Twilight worked late into the night. She didn’t want to believe that any harm had come to poor old Professor Martingale. She wanted to believe that the telegram had simply contained a transcription error. She didn’t really believe that.

She was working on a letter of her own, it was to Princess Celestia. She needed help desperately. She was in far over her head. First and foremost, it was a letter of apology. Princess Celestia had instructed her not to get involved in the situation, yet that’s exactly what Twilight had done. She had seen Princess Celestia angry before, and did not want to see it again. Yet dogs were being killed, maybe even other ponies. She had to help.

It was while working on that letter when Spike began choking. Spike had been curled up in his little basket at the foot of her bed. At first, Twilight thought he was having another one of his obnoxious sleeping fits, or coughing up another ball of whatever inedible junk he had been into this time. She had almost been paying no attention to him at all when she had come to the sudden conclusion that something was terribly wrong.

Spike was desperate. His eyes bulged red, tears streaming from them, and he flailed his arms. He was desperately trying to signal that he was choking, but Twilight didn’t know what to do. His scales began turning an unhealthy shade of black-blue. Something was caught in his throat. Twilight looked closer and whatever was caught was huge. It continued to grow as she looked in horror. It was almost as large as Spike himself; his throat was growing to almost cartoonish proportions. With a great gurgling, strangling cough, Spike vomited a large, bloodied rectangular object onto the floor.

It was a book. With another strangled cough, Spike heaved a bloodied scroll beside it. He was much weaker than before. The scroll was sealed with the royal insignia. Princess Celestia had sent her a book, and she had used her dragon to send it. Twilight’s fear of, and cautious hope towards, Princess Celestia was replaced with a sudden anger. This was no way to treat a baby dragon, even for a princess. She gave him a hug and tried to comfort him. She asked if he was OK, but his voice was broken.

Twilight tore open the scroll. Her anger turned to fear.

Dear Twilight,

I’m sorry for this. You should have received a book. Answer back immediately if you didn’t receive it. Teleport back if Spike can’t reply. If you did receive it, hide it away. Don’t read it, don’t even look at the title page.

I’m sorry, but things are much more dangerous than I had originally thought. I’ve been so stupid. I’m in danger. We’re all in danger. The book must be kept secret, that is why I have sent it to you. Canterlot is unsafe. Tell no one. Show no one. If they get a hold of it, all will be lost.

I have put you all in so much danger and I am so sorry. They are so much more powerful than I. Even now I can’t comprehend. Do not lose the book.

Love,

Celestia

P.S. If you have received the book, do not reply to me. They are watching. Tell Spike I am sorry.

Five minutes later, and Twilight had gotten Spike settled down. They were in the kitchen, sitting before the table. Spike was in his little robe, drinking a cup of herbal tea that Twilight had made him from some old book of remedies. Twilight herself was a nervous wreck.

Twilight looked at the book. She had already wiped it of the phlegm and blood, and it looked no worse for wear. It was a large, heavy book, but certainly not the largest or heaviest book in her collection. It was held together with a recent black or perhaps navy blue cover that could not have been more than thirty or forty years old. It looked like any other tome from the University library. It even had the University’s ink stamp on the fore-edge. The spine had the simple name “Wormius” in embossing.

She didn’t want to open it. She had been ordered not to open it by her sovereign. Yet Celestia just admitted she had been wrong before, “stupid” even. Twilight didn’t know her mentor was capable of mistakes, let alone feeling fear. The rug had been pulled out from beneath her. She felt as if her psyche were falling, plummeting into unsounded depths of terror. Her very being quailed.

She opened the book. The title page read “The Neckernomicon,” by the Arabian Aarif Aswad, an English translation. The title meant nothing to her, excepting Celestia having named it before. Twilight, being an able translator, thought the word itself was a bit of a joke. It was the sort of pseudo-neogrecolatinate popular among 7th century Celestian monks. It was a bit of pidgin doggerel. If translated literally, it meant “the book, or listing of the names of necks.” “Necker” being an old Equestria word for the length of a horse’s neck. This meant little. Of course, it could be a play on words. “Knackernomicon,” was much more sinister. “Knacker” being an even older word for those whose job was to collected the carcasses of dead horses. Thus making the title, “a book of names for those who collect the dead.” Worse still was the play on words “the Necronomicon.” Meaning, simply, the book of the names of the dead.

A shiver went up Twilight’s spine. She opened to the text, and simply skimmed at random. There were words here that were strange to her, proper names. She had seen them before. There were names like Tirek, and Hydia. Something horrible called the Sch’Ma’Utz, and Shub-Niggurath. The text spoke of the five Nightmares, such as Nightmare Moon and Nightmare Aurora. Of Abhoth, beneath the Mount Voormithadreth, and the deadlights.

Twilight closed the cover, feeling nauseous. She needed help, and she could not turn to the one pony she could rely on most, her princess. Nor did she want to turn to her friends. That could only put them in more danger they were already in, a danger she did not understand. Still, she needed help. Somebody older than her, and wiser than her. Somebody who might know more about magic than her, or at least the strange parts of the world. She looked up and saw “Super Naturals” still sitting on the shelf by the teapot. She had to see Zecora.

She hid the precious book behind a shelf of pots and sundries. She asked Spike if he would be okay on his own, and he nodded. She told him not to let anyone in, under any circumstances, even her friends. He nodded to this as well.

So she left him alone in the library with the book and set off in search of Zecora. Ponyville was silent at this time of night. No, there was a chattering of birds. Whippoorwills. They rarely were heard outside of the forest, let alone inside. As she approached the edge of town, the chattering only grew. It rose to a cacophony. She felt as if unseen eyes were watching her go. And then all at once, the chattering stopped. Silence followed, absolute dead silence.

Twilight ran. She galloped as hard as she could. Tears streamed from her eyes in the cold wind. She felt as if something was right behind her, and if she even thought of slowing it would get her. She ran and ran, and finally turned her head. There was nothing there. She stopped, skidding on her hooves. Then she looked before her. It was the Everfree Forest. Dark in the day, it was now a wall of black. This was the woods that had supposedly been safe, just a few months before. She had told all her friends, all the ponies in Ponyville, that there was nothing to be frightened of within. Now she knew that wasn’t true. Martingale had warned her. Even Princess Celestia was frightened of what laid waiting inside.

Twilight entered the woods

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