//------------------------------//
// The Final Detention 
// Story: Lunatic Fringe 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

Luna, the Princess of Detention, looked down at young Overcast beside her and thought to herself, You and me and the darkness makes three. It was the sort of statement that one said aloud within their head and heard quite distinctly within the confines of their own ears. A lifetime of detention awaited the young colt, and he would deserve every second of it. Because Luna loved him, she would ensure he would get every second of correction required—but to do that it would mean getting herself sorted out. 

And maybe getting a lot of advice from Twilight Sparkle. 

"Almanac told me something and I don't… I don't know what to think of it or how to deal with it," Overcast said to Luna. 

"What troubles you, Overcast?" 

The colt seemed aware of the shift in Luna's tone. 

"While we were getting the game set up, Almanac told us that she has no brothers or sisters. After she was born, her parents decided to stop having foals. They wanted to give her the best possible shot in life and they knew that raising a unicorn would be difficult. Her parents wanted to make sure that she had all of their time, might it be needed. They're earth ponies… and they did all of this without really knowing or understanding much about unicorns. I can't… I just can't imagine earth ponies not having a whole herd of foals, because that's kind of what they do and I don't want to sound tribalist but there is truth to what I said. They gave up everything that makes them earth ponies just so that Almanac might have a chance of being a halfway decent unicorn. I can't wrap my head around it." 

"Hmm," Luna hmmed, because it seemed that a good hmm was in order. 

"I guess that sometimes, you give up whatever it is that makes you a pony, or at least stand out as a pony, so that you might be a better parent… I'm making a mess of this and the words came out all wrong." 

"The fact that you think about such things at all says much about you." 

"I can't stop thinking about things and that's my problem," he said to her. 

"Well, I am about to give you a surplus of new things to think about," she said to him in return. 

"I want to be wrong about them," Overcast said. "But I've seen too much evidence to the contrary. Nothing survives life." 

Something was different. Off somehow. This wasn't just base melodrama. There was too much pain in these words. Overcast had been exposed to all of the wrong things at the wrong time and whatever sunny outlook he might have had at one time was now, well, very much his namesake. Overcast. He stepped away from her, tilted his head, and had a look around. 

Luna too, allowed herself to take in the spectacle of this place. 

"Overcast, if you don't mind me asking, how did you know that was my sister, Celestia, in the entryway?" 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied. 

"Try me. Did you break into some repository of knowledge to find out?" 

"No, nothing like that." He sighed, shook his head, and sidestepped away. "When I try to tell adults certain things, they don't believe me. Or they don't listen. So there's no point in trying to explain myself." 

"Well, you and I, we're going to ignore all of that. I want you to trust me, and I would like to trust you. You know, of course, that I have ways of knowing if you lie to me. So, let us establish ourselves. Tell me, how did you know that was Celestia? That knowledge has passed from this world. I want to believe that it was just a guess, but I don't think that's the case. You're too perceptive for base guesses." 

"I just knew," he said. "When I first found my way down here, I just knew. When I saw the statue… I sensed magic in it… when I tried to connect to the magic, because I wanted to know what it was… something happened. I saw the statue, but it had flesh. It was Princess Celestia. There was a jolt… that weird sensation when lightning hits the lightning rod and the air is charged. I felt… something. It gave me a headache. Then all the skeletons on the wall moved. I saw them looking at me. Heads moved. They did, I swear it. I wasn't imagining it. I couldn't move for a while… I don't know how long. Thought I was going to die down here. But then I could move again, and I, well, I don't know how I knew, but I knew for certain I was welcome here. I was allowed to pass. So I did. And I've been coming down here ever since." 

"Peculiar." 

"Do you believe me?" he asked in a worried way. 

"I do," she replied in the most reassuring manner that she could muster. She sensed no deception in his words, no exaggeration. If anything, there was more to it, and he was withholding something. What was unknown. Something had happened. She looked down at him so that she might study him, and wondered what else he had to tell her about this curious incident. 

"I know secrets," he whispered. "Things I shouldn't know. They're just… in my head. There's things I know that there are no explanations for. I shouldn't know them." 

"Since we're being honest with one another, there is something I want to know." 

"And that is?" 

"How did you get into advanced matter manipulation classes?" 

He did not answer; in fact, he backed away. 

"See, that doesn't add up. You're too young. Something is amiss." As he retreated, she followed, and she lowered her head down so that she might look him in the eye. "What are you hiding, Overcast?" 

"None of your beeswax!" he said as she advanced. 

"Oh, but it is. And we're going to sort things out, Overcast. I have plans for you, but first, we need to clear the air and be rid of any lingering dishonesty. This is your chance to come clean." 

"If I tell you, you'll take away everything I've worked so hard for. So, no!" 

It was the wrong answer; Luna carefully considered her next move. While she wanted to be Overcast's friend, his mentor, he wasn't being cooperative. Since it was unlikely that he could be intimidated, she would have to find some means of coercion. There was so much to say and this wasn't a great start to everything. She would have to improvise and she wished that she'd planned this better. 

"Am I to take that as an admission of guilt?" she asked. 

