//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 - But You Can't Fight Forever 
// Story: The Moon Has Two Faces 
// by Ether Echoes 
//------------------------------//

Light Breeze’s eyes flew open, her heart thundering in her little chest as her hooves slammed into her desk. She’d been drifting, she knew it, felt the awful dip of herself tumbling into sleep. One look down at her soft, teal legs with the white "socks" above her hooves had been enough to reassure her that she hadn't lost her streak, but it would be a while yet before her breathing evened out.
The other students in the classroom all turned to stare as the sound of the clatter echoed through the room, and their teacher paused mid-breath. He’d frozen with a hoof against the blackboard where a poster—its housing carved from a single piece of wood and weighted at the end—had been unrolled with a diagram of the cell, and turned to glance back at her. “Sun and Moon, Light Breeze—you startled me.” He ran a hoof through his mane to the giggles of the other students as he turned towards her desk near the window. “Is something wrong? You don’t look… well. We can send you to the nurse if you’re not feeling all right.”
Taking in the dust stirred by the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the classroom, the birds chirping outside in the curving branches of the trees, Light Breeze carefully flexed her hooves and settled her wings against her back and sides. “No, sir. I’m exactly where I need to be. I’m very sorry. I think I’m just a little tired is all.”
That was putting it mildly.
Concern flickered across his face, a slight frown turning at the edges of his muzzle, and pulled the poster to let it zip back up into its housing with a clank. “Tell you what. If you can name, uh, six parts of the cell, I’ll know you were listening, and I won’t send you to—”
Light Breeze sat up, wings spreading faintly, so eager she cut him off. “Membrane, nucleus, cytoplasm, ribosomes, mitochondria, endoplasmic reticulum.”
“Very good!” His face lit up in delight. “Very good. I guess somepony was paying attention today. Light Breeze, you—” He stopped, frowning and pawing a hoof in confusion. “Sorry, what was that, uhm, fifth one? A mito-what?”
A blush crept up her ears as her wings snapped shut. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant the pneuma. The part where Harmony breathes magic into the cell.”
The laughter of the other students rang over her, but it wasn’t their little japes that made her droop like a wilting flower. Over and over again she kicked herself, wishing she’d never heard of anything called the powerhouse of a cell. Mostly, though, she concentrated on not drifting off again by chewing the inside of her cheek whenever she felt drowsy. Much as she thought her teacher was a nice stallion, she already knew this subject backwards and front, more or less, from the other world.
As the bell rang, she packed up her saddlebags and looked left to where Silver Dust was making a show putting her things away in her bag with her magic. Every chance she got, she moved something with her shimmering silver aura no matter how much quicker or more convenient it was, as though anyone could forget that she’d finally “mastered” how. Never mind that the wobbly, shaky motion of her textbook betrayed her inexperience, Light Breeze loved her for it. “Hey, Dust. Do you wanna head out to the arcade?”
“Sure!” Answering made her lose her concentration, and she yelped as her biology textbook lost its aura and plummeted.
Light Breeze tried to catch it in a hoof, but couldn’t make it grip, and the book clattered off to the floor and creased a few pages. She stared down at the treacherous limb and shuddered. “I’m sorry.”
“You tried, Light.” She slid out from the desk and picked it up with her mouth rather than risk her magic again. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” She made a futile attempt to smooth the pages with her silver-blue hooves before shoving it in her back, sucking in a breath, and trotting off. “It’s fi-i-ine. Just a textbook. Let’s go! I wanna get there before the lines form.”
As Light Breeze made to follow, though, the teacher cleared his throat, and she froze mid-step as he called her name. “Y-yes, Mr. Pitcher?” she asked as she slunk up to his desk.
Closer up, he could probably see what a state she was in. Dark circles ringed red, bloodshot eyes. Her attention drifted, her feet wobbled with every hoofstep, and her heart was still pounding quietly in her barrel.
“Light Breeze, is there something you want to tell me?” He came around the desk and slid a hoof onto her withers. Only her wings were immaculate, every feather in place barring the wear and tear of a normal day. In another context, a grown male putting a hoof around her would have alarmed her, but she knew nothing she feared would happen here. “You look like, well, like you just crawled out of Tartarus. Is there trouble at home?”
“No, sir. Not with my folks. I’ve just…” She scuffed her hoof, refusing to look him in the eyes. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping.”
“What’s wrong?”
Sucking in a breath, she looked up to him, hoping he couldn’t see the horror she felt deep inside through her exhausted eyes. “Bad dreams.”





