Good Intentionsby Chaotic Dreams
Chapters
Chapter 1 (Slightly Revised)
Prologue:
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like had I never gone back to Hollow Shades. Sure, it was probably inevitable that I end up there somehow, a fly caught in the web of fate, but who knows for sure? There are Things out there far more powerful than fate, so just about anything is conceivable.
I know I never would have been able to live with myself if I just left the only real family I’d ever known to their fate, nevermind that they were an adopted family. Thus, perhaps a better question would be: ‘What would my life have been like if I had never had a reason to go back to Hollow Shades?’ My family was more precious to me than life itself, but I had every reason to insist on them coming to visit me in Canterlot rather me going to visit them back in that forsaken town. They would have understood and readily agreed to such an arrangement as well, knowing full well what pain and suffering I had endured in that sleepy little burg, back before they adopted me.
In fact, I didn’t go back to Hollow Shades until a few years after the town was initially sealed off. It wasn’t like the government would have readily let me back in, and the force field they set up around the town would have zapped me into ash had I tried to push through it. Besides, I had every reason, back then at least, to believe the government when they told me that everything was under control. There was no cause for alarm. Everypony in Hollow Shades was safe, and even if they weren’t, military relief was sent in regularly.
Of course it worried me that I received no news from the family who had adopted me, and who I had adopted in turn. The government claimed that the force field cancelled out any civilian messaging systems, even spell phones. Only the military instruments would work around the site, and they had to be reserved for the military itself.
But by and large, there was no reason for me not to trust that my family, despite being at the site of the largest disaster in Equestrian history, was completely safe. This knowledge comforted me enough to keep the worries I had from completely ruining my new and optimistic life in Canterlot.
From the moment I first stepped off the skywagon, the capital city of Equestria had turned out to be more than I had ever hoped it would be. I loved every minute of it—the rush, the excitement, the grand scheme of it all that was so far removed from the sleepy, quiet, small town life of Hollow Shades.
Skyscrapers rose alongside the classical, palatial towers of The Canterlot Castle where the princesses lived. I even got to see them in person at a public function once. They were so much more magnificent in real life than anything I had seen of them through the telecrystals back home.
Back ‘home’... No, that term doesn’t even apply to Hollow Shades anymore, not after I moved into Canterlot University. The only reason I had been able to get out of that town hidden in the dark woods of northeastern Equestria in the first place was because of The University. It was home now, and had been ever since I first realized that Canterlot wasn’t going to be just a repeat of Hollow Shades. Nopony was going to hurt me here. There would be no new scars, no more fitful nights of crying into my pillow and nursing my wounds. That bastard drunkard who had once called himself my father, before my adopted family rescued me, was miles away in a prison in a town I planned never to revisit. Meanwhile, I was here, and safe.
I even made friends. Well, one, anyway—but Lucius Umbra Chiaroscuro, or just ‘Lucius,’ was enough.
Ironically enough, Lucius even hailed from Hollow Shades as well, though I had never met him back when I was forced to live there. He had revealed to me that this was because he was, as he called it, ‘home schooled,’ though he didn’t like to talk about Hollow Shades anymore than I did. Thus, I didn’t press the matter, and he didn’t press mine. I could see no scars on him, but there was something dark lingering just behind his eyes, something that promised that his past wasn’t all that jolly an experience either.
Lucius was even a batpony like I was, though he was lanky and tall where I was short and petite. His light gray, almost silvery coat contrasted quite heavily with my pale blue, but his midnight-black mane and tail were closer in coloration to my dark-blue hair.
He always teased me by saying I looked like a tiny Princess Luna, and I would always blush and protest that nothing could be further from the truth. She was so tall and stunning, as if all the wonder of the world by the light of The Moon had been molded into pony form. She was beautiful, and I, well... I wasn’t. On top of being naturally small, years of more or less fending for myself... among other things... hadn't exactly done wonders for my appearance, my self-esteem, or how I carried myself. Sure, I could put on a brave face and laugh in public, but, well... Time may heal all wounds, but that doesn’t mean you forget who caused them, or how bad it felt when they were fresh.