He froze. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and his teeth clicked faintly when his mouth closed for a second time. She saw panic in his eyes, and fear as well. But not fear of her, no. He was not afraid of her, which made things difficult. Fear made ponies submissive and it was useful, on occasion. Now, Luna had a pony that was completely unafraid of her and she didn't know what to do with him. 

"Why does it matter?" he asked. "I can do the work and I have a passing grade." 

"It matters because you are mine," she said. "I am saving you from yourself. Things change. Starting now. These are the first moments of your reformation. My sister demands that you be made a prefect… a praepostor and you—" 

"I'll not be a snitch!" 

"That's funny," Luna deadpanned. "You think you have a choice." 

"You can't make me—" 

"But I can," she said as she loomed large over him. "You have no free agency but what I give you. You are a foal. I am an adult. Beyond that, I am responsible for your care and well-being. I too, know secrets, and I know for certain that you've begun to dabble in the dark arts. You've started down a path from which few return, and those that do, they do not return whole of mind nor body. This ends! Now. You can either choose to cooperate, or you will be made to cooperate. Either way, you will cooperate. The freedom of choice will be returned to you at such a time when you are deserving." 

"So you'll just force me to spill my guts?" he asked. 

"Would you like a demonstration?" 

"Do it," he said to her. "Just do it. I dare you. Do it more than once and I'll figure out how you do it, and I'll do it to others. I'll make you sorry!" 

Luna experienced the curious sensation of infuriated adoration for the young colt. He was bold. Fearless. He would make a fine servant—but first he would have to be made to serve. The real trick was doing so without breaking him, because she valued his fiery vim. In this moment, they understood one another. At least, Luna believed this. Overcast had to know he couldn't win, but coming along quietly just wasn't in his nature. 

It was the exact reason why the guard had to hammer him down. 

"What happened to the little colt that worshiped my shadow?" she asked. 

"You got bossy," he replied. "So go get stuffed!" 

"I suppose my only recourse is to remove you from your class and—" 

"Don't do that!" He backed away, hesitated, and then moved closer. "If I tell the truth, can I stay? I can do the work. I can!" 

Saying nothing, offering nothing, Luna waited. 

"I cheated my way into the classes," he confessed. 

"I am disappointed," she replied. "If only you had made it in on your own merits, I might have been impressed." 

"My own merits…" He sucked in a deep breath. "My own merits…" Again, a deep breath and his unswollen eye began twitching as a sort of apoplectic rage overtook him. "Listen here, you big dumb spook! You have no idea what I went through to get into those classes! I belong there!" His shouted words echoed through the archives, no doubt disturbing the lurking grues. 

"It took me over a year to get in… I had to break into the school records office and the registry office! Every month they change their security! Multiple layers of security! I had to probe without getting caught and learn all kinds of spellcraft to break in. It took me months just to be able to get through the doors to those offices, and even longer to learn how to forge the records! I couldn't afford to make even a single mistake, because it would mean getting caught! So everything had to be perfect! 

"And when I changed my classes, nopony suspected a thing! Because it's impossible to do what I did! Nopony questioned it! No one! Because of the sheer impossibility of doing what I did, my teachers just assumed I belonged in my classes! By my own merits! Because I am gifted! They're so smug and secure with their perfect security system that none of them suspected a thing! I earned my way into my classes! I made my own test!" 

She watched as the rage bubbled through him, caused his muscles to twitch, and made his face contort in unpleasant ways. His mane grew damp and a faint sheen of perspiration moistened his brows. When he started to chew his lip, she wanted to make him stop—but she failed to act because she wasn't sure what to do next. A part of her wanted to praise him for being clever, and she hated that part of herself. What he needed was a right good scolding, but she just couldn't bring herself to do that. 

Conflicted, torn between her own inner light and darkness, Luna struggled to conclude what was right or wrong. 

Not only was she failing herself at this moment, but Overcast as well. 

"It was the most difficult thing I've ever done," he said, and this time his words were a hoarse whisper. "I couldn't make mistakes. It would have been the end of my academic career. Every month, the security would change and I would have to start anew. I would only get so far until I encountered something new and unfamiliar to me, and then I would be forced to retreat so I could learn how to deal with it. And this happened over and over and over and over until I thought I would go mad and I almost gave up because it was more trouble than it was worth. But I kept at it… I don't know why I did. It was the only thing that made sense in my life at the time. During all of this, I learned more about magic than I had the entire time I was in school. When I finally defeated the system, I very much felt as though I deserved the reward I gave myself." 

At a loss for words, Luna could only stare. If Celestia knew about this, what might she say? What might she do? Little Overcast had schooled himself in the dastardly arts. He wasn't becoming a villain, no… he was a villain. Perhaps Celestia had some inkling of all of this, because she didn't want Overcast expelled. It was infuriating and frustrating, because Celestia never revealed just how much she knew; she maintained a reputation of mystical all-knowingness that benefited her in countless ways. 

When Luna flaunted her mystical reputation—she was the Dreamwalker after all—the little ponies all got scared. But when Celestia did her thing, it was celebrated as a central part of her character. Life just wasn't fair, not at all, not even a little, not even in the slightest. Overcast's rage had boiled over like a pot left on the hob for far too long, and now it appeared as though he might start crying. Very much against her will and her better judgment, Luna pitied him and sympathised with his pain. 