Light Breeze knew it was only a matter of time. Silver Dust gamely tried her best to keep her awake as they spent a couple hours and a small pile of bits at the arcade with its flashing lights and sounds, but she kept nodding off, dropping combos left and right on Hooves of Fury, a fighting game she normally creamed her in. After the third barely contested victory in a row, she turned and nudged her with her shoulder. “Maybe you should just go to sleep, Light? I know your dreams are pretty bad, but I think you’re gonna pass out in the middle of traffic or something. Three days have gotta be enough, right?”
“Uh, well.” Light Breeze yawned, but it only lit more desperation under her. “It’s been a little more than, uh, three days this time.” She turned to her bag and pulled a thermos out of it, unscrewing the cap and guzzling disgusting, black coffee. “See?” She coughed pitifully. “I’m fine.”
Dust’s ears lay flat. “Light, you’re scaring me. This has gotta stop sometime. How… how long has it been?”
Light Breeze didn’t answer her, staring at the screen.
“How long?”
She tried not to meet Silver Dust’s eyes, but a haze of magic jerked her chin over, and she quaked. She would sooner die than lie to her. “Almost… almost six days.”
“What?” Her eyes opened wide in abject horror. “Light Breeze, that’s… that’s… you can’t use the potion that long! I thought you were just using it now and again!” She puffed out her cheeks. “You abused my trust, and I’m not going to put up with it any longer! Do you have any idea how bad the side effects can get? You’re not getting another drop from me, even if you pay!”
“You don’t tell me that!” Light Breeze snapped without warning, wings flaring and puffing up as her manner changed in an instant. “I can’t sleep! I won’t! I won’t have to if you give me my fucking potion, Silver!”
Backing up with a hoof raised defensively, Dust stared at her with wide eyes. Tears gathered at the corners.
At the sight of her distress, Light Breeze’s guts turned to ice. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she lowered her eyes and head to stare at the ground. “Du-Dust, I’m… I’m so sorry, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I would never want to yell at you, Silver Dust. You’re my best friend forever, and I’d never, ever leave if I could. I’m so sorry…”
Her heart thundered in her chest, even without the caffeine pumping its way through her veins.
“You need to sleep, Light!” Silver Dust demanded, her loud sniffling fading. “You’re having mood swings, and you look like you’re going to keel over and die. I don’t think anyone can help you with that. You can’t fight sleep forever.” Dust stomped a hoof, her face lowered, and tossed her sapphire mane. “You’re going home, right now!”
Light Breeze peeped up at her with wide, watering eyes. “Please, Dust–”
“Nuh uh! Don’t you ‘Please, Dust’ me! I’ve been letting you use those big puppy dog eyes to trick me into trying to help keep you up for way too long! Either you go home and sleep, or I’m going to your house and telling your parents just how long you’ve been awake.” Her voice fell to a warble, the lights of the arcade cabinet casting her distressed features into shadow as she turned her head. “I’m so worried about you. You won’t even tell me what you’re so afraid of. Would it kill you if somepony knew?”
Light Breeze couldn’t answer that, not honestly, but she could see she was defeated. Her entire body felt like lead. At that point, Dust could have dragged her back herself, tiny unicorn frame or no, and she’d have been hard pressed to fight back. “I’m sorry. You win, Dust. Please, just… let’s go home. If I’m going to have to sleep, I don’t want it to be here.”
Nuzzling at her neck, Dust pressed at her shoulder. “Just lean a wing on me, okay? It’s just one dream, and, besides, don’t you want to be rested up for flying practice? You’ve been looking forward to it your entire life.”
“Yeah.” Light Breeze sighed, draping a wing across her and leaning in. “I guess I can look forward to that while I’m dreaming, at least.”
“One day, you really need to explain what that’s all about. I mean, really explain it, not just vaguely hint about it while being all cryptic and mournful.” Despite being much lighter than her friend and having Light Breeze’s books and the buckle of her saddlebags dig into her side, she never complained once as they stepped out onto the sidewalk and made their way through the snow-covered streets of Fillydelphia. “I’m worried about you, and you’re my bestie, so you gotta be able to tell me everything, right?”
Light Breeze didn’t answer aloud, but deep down she reiterated the old promise that she never, ever would, for that very same reason.





Never, in a million, billion years would Light Breeze ever blame her parents for having missed her state up until Silver Dust all but dragged her up the steps of their narrow row house and through the door. Indeed, when she heard her mother gasp from the second story and leap down with spreading wings to land lightly beside her and scoop her up, she could only whimper “I’m sorry” before burying her face in her coat. She drank in her scent, her mother still a little damp from a long day’s work in the water, and felt a peace she knew wouldn’t last long.