But I’ve gotten so far off topic my train of thought has derailed. I was going to explain what life would be like for me if I never needed to go back to Hollow Shades, wasn’t I? I think that was it... Well, if it was, what I would have most liked to have done is finished my senior year at Canterlot University. I would want to have (and probably would have, by the way—‘smarts’ was one of the few areas I shone in) graduated with full honors and be awarded top-of-the-class merits for my work earning my Historical Studies major. Then, I would have wanted to settle down somewhere in a nice apartment at Canterlot, maybe working for The Museum of Equine History. I could have travelled across Equestria, never once going near Hollow Shades. Instead I would have visited places of actual historical significance, like Dream Valley, or even the now-famous Ponyville where The Bearers of The Elements of Harmony had once lived.
That would have been nice.
But, as I’m sure you’ve guessed from the get-go, none of that happened.
Instead, everything went wrong, and all Hell broke loose—literally.
It all started with the nightmares. And then came the therapy visits. And then there was The Arcane Almanac...
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Now, before I go any further with the story of how I eventually ended up back in Hollow Shades, and what happened there... I feel that I should warn you. Much of my life hasn’t been the most pleasant series of experiences, and the majority of my return to the town that had scarred me so was just a new chapter in that struggle. Sure, I went back to put an end to all that darkness, and when the end comes I hope I’ll have done just that—not just for me, but for everypony—it’s just that, well...
I don’t want to scare you, but there’s some pretty bad stuff coming up. I wouldn’t blame you if you set my tale aside and read something cheerier instead.
But if you do feel so inclined to read on, I thank you for taking the time to read the story of my life, and what I did when everything went wrong.
And oh, I’ve forgotten to actually introduce myself, haven’t I? My name is Neverwas. Pleased to meet you.
. . .
Prologue
Chapter 1:
There is no beginning,
There is no end.
There is only now,
and the truth to bend.
—Creed of Liars,
So You Want to Start the Apocalypse?
A Guide for Beginners and Experts Alike
The first time I set eyes on The Arcane Almanac I had been looking for a new book to distract me from another episode of worrying about my family back in Hollow Shades. The worrying came and went in little spasms every now and again, especially when some other stressful event reared its ugly head. Finals were just a few weeks away, and thus my night terrors—mostly involving my family’s gruesome suffocation from poison gas—had been more frequent and horrible than usual.
I was in the small second-hoof bookstore on West Canterbury Street. You know, the one next to Pony Joe’s? The place was practically a historical landmark and even had its own plaque to declare it as such. The place was said to have been one of the favorite haunts of Twilight Sparkle, back before she moved to Ponyville.
That being said, I don’t understand why she of all ponies wouldn’t have found the book before I did. Any number of countless other customers could have easily stumbled across the tome, including the owners of the shop itself. In fact, they claimed they had never seen the book when I brought it to the checkout counter. They even gave it to me for free because of that.
All of this has led me to come to the decision that I didn’t choose the book. I think... I think the book chose me. Perhaps it was just waiting for that day when I trotted into the old bookstore to make itself known, praying to its abominable gods that I would be the one who picked it up rather than the half-dozen or so other ponies quietly milling about the store.
I mean, I definitely did make the choice of ‘buying’ it. I could have just trotted away the moment I first heard its beckoning whispers. Or... Could I? If I could do it all again, would I be able to ignore its subtle threats or perilous promises?
I still remember it perfectly, no matter how hard I try to forget. I don’t think that even a memory spell could remove it, or any of the things I learned while reading it... Or when it read itself to me.
...Looking for a good book...?
Those were the first utterances The Arcane Almanac ever communicated to me in its voice of countless whispers to the backdrop of rustling pages.
My ears perked up at this, my eyes darting around for the source of the ‘noise.’ There was an elderly earth pony at the end of the shelf I was currently facing, his nose deep inside an old encylopedia of a bygone decade. He hardly looked like he was the one to have spoken; he had that glazed look in his eye that Lucius claims I get whenever I’m reading something about classical Equestria. Besides, the whispers sounded like they had entered both of my ears at the same time. Even as a batpony with abnormally heightened hearing I doubt I could have heard him from this distance, especially with the soft jazz music streaming over the bookstore’s sound system.
There was nopony else near.
I was feeling slightly unnerved and beginning to fear I might be hearing voices when the book spoke to me again.