Which felt dangerous, but she couldn't harden her heart enough to stop. 

"The powerful are owed power," the colt said in an almost inaudible whisper. "What is not given to us freely, we will take by force. We have a right to whatever we can take. If the weak cannot defend it, it is ours." 

"Do you really believe that, Overcast?" 

"With all my heart." 

Saddened, Luna knew this lesson would be painful. 

"Then it behooves me to show you the folly of your philosophy," she said to him. "You will be made to serve me. You are too weak to resist me. As a being of immense power, I have a right to whatever I can take. You will be made to serve, to bow, to scrape, to grovel, to kneel. To resist me is to know unending sorrow for the rest of your days." 

He stared at her without fear. 

"Is that what you want, Overcast? An affirmation of your beliefs? Do you wish for me to prove you right?" 

The colt was little more than a statue now and he made no effort to respond. 

"Serve me willingly, and you will become a trusted servant. In time, you will become my ears, and perhaps my eyes as well. Your gifts will be put to good use. You will improve the school. I will show you how to become the change you wish to see in the world. Refuse me at your own peril, but know this: no matter how you answer, you will be made to serve." 

"Am I to be your apprentice?" he asked. 

Luna laughed; terrific peals of it came booming out of her and echoed in the surrounding darkness. It was the very essence of mania, of lunacy. She let go without an iota of restraint. Terrible things that lurked beyond the light joined in and mad cackling could be heard from all around. If Overcast was afraid, he showed no sign; he was still a statue. 

Wiping tears from her eyes with her wings, Luna shook her head. "You have not earned such privilege. You are not being rewarded, young one, no. You are being preserved. Saved from yourself and your folly. In time, you might earn better standing, but not with cheating. Rewards come with doing right." 

"And if I quit school?" he asked. 

"That is not a choice available to you," she replied. 

"So what if I make it so that you have no choice but to toss me out?" 

"You will be made to obey one way or another. To resist is to know futility." 

"But… if I agree and cooperate… I'll get something in return." 

Still wiping her eyes, Luna did not respond but left the colt wondering about the outcome. 

"Surely you must know that if you force me, I'll only grow to hate you. And you… you are sensitive to being hated. You might deny it, but I know for certain that it would hurt you. And if I am made to serve, then I shall spend the rest of my life hurting you. That's not much, but it is some small satisfaction. I will spend the rest of my days reminding you how much you are feared and hated and not trusted. Eventually, my words will get under your skin." 

"You assume of course that I will let you keep your tongue." 

"You're bluffing. If you tore out my tongue, that would hurt your public standing." 

"A silence spell works wonders," she responded. 

When Overcast tried to reply, his mouth moved but no words came out. Luna left him this way so that he could come to fully appreciate and have a bit of gratitude for his own voice—but too late, she realised that he might very well figure out how to cast this spell himself. She may well have hoisted herself by her own petard. This was a bridge that would have to be crossed later, and possibly burnt down. 

Unable to speak, Overcast stuck out the entire length of his tongue. 

"You can't win," she said to him. "Your bargaining posture is highly dubious."

He stared up at her with mute contempt. 

"You are young and foolish. It is not my desire to crush you down, but to lift you up, Overcast. But things must change. You must change. You tread upon a dangerous path. There is nothing worthwhile to be found in the darkness, I assure you. I don't want you to hate me. I do not wish to strip you of your will. I want you to grow, to mature, to know love, happiness, warmth, and light. If you bend your knee now and serve me, faithfully and without reservation, in time, you will be rewarded with trust. And perhaps, with faithful service, even a little bit of power. But a choice must be made. Change must happen. Do you wish to answer?" 

She relaxed her influence over him and he did not respond. Not right away. What he did do was stare at her with undisguised loathing and contempt. Few had the courage to look at Luna in such a way, and fewer still would survive her savage reciprocation. She showed incredible mercy in allowing this continued insolence, because she knew that Overcast was having a rough day. A hard time. He was having a difficult go at things. But, at some point, her patience would be spent. 

"Be my ears. Help me to fix the school. Alert me to problems before they fester. Tell me about students deep in the throes of trouble. Help me make things better. Whatever you have planned, you will only make things worse. If we work together, improvements can be made." Then, in a moment of shrewd intuition, she tried a different approach. 

"If not for yourself, then for your new friends. Think of Wednesday and Topper and Almanac. You could help give them the sort of school they deserve. You could—" 

"What would I have to do?" 

Relieved beyond all measure, Luna let heave a sigh. A bad case of the trembles set in and she was forced to steady herself before she slipped up and revealed her moment of weakness. Clearing her throat, she said, "It starts by being honest. If you have other crimes to confess, we must sort them out. I have to be able to trust you. And you… you must have the desire to do right for right's sake." 

"Oh, I have much to confess," he replied. "But I guess you know that. You're cruel to string me along like this. You force me to spill my guts and then you take from me everything I hold dear. What lessons do you wish to teach me by doing this? What am I to take away from this?" 

