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Common Spells in the Ethereal School

The ethereal school has some of the most fascinating and unique spells available in all of magic, but don’t just take my word for it. See for yourself…

Conjure an alternate version of you from a different part of the multiverse (assuming that is in fact real) that is bound by your will and word--banished back to the world it came from upon death. This alternate you can serve as a decoy to your foes. Ask it questions to see what transpired in it’s alternate universe to better figure out what choices you should do in your own. The catch? They will try to deceive you, and if they do, they will do everything they can to take your place in this world. Never trust them, the slippery bastards.

As would be implied, this spell allows the user to skip forward a few seconds ahead of time to see what is about to transpire, but will then be reverted back in time and helpless to act on what it was they saw. A much less advanced version of the idyllic “time travel” spell.

Summon a shadowy mass from the inner depths of the void to do your every bidding. It cannot stay in our realm for long, and thus will fade after a few scant minutes.

Casted upon a single pony or a crowd, the effects make the recipient blind to their true reality, and thus they can only see the unspeakable horrors of the dark side of Etherium. A very inequine way to achieve whatever goal it was you had in mind as a mage, but a way to achieve that goal nonetheless.

Whenever placed in a shadow or the dark, the user will turn invisible. Exposure to too much light or the rays of Celestia’s wrathful Sun will dispel the effect. Made and named after yours truly--an homage to an oppressed art.


>Flip back a few pages to “The Strengths and Weaknesses of Ethereal Magic”.
>Search the table of contents for something new.

Something New

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Old information is nice. You need it to refresh the ole noggin every so often, no? But you hunger for something more--something new. You flip back to the table of contents and search for that something, finding it in one fateful heading: “The Blackheart Forest”. You flip through for the corresponding page number and read from the top.


The Blackheart Forest

And how could one ever hope to talk of ethereal magic and not mention this one? The Blackheart Forest, (also known as The Forest of the Black Heart) is the ironic heart of it all--the very center of everything ethereal.

Etherium is (theoretically) but an endless void and string of parallel universes, correct? It’s borders stretch on infinitely, but what lies at the center? A location. A physical one right here in the equine homeland.

The Blackheart Forest is a grove of dead trees veiled in pitch and looked down upon by a forever purple sky. In it’s center lies the beating Black Beart--a cross dimensional midpoint for all things in the multiverse. Existing in it’s own plane of reality, The Forest of the Black Heart is not only a gateway to other dimensions, but a focal point from which all ethereal energy is harvested. Without the Black Heart, ethereal magic would be no more.

The journey to The Blackheart Forest is a dangerous journey indeed. Down from the slopes of the mountain that Canterlot rests upon, the River Neighagra must be fjorded, the Foal Mountains must be hiked, and the forest of Hollow Shades must be reached. Hollow Shades is a village occupied by batponies and batponies alone, for their forest canopies shield out the Sun, allowing for eternal shade. Only a native from this village can lead one to The Forest of the Black Heart, which rests somewhere deeper within the dark woods. And only at the center of that smaller grove can a pony come face to face with the lifeblood of it all: the great Black Heart itself.

There was a time when ponies of all sorts would travel far and wide on a pilgrimage to see the Black Heart. To study it, to the pray… It was not a tourist attraction, but a holy relic worth seeing. In the times of now, the Black Heart is but a myth, and the only thing Equestria knows it will find in the Forest of Hollow Shades are rare fruits like mangoes and lychee. There were always those few who would try to harness the heart’s power--to cultivate it’s energy for their own. None so far have successfully done this, but if it ever were to be achieved, the boons it yields would be more than enormous. The pony who could do this would become The Lord of the Void.


>Read further about harvesting the power of the Black Heart

Read Further

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The pages simply don’t turn fast enough. But when they do, for the time in the many years that you’ve owned this book, you find useless information. History about the Black Heart. Rumors about it. The theories behind it’s existence. Useless! Absolutely useless nonsense!

You slam the book shut and drop it down on your desk, searching and searching and seeking and hunting--hoping that another tome from small library will suffice. That another book from your collection will tell you just how you can harvest the powers of the Black Heart.

To your great dismay, you do not find what you’re looking for.

You sit down, back leaning against the wall, rubbing your tired eyes and mad that they’re still whining for sleep. The thunder sounds its horn again, but your only instinct is to yell at it to just shut up already.

Horn once more aglow, you levitate “On Ethereal Magic” back into your hooves, flipping through the table of contents. Spells, incantations, theories… all of these things occupy the space at the beginning of the book. Just about all of it seems useless now. Useless where it was once the most useful thing in the world.

You see at the bottom of these topics a heading called “index”, and decide to give a chance on a whim.

More useless information. Page after page of it… until you find something different.

Near the center of that index, you feel gifted by fate itself. You see titles like “Myths of the Blackheart Grove”, “Origins of the Black Heart”, and most interestingly, “Harnessing the Heart of the Ether”. It is only a chance, but these tomes may be found in the Arcane Librarium here in Canterlot. A chance you’re more than willing to take.

If those tomes do indeed exist at the librarium, you shall be a hero. You will right all the wrongs in this world. You will be known as the greatest mage who ever lived--no report included. You set the black book on your desk so it won’t be forgotten and lay down in your bed so you can wake up and get to the librarium as soon as the Sun rises. You know in your heart that destiny’s calling you.

>Rest and wake up the next day.