...Come closer, my little pony...
I jumped back. I had definitely heard something that time.
“Who said that?” I asked aloud. The elderly earth pony lifted his head from his book, giving me a disapproving look and a “Shush!” I rebutted by sticking my tongue out at him. Clearly appalled and making me feel slightly better despite fearing I was losing my sanity, the old stallion hobbled out of sight behind another bookshelf.
...My, my, you have a sense of humor, don’t you...? ... We like that... Laughter is a good deterrent against The Darkness... It always helps to giggle at the ghostie...
“Who is saying that?!” I hissed, in a lowered whisper this time.
...Here on the shelf. Between H. P. Lovecolt and E. A. Poeny...
Still understandably startled, I looked directly in front of me and saw it. A haggard old paperback copy of something called So You Want to Start the Apocalypse? A Guide for Beginners and Experts Alike. My curiosity piqued by the rather odd title despite my continuing state of unease, I unfolded my bat wings and stretched them out to pick up the book on either side with my thumb-like claws. Trotting over to one of the reading desks, I set the book down and took my first look at its cover.
Like I said, the tome was in pretty poor condition. Much of the main title was faded and a piece of the lower cover had even been ripped entirely away, leaving a tiny bite mark-shaped hole. There were crinkles all across the cover as well, as if it had been hoofed through numerous times.
Damage to a book was usually disheartening to a connoisseur of literature such as myself, but like most avid readers I would also quickly forget all about the damage if the words the book held were compelling enough.
However, the damaged cover irked me a little more than one might expect due to its faded and torn cover image. I could hardly make out what it was supposed to be, but it looked something like a vaguely equine shape facing... What? That’s where the bite mark-shaped hole appeared. Whatever it was, wavy lines that might have been tendrils of fire or even tentacles snaked away from the rip.
“No author,” I remarked, seeing nothing below the image. “Who wrote you, little book? Whoever your parent was, I feel sorry that their child was so roughly handled by your former caretakers.”
... We were written by the nameless things that shuffle in the dark, bound in the warped mirror of reality, and passed through the ages since time immemorial by the hands and hooves of races long since extinct...
My eyes lit up.
“Is that... You?” I whispered after shifting my eyes around nervously, hoping nopony would spy me talking to a tome. “Are you the book?”
...Astute observation...
My eyes widened in shock.
“How are you talking?” I wondered quietly. “You’re a book!”
... And you are a pony... A simple conglomeration of flesh and bone, blood and nerves... We too were a pony once... Several, in fact...
“You mean somepony cast a spell on you and turned you into a book?!” I gasped. “But transmogrification spells are only for the most advanced unicorns!”
... You misunderstand us... We were not transformed into the form of a book from our previous states as ponies... We were made from ponies... Their skin is our parchment, their blood our ink, their tanned hides our leather covers, their hair our binding... Our voice is but the whispered cries of the countless souls whose bodies we now wear, trapped forever between our pages...
Despite the revolting image such a description created in my mind, I wasn’t quite buying the spiel. I know now that I should have turned tail and ran then and there, or better yet, attempted to burn the book (even though I doubt it would have burned even if I were to have tried).
But I didn’t.
The book just looked so... Ordinary. Bar its odd title and the fact that it was talking to me (which I was beginning to think was some unicorn’s idea of a telepathic prank, a notion that greatly calmed my frayed nerves), the book looked like it could have been any old worn paperback.
“You certainly don’t look like you’re made of ponies,” I whispered to it.
Darkness.
Suddenly there was nothing but darkness around me. I gasped, hastily backing up into something hard and cold. I jerked around in fright, only to scream when I beheld the most monstrous entity I had ever seen snarling down at me from its many mouths, hatred pure and clear in its countless eyes. Waving tentacles sprang down to rip my flesh from my bones.
I closed my eyes and curled up into a ball, waiting for the gruesome end.
It never came.
After a few moments of heart-pounding terror, I hazarded a peak at the abomination. It was still there, yet it hadn’t moved an inch. In fact, it seemed to be only one color... Gray. It was stone; a statue. Immobile and harmless.
I let out a sigh of relief, but instantly afterwards my mind overflowed with questions. What was that supposed to be a statue of? Who would craft such a terrifying thing? And most importantly of all, where the buck was I and how did I get here?!