"What lessons—" 

"Adults are careless with the lessons they teach," Overcast said, interrupting Luna. "Do as I say, not as I do. There's a lesson I learned early on. I learned that power meant brazenly displaying your hypocrisy without fear. Since coming to this school, I've learned many lessons, though perhaps not the ones the teachers intended to teach. So… what lessons do you have prepared for me? What am I to take away from you into my adulthood?" 

"I'm sorry that you've been hurt by the careless adults around you. I really am." 

The colt recoiled as if he'd been struck. His mask slipped off and she clearly saw the pain found within his unswollen eye. Not so much a physical pain—though there was plenty of that—but all the mental pain he kept bottled up inside of him. It was clear that he was expecting her to push back, to dominate, but her apology caught him off guard. He became as he truly was; a scared, frightened juvenile lost in a dark wilderness of hurt. When he tried to restore his defenses, he failed. Spectacularly. Overcome, Overcast turned away to hide his face from her. 

"If you help me, together, we can hold them accountable. Not for the sake of retribution, but for the betterment of the school. So everypony benefits. It would be so much easier with your help." 

"I didn't mean for things to go as far as they did… really, I didn't. Everything just snowballed. I'm sorry. I don't… I don't even know why I'm fighting. It's stupid. I just… I just hate being wrong. I'm worried that everything I have will be taken away. Some things are more painful to lose than others." 

"Overcast—" 

"You're the Dreamwalker. You might be the only pony that truly understands me. But I'm pushing you away just like I do everypony else. Why do I do that? I can't trust anypony. The moment it feels like there's going to be trouble, I just… self-destruct. I'm sorry." 

"Overcast," she said again, "do you want my help?" 

"Please… just make the hurting stop if you can. I'll do anything you ask." 

A few seconds slipped past… 

"Is there anything that you wish to tell me? Anything of importance to confess?" 

He turned around and when he did, his expression was one of pained pleading. For a short time, he looked up at her, sighed, and then cast his gaze down to the floor. "I have a cat. We're not supposed to have pets, but lots of the students do. They have mice or gerbils or hamsters or even birds, all of which are a violation of the rules. But I have a cat. Please, please don't take him." 

"You have a cat?" she asked. 

"I do." 

"What is his name?" 

"Placebo." 

"You have a cat you call Placebo." 

"I'm pretty positive that whatever happiness he gives me has to be an illusion. Just a trick of the brain. Chemistry and such being what it is. It can't be real… but I rather like the effect. If you take my cat away, I will never forgive you." 

"If I took what made you happy away from you, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself." 

Conflicted, uncertain, Overcast didn't seem convinced. "What do you want from me? How do I save my cat? I know I've broken the rules. I've broken a lot of rules. I'll probably break more rules when I think that nopony is watching. I don't want to lose anything I've worked hard for, but I'll give it all up for my cat. He's all I have." 

There was no act here, no manipulation. No overblown sense of drama. There was only brutal sincerity. Overcast was willing to give up everything for the sake of his cat. For Luna, this was affirmation of what she already knew, and if a cat is what it took to lure a pony out of the darkness, that was a small price to pay. That he cared about anything at all was a positive sign. It was something for her to work with, but it wasn't a bargaining chip, a conditional reward to be yanked away as punishment. That would be damaging in the extreme. 

"As a prefect, certain allowances can be made. I give you my word, you will keep your cat." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, but you must show more kindness to all animals. No more experimenting on frogs and such." 

"But…" He blinked, shook his head, and tried again. "But we dissect frogs. We study them. They're just… frogs." 

"The intent is what matters. Why inflict needless suffering?" 

"Fine. I can spare a bit of mercy for frogs. For Placebo." 

"You really love your cat," she said to him. 

He shrugged, then did so for a second time, and offered no response. 

"I would like to meet your cat," Luna said. "We should leave this dark place. Take me to your quarters, Overcast. So that I might say hello to Placebo. We still have much to discuss." 

"Just… please… please don't take my cat. I hope I can trust you." 



 

The colt's quarters weren't anything like Luna expected. But then again, she didn't know what to expect from Overcast. He kept surprising her at every turn. Everything was clean enough, but somewhat cluttered. Upon entering, the first thing that she noticed was that Overcast was a philatelist; there were dozens of books about the subject on the shelf, as well as small glass and wood cases filled with stamps. There appeared to be an interest in zeppelin stamps in particular, and a focus upon airmail. 

His quarters were not smelly, as one might expect of a young colt left to his own devices. The bed was made, though not made well. Perhaps Placebo mussed the covers. But the cat was not on the bed, no. At the moment, the polydactyl, polycaudal beast sat upon Overcast's back, and they greeted one another with warm affection. Of course the colt had a mutant cat fit for a circus sideshow. Placebo's congested purring was really rather loud and filled the room with a comforting sound. 

There were curious things to be found here. A collection of pickled punks sat upon the back edge of the desk, with everything from breezies to parasprites. Small things. Nothing too horrific, but it was still an odd collection. There were books about magic, both practical casting and theory. A potions textbook lay open on the desk, and there was an assignment tucked beneath it. 

Though, the strangest thing of all was found when Luna turned about to examine the other side of the room. There, on the workbench, was a lump of hairy clay. It wasn't clay with hair stuck into it, no. It was clay that was clearly growing hair and it put off a peculiar, somewhat unwholesome magic signature. This was unnatural in the extreme, a reckless bit of experimentation. The clay was dried out, a bit cracked in places, and Luna could sense that it was dying. Slowly. Though she could not sense if it was in pain. 