A few minutes later, after promising Silver Dust that she’d be okay, she found herself with a bowl of soup at the table and some crackers, sipping from it quietly while her mother and father stared at her from across the varnished table reflecting the glow of the hanging lamp. Arc Light, had been sent to bed, but she knew he’d be lurking in the shadows of the bannister near the second story to listen.
Her father was the one to start, after making sure she had enough to eat. He pulled off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his horn casting a shadow across his face. “Honey, what’s going on?” His slight frame seemed somehow leaner, as though worry had drawn out what little meat he had on his bones. “Why did Silver Dust have to practically drag you home?”
Light Breeze shook her head faintly, mumbling. Her mane hung lank about her face and neck.
“Didn’t catch that; didn’t need to.” Her mother pressed her hooves and wingtips against the table as she half-rose in her seat. “Light Breeze, you’re doing the ‘I’m not going to sleep’ thing again, aren’t you?”
Her guilty mumble was all the answer they needed, sharing a look. “All right. You’re going to bed right now.”
Desperate to prolong her sentence, Light Breeze looked down at the soup she had been nursing without much progress. “But—”
Her father shook his head, a pale blue light surrounding her “No ifs, ands, or buts young lady. We’re going right now.” He courted her into the air in front of him. She couldn’t hear his hooves over the hum of her father’s magic, but her brother wasn’t in sight on the second floor as they trotted down the hall.
Desperately, she beat her wings, managing to push herself in the air over towards the shared bathroom. “I should shower! I’m kind of gross.” Her hooves slipped and slid across the door frame as her mother gave her a little push with her nose, sending her tumbling to the end of the hall. Her mother opened the door so she could be floated right inside, and pulled back the sheets on her cloud bed. The soft, shifting mists contained within the pale wood frame might as well have been a slab at the morgue as far as she was concerned.
The aura cut out as she floated over it, and she bounced a couple times before settling in place. She could already feel its siren call, gravity sucking her down into its gentle embrace, and helpless tears stained her cheeks. The moon’s light fell in beneath her blinds, cutting a warped rectangle on her carpet.
Hearing her whimpers, her mother frowned and set her hooves on the mattress. Her father could only sit on the frame without putting his body entirely through the cloud. “Honey… please, talk to us. Why don’t you want to sleep so bad? We’ve never heard you have night terrors, not even a peep. Whenever we come in here, you’re sleeping soundly. We’ve tried doctors, and all they say is that it’s a phase you’re going to pass through. Can it really be that bad?”
Her father reached out, scooping her closer with her hoof. “I just wish we understood. It’s not like this all the time. I mean, yes, you’ve fought us on a lot of nights—”
“A lot of nights,” her mother reiterated, sounding near as exhausted as Light Breeze felt.
“—but you’ve never been like this before. Was the last bad dream particularly bad?”
Light Breeze ducked her head. Maybe it was the fact that she was utterly destroyed with how exhausted she was, but where she normally wouldn’t have bothered, she whispered, “It’s not the last dream. That one was bad, but it wasn’t that one. It’s the next one. That’s the one I don’t want to have.”
She knew they wouldn’t really understand. Even the little bits and fragments of the truth she had shared only made them more upset, more worried that something might be wrong with her that couldn’t be helped.
They were right, if not in the way they feared, but telling them would break their hearts, and she couldn’t bear that.
“I’m not sure I understand.” Her father nosed at her mane as she trembled. “You know what you’re going to dream next?”
“I… I don’t know what it’s going to be like,” she whispered, dodging into a half truth. “Exactly.”
“Well, maybe it won’t be as bad as you think?” Her mother’s wing was so soft against her back she wanted to cry again. “That’s happened before, right? You’ve been anxious about bedtimes before, like a few years ago before Silver Dust’s birthday sleepover, but you woke up feeling right as summer rain, didn’t you?”
Light Breeze sniffled, smiling a little. “Was that a pun, Mom? Summer Rain was there, too.”
“It got the sun peeking from behind your cloud, didn’t it?”
“I love you both, so, so much.” Light Breeze wrapped her wings around both of them, or as much of them as she could with her filly’s wingspan. The muscles of her second shoulders were strong for her age, and when flight school came she knew she’d be ready for it. “I think… I think you’re the best parents ever, and I’m so sorry that I’m scaring you. I’ll be good, I promise, if it’ll make you both happy.”
“We want you to be happy for you, hon,” her father said, ears pinning back, but he couldn’t help but be warmed as he hugged her.
As the two of them rose, she grabbed her mother’s tail in her teeth. “Mom? Could you… could you stay with me, just this once?”
Her parents exchanged another glance, and her mother looked back at her. “I thought you felt you were a little too old for that, honey. You made a big stink about it, remember?”