... You are here with us, my little pony... We are the ones who brought you here...
A feeling of dread overtook my heart as I realized that the voice, more like voices now, were amplified here. Something whispered through the chilled blood in my veins that what I was about to see when I turned around was going to be far different than the harmless-looking paperback from the bookstore.
I slowly turned to see a raised dais surrounded by more of the monstrous statues. Beyond them was only blackness, and a single light shone down from some unknown source in the darkness above. But the stone creatures of nightmare paled in comparison with what was on the dais.
It was a large, thick, leather-bound book crafted from the patchwork hides of countless ponies’ cutie marks. Each was sewn together with hair that was every shade of the rainbow, and I just knew exactly where those hairs had come from. After all, the book itself had told me exactly what it was made of. Now it was simply showing me.
But that was far from the worst part.
The cover of the tome was moving—writhing and shifting as if countless ponies were pressing their faces against the other side of the leather before being pushed aside by those of other ponies. The indentations where their mouths should be were opened impossibly wide as if screaming in utter revulsion, fear, and hatred.
And, every time a mouth opened, I could hear it add its own scream to the choir of disgust.
I recoiled back in utter horror, bumping into the statue again but no longer caring so long as the monstrosity in front of me continued to darken reality with its existence. Who would do such a thing?! Who would make a book out of ponies?!
Slowly I realized that the screams weren’t just random cries of primeval emotion. They were all calling out for something.
“N...”
“...Never...”
“...Neverwas...!”
No. Not something. Somepony.
Me.
“WHAT ARE YOU?!” I demanded. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”
But the book didn’t respond, simply allowing the lost souls trapped within it to mindlessly wail my name over and over. I plugged my ears with my hooves, but that didn’t help in the slightest. It seemed as if the words were driving themselves directly into my brain, straight through my skull, completely circumventing my ears.
But the worst part of it all... was that it felt... familiar.
“Are you okay, miss?”
“Gah!” I gasped, jolting up and nearly knocking back the salesclerk who had spoken as I did so.
Wait, salesclerk? I looked around me in a cold sweat. I was back in the little bookstore, some frightened customers looking at me with apprehension.
“Didn’t you see it?!” I demanded of her at last, whirling on the unsettled salespony. “There was darkness everywhere, and those monster-statues, and that—that book!”
“That book?” the salespony inquired, taking a step backwards and pointing her horn at what was once again the worn paperback. “Miss, did the book frighten you? Do you need us to call somepony?”
They hadn’t seen it. Nopony but me had seen that place, or what that accursed book really looked like.
“No, no...” I replied, suddenly eager to prove I wasn’t completely insane before the impression of being such solidified. “... I just... I just had a bit of a nerve attack, that’s all. Nothing serious. My... My therapist has me on some medication.”
I actually did see a therapist and I was on medication, but that was for something else entirely.
“As long as you’re sure, miss,” the salespony responded nervously. “We can call the emergency services at the front desk if you need us to in the future.”
“Thank you,” I told her. “I’ll call for you if I need anything. Sorry to have caused a disturbance. These attacks are always so embarrassing, but I don’t want to let them keep me from going out and living my life, you know?”
“Yes, of course, miss,” the salespony nodded, a hint of pity creeping into her expression. Good, if I could sell the sympathy hook, then hopefully they wouldn’t throw me out of the store, believing I was a danger to their customers due to my apparent insanity.
I turned back to the book as she trotted away, staring at it intently. Was I really going crazy? Had that book actually been talking to me, or was I having a mental breakdown?
... We assure you that you are quite sane... But that may not be a permanent feature should you continue to linger in our presence, much less read us...
“Yup, I’m insane,” I stated bluntly. About-facing, I fully planned to trot right out of that bookstore and never set hoof in it ever again. Instead I planned to take up asking my therapist about what hearing voices and seeing visions of books made out of ponies signified. This was the first time I’d ever had a night terror during the day, and it was certainly the first time I’d had one of something that wasn’t a warped flashback.
... Are you sure you want to leave us behind...?
“I’m pretty sure I’ve never been more sure,” I mumbled as I trotted towards the door.
... Even if we could tell you the dark secrets of the universe...? Allow you to bend space and time to your will...? Make you a god...?