"Overcast…" 

"Yes?" 

"You have… hairy clay." 

His face flushed and turned dark. "I was trying to invent velvet pottery. I got the clay to grow hair, but it was too long and not fuzzy. When put into the kiln, the clay died and the hair started to fall out. I don't have a clue what went wrong. Been meaning to get it sorted out, but I've been a bit distracted lately." 

"But… Overcast… why would the world need velvet pottery?" 

"You ask me that, but I ask you, why wouldn't the world need velvet pottery?" 

Turning herself about, she focused all of her attention upon Placebo, and tried to ignore the dying lump of hairy clay now behind her. The sooty grey cat appeared healthy, showed no signs of being experimented upon, and clearly loved Overcast. She counted at least three tails, two that were long, and a short stubby one. There might have been more, but she couldn't see them. Lots of toes. Too many toes. 

Try as she might, she could not focus on the cat, not with the grotesque experiment behind her. As delicately as possible, she asked, "Overcast, dear, what on earth would possess you to make clay grow hair? Honestly now, what were you thinking? I mean, such demented imagination… while I do admire your creativity, I cannot imagine any sort of practical purpose." 

He shrugged; it was infuriating, but Luna held herself in check. 

There had to be a purpose; perhaps he was hiding it from her just to be contrary. 

"The real trouble with hairy pottery is that when you bake it in the kiln, there is the terrible stench of burning hair. I envisioned fuzzy flower pots and such when I first conceived of the idea. Perhaps the fuzz could change colour when the plant was in need of watering and the soil was too dry. A dense coat of fuzz might help a teacup stay hot longer." He tilted his head off to one side and looked up at Luna. "If you stop to think about why you shouldn't do something, you'll never get anything done. Just go where your ideas take you." 

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you have the demented vagary of a crackpot." 

The colt scowled for a moment, his ears twitched, his nostrils flared, and then he snorted. "That's not funny. You leave my pottery skills out of this." 

"Are you calm?" she asked. 

"I have my cat," he replied. 

"That will have to do," she said to him. "We're not finished. There is still much to sort out. Hopefully we can finish without any unpleasantness." 

"I always feel better with Placebo. At least I think I do. The effect is uncertain." 

"Dare I even ask how you found your cat? Was he a stray?" 

"Are you asking me to confess yet another of my crimes?" 

"How many crimes have you committed?" 

"I refuse to answer that without assurances that I will be spared." 

"And you've already failed the first lesson, Overcast. You must learn to trust me. As difficult as that is, more so now with our rough start, you must give me answers when I ask questions." 

"What am I to expect in return?" 

"That's not how this works. As I have said, I am an adult. You are a foal. Like it or not, you will do as you are told. When I ask a question, you will answer me. A straight answer. An honest answer. That is the cost of my tutelage." 

"Tutelage?" 

"You'd make for a poor servant in your current state. First, you must be groomed for the position. You will be taught charm. Charisma. You will learn to make friends and to gain the trust of others. If you are to be my representative, all of your rough edges must be smoothed over." 

"I see." 

"Not yet you do not. But you will. Now tell me… how did you acquire your cat?" 

He shuffled on his hooves, his tail swished behind him, and he furtively averted his gaze so that he might look elsewhere. "There was an alchemist's shop. I heard him yowling inside. The lock on the door wasn't a very good one, and the alarm wasn't much to mention. When I found Placebo, he was sick. I liberated him and nursed him back to health." 

Luna was about to say something that might have been a bit harsh, but then she thought about how she'd broken into Twilight's home. She suspected that there was more to this that Overcast wasn't telling her. Or maybe there wasn't. Perhaps it really was this straight forward. Given his natural propensity for crime, this was just how the colt approached a problem. It would have to be corrected—or harnessed for the greater good. 

Her mind felt sharper than it had in a long time. She had a curious sense of focus now. A purpose. Was this why Celestia took on students? Perhaps there was something in common with her sister, and if so, Luna was glad for it. Overcast had turned his attention to his cat and was clucking his tongue at the sleepy-but-contented creature. The small colt could be sensitive to the needs of others, which made him stand out. Though, perhaps not in a good way before his peers. 

Sighing, Luna knew that she had her work cut out for her. 

She too had started down a dark path because of a desire to do good. 

Charon made no change when he accepted good intentions in exchange for a boat ride to Tartarus. All sales were final. No returns. The river was swift and wide, but the crossing was shockingly quick. For as bad as the situation was, it wasn't as awful as she had first thought. Overcast had redeeming qualities. He could show considerable kindness to others, but only to those he felt were deserving. Which was a problem. Luna had that same problem, though she dared not admit it. To help Overcast, she would have to first help herself. Get herself sorted out. 

"So if I'm not your student, who will teach me? My teachers? The ones who've gone missing?" 

This unexpected question caught Luna off guard, but she was quick to recover. 

"Tutors, of course. Quite possibly the same tutors my sister uses to educate the students she takes an interest in. Are you warming up to all of this, Overcast?" 

"Don't know yet. I don't like being forced into all of this." 

