//------------------------------// // The Dream Maker, Part Three (New) // Story: SAPR // by Scipio Smith //------------------------------// The Dream Maker, Part Three “Ditzy?” Trixie called out as she ran through the streets of Arcadia Lake, her cape billowing out behind her. “Ditzy?” She stopped for a moment, looking around. “I swear this island didn’t look so big from the outside.” “Things do look smaller on the outside,” Starlight observed as she caught up with her team leader. “It’s to do with them being further away.” “Okay, okay,” Trixie said. “But where could she have gone? Ditzy!?” “Any idea why she would just take off like that?” Starlight said. “Why would I know why she would just take off like that?” “Because you know her,” Starlight said. “You were at combat school together, right?” “Yeah, but she wasn’t like this,” Trixie replied. “She was … happy fun times.” “You mean like Pinkie Pie?” “No, a different kind of happy fun times,” Trixie explained. “Ditzy … always had a smile and a kind word if you were feeling down about something. She wasn’t the kind of person to yell at you to go away.” “People do change,” Starlight murmured. “Especially when they’ve been through what she has. Losing two of her teammates, I mean … gods, if I lost you and Sunburst, I can’t imagine what would be left of me after that.” “Nothing,” Trixie said confidently. “Thanks.” “There would be nothing left of you,” Trixie said. “Because you’d die yourself before you let any other member of this team. Because you, Starlight Glimmer, are more than just my faithful and glamorous assistant. You are the sea wall of this Tsunami.” She smiled. “Now come on, we need to find Ditzy; after what she’s been through … maybe she has changed, but after what she’s been through—” “She needs a friend more than ever, don’t worry, I get it,” Starlight said. “Ditzy?” They continued to walk through the darkening streets, their eyes scanning left and right, sweeping through the alleyways, searching for any sign of their quarry as the sun set and the sky went dark. “A friend,” Starlight muttered. “Or a team leader, maybe.” “You noticed that too, huh?” Trixie asked. “I noticed a few things, yeah,” Starlight agreed. “Starting with the fact that I don’t see Eve running around the village to make sure that Ditzy’s okay. And I’d cut her some slack on the grounds that she’s in grief, except that I didn’t see very much grief, did you?” Trixie was silent for a moment. “At first, Trixie has to admit, Trixie appreciated the fact that we were being shown a little … appreciation. Not everyone appreciates Team Tsunami the way that we deserve, so it was nice to think that someone had noticed our prowess in combat class, or recognised our successes on missions. But … but I have to say, if I had lost two members of my team, you wouldn’t find me acting like that.” “I know; I’ve seen you get more upset when a show didn’t go to plan,” Starlight said. “Magic is serious business, Starlight, and live performance even moreso,” Trixie declared. “I’m not judging,” Starlight said. “I’m not judging you, anyway.” She paused. “I get that the battle doesn’t stop for casualties, I get that we need to dig deep and keep moving forward, I get that she’s in the middle of a fight right now and maybe focussing on the mission is helping her cope, but … it just doesn’t seem right to me. She doesn’t seem like someone who is holding it together to finish the mission; she seems like someone who doesn’t care.” Trixie was silent for a moment. “Maybe she doesn’t,” she suggested. “You don’t have to care about your teammates. You don’t have to be friends with them. You don’t have to like them. You just have to work together. Maybe she’s not shook up because she never liked them anyway. It might make her a bad person, but it doesn’t … make her a bad person, or a bad huntress.” “Perhaps,” Starlight murmured. “But even if you didn’t like someone to start out with, could you really go through missions in the field and not form some kind of attachment?” Trixie stopped, and looked over her shoulder at Starlight. “What are you suggesting?” Starlight hesitated for a moment. “I … I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want her calling the shots if the grimm come back. I don’t know how you and Sunset plan on handling the command situation, but … I don’t want you deferring to Eve. Because there are a lot of unknowns about this situation, and the only certainty is that she started with a four-man team, and now, she’s down to two. Maybe that was unavoidable, maybe the grimm were too strong, maybe she’s unlucky, or maybe she didn’t try hard enough to come up with a plan that would keep her people alive because it was no skin off her nose if half of them came home in body bags, but either way, I’m not going to follow someone like that into battle. And I won’t let you follow someone like that into battle either. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still my leader, and Sunset and Eve can do as they like.” Trixie stood still and silent for a moment, still turned away from Starlight, the dying red light sparkling off the gold and silver stars that covered her purple cape. She turned around, her cloak furling around her like a flag, and looked up into Starlight’s eyes. “You follow my instructions,” she said quietly. “Just like always.” The corners of Starlight’s lips twitched upwards in the slightest smile. “Always.” “Aww, that’s nice,” said Ditzy. Trixie whirled around to see Ditzy, or at least a small part of Ditzy’s face, watching them from around the corner of a nearby house. Trixie put one hand on her hip. “Ditzy.” “No,” Ditzy said, as those golden eyes disappeared behind the house. “Ditzy!” Trixie cried, running towards the house in question, Starlight hot upon her heels. The two of them rounded the corner to find Ditzy still there, although she had backed away a few paces from the corner — and, by extension, from the two of them. Nevertheless, they had caught up with her, and she wasn’t about to get away from them again now. “Ditzy, what is this about?” Trixie demanded. “Why are you running? It’s me, the Gre— it’s Trixie.” “I know,” Ditzy said. “Which is why you have to go, while you still can.” She shrunk back, hunching her body over, hugging herself. She looked as though she was about to slide down the wall. Trixie took a step towards her, while Starlight began to edge slowly around her. They weren’t trying to cut her off, not really. They were just making sure she couldn’t escape again. Okay, maybe they were trying to cut her off a little bit, but only for her own good. Both Trixie and Starlight knew that when you were in a hole, for whatever reason, you could use a friend to help you out more than you could use being left alone to stew on things. “Ditzy,” Trixie murmured. “What’s this about?” Ditzy turned away, but then glanced back at Trixie anyway. “I always thought you were really cool, you know that? All those tricks, and the way you popped those smoke bombs, the way that you appeared and disappeared like … like magic. And that voice, I thought you had a really cool voice too. You … I always thought you were really cool.” Trixie tilted her chin upwards a little, and put one hand to her chest, fingers spread out in a five pointed star. “Well, of course you did, because The Grrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is cool, and you were rrrrright to take notice of it!” Ditzy smiled, at least a little bit, which was a start. “Yeah. Like that. But most of all … most of all, I thought it was really cool the way that nothing seemed to get to you. Even when people laughed at you, you just kept strutting along, like it didn’t matter. I sometimes wished I could have that kind of confidence.” Trixie chuckled nervously. “I’m glad it seemed that way,” she muttered. “But I don’t see … you never needed that; everyone always liked you.” "Did they?" Ditzy asked. "Did they really?" Trixie hesitated, not sure how to answer. Nobody had really disliked Ditzy — or even kind of disliked Ditzy; nobody had had a bad word to say about her; in that respect, she'd been considerably more fortunate than Trixie herself — but at the same time … Ditzy Doo had been the catch-up girl, the one to make up the numbers when numbers needed to be made up; the one tagging along at the back of the group, running to catch up; the one you called on when you need an extra body because, hey, Ditzy would be up for it, right? Trixie had used her in the transported man trick a couple of times, and sawn her in half besides, and Ditzy had borne it with a smile, but Trixie… Trixie had walked away when the trick was done. She'd walked away and left Ditzy behind. "Ditzy," she murmured. "I'm sorry." Ditzy shook her head. "It's not about that," she said. "I mean, I just … I wish someone would have stayed, you know?" "But you want us to go now," Starlight pointed out. "I don't want you to go," Ditzy replied. "But you have to. You have to get away from me." "From you?" Starlight repeated. "You're not making any sense." "I'm the reason my team is gone!" Ditzy yelled, tears springing at the corners of her eyes. "It's my fault. I'm the reason they're not here." Silence fell amongst the three of them for a moment. Starlight ran one hand through her hair. "Ditzy … sorry, we haven't been properly introduced, have we? I'm Starlight, Starlight Glimmer; I'm Trixie's … teammate, assistant, whatever you want to call it." "I'm Ditzy Doo," Ditzy whispered. "It would be nice to meet you if things were a little different." "Likewise," Starlight said. "But Ditzy … in battle, things happen; it doesn't mean that—" "'Battle'?" Ditzy interrupted. "What are you talking about, Ellie and Nick weren't killed in a battle." "They weren't?" Starlight asked. "But…" She frowned. "Eve said—" "Eve said they were gone," Trixie reminded her. "And when Sunset asked her how the grimm were getting through the dome, she answered," Starlight responded. "If she didn't want us to think that her teammates had been killed by the grimm, that would have been the time to clear things up." "If it wasn't the grimm, if it wasn't a battle," Trixie said, "what happened to the others, Ditzy?" "I did!" Ditzy cried. "I … I had these nightmares. They started after we got