“I’ll pass,” I noted, reaching a wing towards the door.
... Good... You’ve passed the first test... We do not share our secrets with ponies who would indulge in such base goals... No, we seek a larger prize...
“And what would that be?” I wondered sarcastically, opening the door to the tinkling chime of the bell above the entryway and strolling out.
... We wish you to destroy us... We wish for death, Mistress Neverwas, and we believe that you are the only pony able to give this to us... For millennia our souls have been trapped here in the form of a blasted book... But with your help, we can be free to ascend to the aetheric plane... And in the process of bringing death to us...
... You will bring life to Hollow Shades...
“What?” I stated bluntly, turning back to look into the shop and narrowing my eyes. “What does Hollow Shades have to do with this?”
Was this book of horrors threatening my hometown? I wouldn’t actually mind that so much if my family didn’t still make their home there. Besides, I wasn’t so sure a book could carry much weight with a threat, but then again, with what I’d seen of its power already I didn’t really want to test that. And wait... what could the book do that would be any worse than what had already happened to Hollow Shades a few years ago?
The Equestrian military still regularly sent in relief to The Quarantine Zone, but the force field stayed up and nopony came back out. They claimed that the shield was the only thing keeping the poison gas from spreading out over the entire nation, and had been ever since it was set up after the initial incident. The gas leak had reportedly been plugged, but detoxifying the gas was apparently proving to be most difficult. The gas was said to be resistant to magic, and though the force field could keep it in one place, it had so far been immune to any spells designed to eradicate it completely.
Hard to imagine that the whole thing started after one of the Hollow Shades Mining Company’s new megadrills dug a little too deep and hit an untapped chamber filled with the stuff. Due to the gas’s peculiar nature, the safety spells had failed to detect it.
But what if... What if this book was somehow the cause of what had happened?! Maybe the reason I’d been worried sick and watching my family choke on green vapors night after night was all this book’s fault!
... We are blameless in the attack on Hollow Shades... But there are those who are not, and if you and we do not act quickly, they will end Hollow Shades—nay, perhaps even the world—all too soon...
I began to quiver. Not with fear this time, but rage. Due to this, it didn’t register with me that the book had said ‘attack’ rather than ‘accident.’
Throwing open the door and forcing my way past the small herd of customers, I galloped right up to the book, which was right where I had left it.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” I demanded furiously. “TELL ME, OR I’LL REDUCE YOU TO PAPERY PULP!!”
The salespony, who had been shelving some new tomes nearby, whirled around to look at me like a mouse looks at a starving cat.
“Do you want that book?” she inquired hesitantly. “You can have it, but please, miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave... You’re upsetting the other customers...”
She was right. I had to get to the bottom of this, but this little bookstore was not the place to do so. I grabbed the book with my wing-claws and took it to the front desk.
“How much?” I inquired hurriedly.
That crazed look must have still been in my eye, because the middle-aged stallion at the counter backed up a bit at my arrival. I ignored his behavior, slamming the book on the counter.
Despite his fear, a strange look of curiosity appeared on his face when he glanced down at the book.
“Odd,” he remarked. “I’ve never seen this book. Are you certain it came from our store?”
“It was between H. P. Lovecolt and E. A. Poeny,” I replied. “How much?”
“Dad,” the salespony from earlier spoke, having just arrived after hurrying after me. “Just give it to her! I’ve already asked her to vacate the premises.”
“Ah, yes,” the store’s owner realized, shaking his head as he came out of the haze being a lifelong literary enthusiast must have put him in when he saw a tome he’d never laid eyes on. “As I’m not sure that this book even belongs to this shop, you may keep it, free of charge. Consider it a gift. But really, ma’am, I must ask you to do as my daughter requests. I overheard your outburst from over here, and I can’t have that kind of behavior in my store.”
“Understood,” I acknowledged. Under normal circumstances, I would have been devastated that my favorite bookstore was kicking me out, but of course these circumstance couldn’t spot ‘normal’ through a telescope on a clear night.
Taking the book back up with my wing-claws, I marched out of the store. Shifting the book to my hooves, I launched myself into the air, heading straight for my dorm room.
I had a tome to interrogate.
. . .