“I do, but… I was wrong. Please?” She sniffled. “I… I just want to know that you’re going to be the first thing I see when I wake up. It’ll help me through the dream if… if it’s bad. I want to know that I have this waiting for me in the morning.”
The look on her mother’s face suggested her heart might shatter into a thousand pieces if it were tugged any harder. Brushing back her crimson mane, she nodded and slid onto the cloud beside her. Her father pulled up the sheets with his magic, kissing her and her mother on the cheeks before slipping out.
Her mother tucked her against her belly and enfolded her in a wing, enshrouding her in all the love and affection she could muster. “Better, Light Breeze? Not so afraid?”
With complete honesty, she nodded vigorously and wormed deeper. “I think… I think I can be brave and bear it, for you and Dad and Arc Light and Silver Dust.”
“Even your brother? Wow.” Her mother giggled, nuzzling her and closing her eyes. “Now I know you must be scared.”
“He’s not so bad.” Light Breeze yawned pitifully, the world pulling hard on her now. “I could think of worse siblings.”
As the last shreds of her fortnight-long battle with slumber faltered beneath her own overwhelming fatigue, she peeked through her mother’s primaries to the moon still rising silver and lovely in the velvet sky. Her father said that, ever since she’d returned, Princess Luna would guard the dreams of all who lay beneath her former prison’s gaze, but Light Breeze had never seen any evidence of it, had no conception of how it could even be possible in her case. It felt like a myth, one that her mother and father had given up telling her. Even so, as her eyelids slowly crept closed, she whispered a prayer, begging Luna to come spare her sleep, for her family’s sake if not hers.
All that effort, and she hadn't even lasted a week. She felt pathetic, but above all she felt ashamed for scaring her family and friends, and the deception burned in her throat.
Turning her head to bury her face against her mother, she continued to fight sleep for as long as she could. She hoped that, maybe, if she could delay the next dream long enough, she might bypass it entirely. No matter how hard she struggled, though, it stole over her so fast and so suddenly that she had no chance to resist, and dragged her down into its murky depths.





Owen’s eyes flew open at a crash, his breath catching in his throat. With a pounding heart, he jolted upright on the bed, gathering the sheets in his grip. For a while, he stared around at his surroundings as if he couldn’t comprehend where he’d woken up. A siren blared in the distance over Philadelphia, its wail ghosting through the old apartment, but it was the banging of a pot in the kitchen that had woken him up, not some distant emergency.
It was a dusty little room with dirty, bare walls and windows that hadn't been changed properly in a while, and for a moment he hoped that, maybe, he really had just jumped forward in time, but it was really just as disgusting as it always had been. His hands didn't want to work right, but he managed to fish out his phone and see that, for all that he'd spent two weeks as Light Breeze, it was only Saturday morning.
Saturday morning in his personal hell. Even the sight of his face in the black of the phone's off screen made him sick to his stomach.
With mounting desperation, he pulled the quilt back over his eyes and tried to get back to sleep, to call upon his waking drowsiness and return. He tried to count, picturing winged horses flying through the sky, picturing their feathers and coats in as much detail as he could as he imagined them soaring by.
He got to thirteen before the cover was yanked back down, a scowling, stubbled man looking down at him. “Christ on a stick. You’d spend your whole life sleeping if you could.” He slapped his cheek—lightly, but it stung all the same. “Get up, boy.”
The man was a stranger for several moments, the reason why he was waking him lost in memory, but it came crashing back. Frank, Owen's sire. Monster.
Owen did his best not to cry from his despair or flinch at the scent of his breath. It would only provoke him further. The nightmare had come all the same, and no amount of procrastination on his part had kept it from coming. “Dad, if it’s about yesterday, I’m sorry.” He tried not to sound like his voice was breaking, too, but he didn’t quite succeed as it warbled in fear. “It was just a stupid thing. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t!” Frank barked. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Owen.”
Owen froze up, eyes wide. His breath came fast, and his heart dropped. It wasn’t so much being yelled at, seeing that face. It was what he imagined he’d looked like when he’d yelled at Silver Dust.
“You think it’s easy to raise kids? That my putting a roof over your head is a joke? All you do is sleep around the house, creeping around like a little mouse, nibbling at our food while your brothers are working, and you have the gall, after all that, to tell me to my face that I’m not your father?”
Not daring to make another word, to move a muscle, Owen stared up at him and tried to think of flying lessons, of his mother making him hover for hours, and of the warm presence he so desperately wanted to wake back up to; anything to try and distract him from this awful moment.
Just like his attempts to stave off sleep, though, Owen could not prolong his fate.
“I said get up.” Frank threw the quilt into the easy chair. “You’re not sorry right now, but, once I’m done with you? You will be.”