"Do better. Options and choice will be restored to you. Cease your felonious hobbies." 

"Look, I'm not dumb. You want me around because of my felonious hobbies." 

Upon hearing this, Luna's expression turned deadpan. 

"Just saying. If I don't keep those skills in practice, they'll grow rusty. And then what'll you do?" He glanced at the purring feline on his back for a second, and then squinted up at Luna. "We have to be honest with each other, right?" 

"The essential arts of—ahem—spycraft—ahem—will be taught to you in a safe, protected environment that poses no risk of harm to others," Luna said with great care, choosing each word with considerable caution. "It seems there is no dancing around this issue. No being shy about what you're called to do. But you must be discrete. Polite. These are things that should not be discussed. Not even with your friends. Which reminds me… there is a matter that I must bring to your attention." 

The colt appeared to listen. 

"I want you to be friends with Almanac. Special friends. Without realising it, you've done her great harm. That must be addressed. You will help her trust in her teachers and the authority figures in her life. Become a fine example for her. While I would never take your cat away—I can clearly see that you need him and that he is a stabilising presence in your life—I do expect for you to give something in return other than just your base cooperation. Do we understand each other?" 

There was a soft sigh from Overcast, and after a moment spent in thought, he nodded. 

"Anything to say about this? I will listen to whatever concerns you might voice." 

"It's just… I don't trust my teachers. At all. Not sure how I'm supposed to help her. A part of me thinks I'll just make things worse no matter what I do." 

"Then you will learn to trust together. Help will be had." 

"I really am sorry for how I acted. I don't know what came over me. I just felt… threatened." 

Luna nodded in a knowing way. "You have trouble feeling threatened." 

"Look at me," he whispered. "I'm practically pink. Just look at me. I have no athletic skill to speak of. There's nothing about me that stands out… or, at least, that is how it was before I learned how to be strong. I was good enough to get into this school, but being a gifted unicorn in Canterlot is just sort of expected. I was teased. Picked on. Put down. I went from being barely adequate to what I am now. And to lose all of that…" He shook his head. 

These words weighed heavily upon Luna's heart. She knew the feeling. To be inadequate. But in her case, it was in contrast to one that shone so brightly. Overcast had cured himself of his mediocrity, but had gone too far. Now it consumed him—in very much the way that Luna's own ambition had once devoured her. There was a lot to sort out here, for both Overcast and herself. 

"Advanced matter manipulation and classes like that… the grading is simplified." The colt tensed. "In some ways, it makes things better, but also worse. You don't have to worry about percentages, or extra credits, or fighting to keep your grades above a certain point. You just have to pass. I am the youngest in my classes. Most of my classmates are twice my age. They're more mature. Nicer. They don't tease as much, if at all. 

"Many of them fail. It's just a thing that happens. But we know the cost of failure and we help each other. It's different from my other classes. Better. I crave it. Something we all learned early on was that we have strength in numbers. The more of us there are, the better our odds at overcoming a problem. Each of us approaches a problem in a different way. So we band together to make sure we all pass. For each of us that fails, and when our numbers dwindle, we lose some of our shared knowledge. I know I cheated. I know what I did. But I belong there. My classmates depend on me and I depend on them. I don't think that we're friends, but there is something… I don't know what it is. I just know that it is important." 

"So to fail once…" 

"Means getting tossed out of the class. And when we lose somepony, we all grieve. I think it's grief. I don't actually know. But it feels like very real loss and we all struggle to deal with it. I hate it. Hate it. I hate it more than anything and it eats at me." 

"You are being open with me. I appreciate that. Thank you." 

"You're the Dreamwalker. I… you… well, I—" The colt failed to finish his sentence and his stammering turned to muffled heavy breathing. 

"And you admire that. Beyond that, you sympathise with that, and you are one of the few that can truly commiserate with the troubles and hardships I face. You find yourself in a confusing and conflicting position, Overcast. You resent the authority figures in your life because you feel slighted and betrayed. But you still feel a sense of worshipful reverence for me. It must feel like you're being torn in two." 

In the moment of silence that followed, Luna knew that they had reached an understanding. Something changed in Overcast's demeanour; something brightened in some vague almost imperceptible way. She had established a door, perhaps. In a metaphorical sense, doors could be slammed shut, or left open. Either way, they remained doors, and as such, they allowed access. In this, Luna saw promise. While things would not be easy, and Overcast would no doubt raise many walls, there was a door. An understanding that opened both ways. All it took was a knock to remind the other that the door existed. 

Doors were also a fantastic means to move about in dreams. 

"So why can't I experiment with frogs?" asked Overcast. "I mean, that's what they're there for. I'm not being defiant. I'm just trying to understand." 

Luna took a deep breath and then replied, "As I have stated, intent matters. You have dabbled into darkness. Cruel experimentation will only further worsen your condition. Compassion is the cure." 

"Sort of like how I found Placebo. I think the alchemist I stole him from was using him to see if potions were safe. Or something. So… I guess frogs shouldn't suffer needlessly just so I can perfect my spellcraft. I'd never really thought about it before. Of course, now I am wondering why we use frogs at all." 

Having no good answer, Luna did not know how to respond. 

"So… what comes next? I assume there are more conditions. What must I do?" 

He was taking this rather well, now that he had come around. Which gave Luna confidence to do what she knew must be done. There were of course other things, little things, trivial things that she had fully intended to discuss, but now seemed like a good time to get right to the heart of the matter. Overcast's mood might survive it—or it could destroy him completely. 

She feared the latter might be the outcome. 

"You have a great many stamps," she said as she allowed herself a look around his room. "Upon my return, I found the post office a most curious institution." 

He was taken completely off guard by this but was quick to recover himself. "I, uh, well, um, yes, stamps are fascinating, but only, uh, well, uh, stamps are fascinating because of, um, well, because of what they represent." 

Luna asked the question that Overcast clearly wanted her to ask. "And what is it that stamps represent?" 

"We assign value to scraps of paper," he replied with a bit more of his usual poise and grace. "Just sticky bits of paper. With glue. But the paper represents a monetary value. A scrap of paper that is assigned an arbitrary value, an exchange of goods and services. But it is so much more than that. With a scrap of paper, we compel a public servant to carry a letter from one place to another… but that letter can be ideas. Inspiration. The letter itself has value. At least, it can. But… this whole exchange, including an arduous cross-country trek for some letters, we assign it the value of just a few bits. Nothing more. With a scrap of paper, we can set a complex series of events into motion with significant outcome at the other end." 

Eyes narrowing, Luna studied the now squirming colt, who clearly had more to say. 

"I find the whole system quite exploitive," he continued. "We depend upon the pegasus ponies as our messengers. Because they can fly. Yet those same pegasus ponies have trouble using the stamps we unicorns invented to send letters. Earth ponies too. They have trouble tearing a stamp off of a sheet, licking the back of it, and then affixing it to a letter. For us unicorns, we barely even exert any effort at all. It's the milk carton problem, but worse." 

He stumbled backwards, unceremoniously dumped poor Placebo onto the bed, and then sat down himself. "As problematic as they are, and as much trouble they cause my mind, I cannot stop collecting them. They are tiny portraits. Art. On a teeny-tiny scale. I love the details to be found beneath a magnifying glass. Some stamps have hidden pictures made from tiny dots that can't be seen under normal circumstances." 

"You are very sensitive about things." This wasn't a question, but a statement. Luna, though stating the obvious, felt it needed to be said. "Saying these things around your peers, revealing how you think and how you feel, it got you teased. It set you apart. You were made to feel different. Excluded. As if there was something wrong with you because of how you saw the world." 

Silent, Overcast sent his gaze straight down to the floor and did not respond. 

"You were mocked and ridiculed. Belittled. Made to feel ashamed for merely thinking." 

Reaching out, Overcast scooped up Placebo, and held him—but offered no response. 

"So now, you seek out the details of others. To know their secrets. You listen. You observe. And you no-doubt humiliate them and mock them when given a chance so that they might share your pain." 

Saying nothing, Overcast offered no denial. 

"I was once like you… and I suppose in some ways, I still am," Luna confessed. 

She moved closer, reached out with her wing, and with great tenderness, she touched his bruised cheek. "There's a better way. I'll show you. I'm bound to make mistakes, because I'm still learning to navigate this new path. The best revenge is a life well-lived. Will you work with me? Please, do not feel threatened. My goal is not to take away, but to give. I know this must be scary. The unknown is always scary. But whatever awaits you in the dark is worse, I assure you. The power that you crave is but bait in a trap. It might seem attainable… but what you lose for what you gain… please, please do not make the mistakes that I have." 

She cleared her throat and found her own heart racing. 

"We start tonight. This very even. It is time to rip off the scab and drain out the poison." 

"What must I do?" he asked. 

"You must reconcile with your parents." 

"I can't." The response came out with a slight hitching.

"You can. And you will." 

"No," he replied, "I can't. What you're asking is impossible." 

"You are wrong, Overcast, and you—" 

"No, you're wrong!" he shouted. "It's too complicated! Too impossible! My mother tried to come and talk to me. She came to the school. She just wouldn't stop! I had her removed from the visitor list and she was barred from the school grounds. I can't fix things now. It would mean explaining why I did everything I did and all the things she did and all the things my dad did, and I can't deal with those things! It's too much at once! Every time I think about trying to fix it, I just end up overwhelmed and depressed and it makes me not want to live." 

"But you have thought about fixing it," she said to him. 

He began to sniffle and clung tightly to his cat. "When you put your wing around me, it made me want my mom. It made me remember her. It made things difficult for me. A part of me hated you for doing it. I was angry with you for making me remember and it all came bubbling out earlier. It's why I was so cross. I'm sorry. Please, don't make me do this. I can't." 

"A clearer picture emerges," Luna said to the troubled colt. "No doubt, after the relentless mockery of your peers and fellow classmates, you've been made ashamed of wanting your mother. Your refuge beneath her wing. A place of solace and comfort for you. A place where—" 

"Will you just shut up!" he shouted. 

Much to Luna's surprise, her response was not one of anger, but of pity. Without meaning to do so, she had injured him. She had carelessly tweaked the festering wound. What arose from within her depths was guilt—but not the crippling sort of guilt that overwhelmed her. This was something else, something unknown. Something almost welcomed. There was a warmth to it that spread through her mind and ignited hope within her thoughts. 

"I'm sorry," he said, apologising. 

"I am as well," she was quick to say. "Honestly. Truly. The pain of this wound must be unbearable." 

"It eats at me," he wheezed, and from the choked sound of his voice, it was obvious that he struggled to hold back his sobs. 

"Anger and hatred make the ache go away… or at least be not as noticeable. It dulls the pain. Like ice on a bruise." 

When he nodded, she was terrified. Cold dread settled through her muscles and knotted her guts. Not only did Luna fear this old pain, she feared the memory of this pain, and it promised a return. But she was not overwhelmed. Black despair found no purchase. She was so concerned with the agony of another that she stayed out of reach of her own self-inflicted torment. 

"I will help you, I promise. But you have to trust me. I will help you make things better. Just give me your trust, Overcast. We can do this together." 

"I can't." 

"I am aware of how impossible this feels. And it might very well be impossible for you to deal with. You may not be able to face this alone. But, you are not alone. I will be with you." 

"How do I even start?" he whimpered. A wordless whine slipped out, followed by a low moan of anguish. "Why must it take so long for love to die? Why must it ache? I just wanted everything to go dead and it just wouldn't. Things kept happening… like you putting your wing around me. It hurts so much. I can't take this anymore." 

"When Almanac hugged you today, you thought of your mother." 

He did not respond. Instead, he pressed his face against his cat, and hid himself. As for Luna, she stood there bearing witness to all of this. Overcast was a wreck, a ship smashed upon the rocks. While she couldn't stop the collision, she could save him from drowning. She would aid in his recovery. Poor Placebo, now soaked with tears, meowed in protest but made no effort to escape. 

"And this… this is your attraction to the archives. Things committed to memory, but still forgotten. A record of things that once were, but are no longer. You sought to forget in a place intended for remembrance." 

"It made me feel better to know that they were all somehow remembered even if they weren't around." His words were muffled because of Placebo, but still clear enough to be understood. "Will you really help me?"

"Do you doubt that I will?" she asked. 

"I just don't see how you can help me," he replied. When he pulled his face away from his cat, he was a mess of tears and cat hair. "If you give me my mother back, I will be your slave. Anything you ask of me, I'll give you. My life is yours. All of it. I don't think I can be trusted with it. Just… just look at the mess I've made of things. If you can fix this and make the pain go away, I will give you all of me." 

"Are you ready to go?" she asked. 

"Right now?" Cringing, the colt seemed to shrink in size. 

"There's no point in delaying. It will be a long walk home for you. Longer than you know. It begins by turning around, facing the light, and walking out of the darkness. That… that is a long walk. I know from experience. Tonight, you will experience endless distance. And I shall walk beside you every terrible step of the way." 

"I don't know if I can. I think I need some time so I can—" 

"There is no time," she deadpanned. "With every second that passes, this will only grow more difficult. Trust me, I know." 

Slowly, his expression pained, Overcast put his cat down upon the bed. He touched Placebo once, stroked him, almost as if he were apologising for the mess. The cat immediately flopped over onto a pillow, kicked out his legs, and flexed his abundance of toes. There were just far too many toes for one cat. Placebo had a surplus of toes for several. 

"What if she doesn't want to talk to me?" he asked. 

"I am not one to be refused." Luna's dull deadpan persisted; she was far too emotional but she was needed. 

Yes, she was needed, and that was good. 

"A bargain has been struck, Overcast. You have offered me your life, and I intend to keep it. In return, I will give you a life. One of promise. Of goodness. Of everything that you prove worthy of. In exchange for your fealty, you will be given a life of servitude. With time, with trust, you might even be given a bit of power, once you have shown that you are worthy of it. Everything your heart desires begins with a long walk. First I return to you your mother and father. Other things of value will be given to you later. Treasures beyond comprehension await you. Will you follow me?" 

Bowing his head, the colt offered up a weak, feeble nod. "I will." 

"Do you know what faith is, Overcast?" 

"No," he replied, shaking his head from side to side. "I've never given it much thought." 

"Faith is allowing your hooves to take you where your heart would choose not to go. What you are doing right now, this is an act of faith. Faith is courage. But no matter what other ponies might say, faith does not have to be blind. Tonight, your eyes will be forcibly opened, and the light will be blinding. There will be pain. Your legs may fail you. All manner of metaphorical events might happen. But you will endure because I will be there with you. If you cannot see, then I shall be your eyes. If you legs fail you, I will carry you. Should the darkness reach for you, it will be reminded that I am its mistress and that you belong to me. Your faith will be rewarded. Do not let your heart be troubled." 

Not a word was spoken in response; there was just a nod. 

"Tonight, I give a mother back her son," she said in a low whisper. Then, unspoken, she added, Tonight I will be the pony my sister believes me to be.

It would be a long night; perhaps longer than anypony could anticipate. But the sun would rise. The gift of gold would restore hope to the world. Life would show its appreciation with a recompense of green. For Luna, this would be a night where the ending would be of greater importance than its beginning. The sun was already retreating, she could feel it. 

This was the time for the moon to shine, and so too would Luna.