there, after that little girl went into her coma, after the dome went up. I had nightmares where … where they left me behind. Eve, Ellie, Nick, they left me behind the way that everyone always leaves me behind. And then … and then, after a few nights, when I woke up … they were gone. Ellie and Nick were gone and … and only Eve was still here." Trixie and Starlight exchanged a glance. "You think," Starlight began. "You think that your teammates disappeared because you dreamed about it." "I know it sounds stupid," Ditzy protested. "But weird things happen here, like grimm showing up out of nowhere and then—" "Disappearing?" Trixie asked. Ditzy nodded. "You saw it too, didn't you? That's what happened when you arrived." "I killed that grimm," Starlight said. "Then why didn't it act like a dying grimm?" Trixie replied. "Why did it focus on Clive?" "You think Clive was having nightmares about a giant grimm water serpent?" Starlight asked. "There are worse things to have nightmares about, don't you think?" Trixie replied. Like clowns, for instance. "That…" Starlight shook her head. "This sounds ridiculous." "Then where are Ellie and Nick?" Ditzy demanded. "Where have they gone?" "And where did all these trees come from?" Trixie asked. She couldn't say exactly when it had happened — it had stolen upon them while they were talking — but at some point, a forest had overtaken the village and the island despite having definitely not been there before. Ditzy moaned. "It's the night. It's always stronger at night. This must be … you need to leave, before my nightmares make you disappear like they did Nick and Ellie! You need to get as far away from me as you can." Trixie looked down at her hands. If Ditzy was right — and if she was wrong, then what had happened to her teammates? — then Trixie didn't know what would happen to her. Would she fade away slowly or just vanish in the blink of an eye? What would it feel like, either way? Would she feel anything at all? Trixie clenched her hands into fists and took a step forward. "I'm not going anywhere," she declared. Ditzy gaped. "But … but why not?" Trixie smiled. "Because The Great and Powerful Trixie won't leave you behind. Not this time." Ditzy blinked rapidly. "Trixie … you … haven't you been listening, you'll … I'll … I—" "You've been afraid," Starlight said, reaching out to place a hand on Ditzy's shoulder. "I get that. We both do." She smiled. "There's nothing scarier in the whole of Remnant than being alone, is there? Because, when you're not alone, then all the other things that you could or maybe should be scared of … they're all so much less scary when you're with someone else. Even if that someone else is screaming their head off right along with you." "Or screaming more than you are," Trixie added, a wry, self-deprecating smile crossing her own features also. "That was you, not me." "I know, you don't have to tell Ditzy that!" Starlight ignored that. "The point is, we know what it's like to feel alone, to feel left behind, to feel like no one will ever want to reach out to us. But we're here, right now, reaching out." Ditzy's mouth trembled. "Why? Why are you saying this when I could … when I could … why aren't you running?" "Because you are a Canterlot Girl, Ditzy Doo," Trixie declared. "And a Canterlot Girl is never alone." She paused. "Trixie didn't treat you the way that you deserve, and Trixie's sorry about that, and if Rainbow Dash and the others heard what you'd just said, then they'd be sorry too, and Lyra, and Bon Bon. Trixie thought, I guess we all thought, that because you were always smiling, that meant that you were okay, that you had everything you needed. If we'd known how you really felt, we would have done so much more to show you that you weren't alone, because that's what it means to be a Canterlot Girl. No matter what school you go to or how far away you go, we're all connected, like … like the stars in the sky, that are all joined together by invisible lines to make an awesome picture! Say it with me, Ditzy: I am a Canterlot Girl." "I am a Canterlot Girl," Ditzy murmured. "Louder like you mean it!" Trixie insisted. "Come on, Starlight!" "I didn't—" "Being a Canterlot Girl is a state of mind!" Trixie declared. "Now come on: I am a Canterlot Girl." "I am a Canterlot Girl," Ditzy said. Her voice firmed up and ceased to tremble. "I am a Canterlot Girl. I am a Canterlot Girl!" "Yes, yes, you are," Trixie said, grabbing Ditzy and Starlight and pulling them into a hug. "And you always will be, and because of that, you'll never be alone." Trixie felt Ditzy's hand upon her back, squeezing her tightly. "You really are great, Trixie." "Trixie is well aware, and powerful too," Trixie said. "But thank you anyway." There was a moment of silence, the three of them locked together, arm in arm, before Ditzy said, "Hey, girls?" "Yeah?" Starlight asked. "Can we sing that song?" asked Ditzy. "The one that Rainbow and the others had?" Ordinarily, Trixie would have refused, and vehemently, but these were decidedly not normal circumstances, and so, she said, "Sure. Why not?" She cleared her throat and trilled out a couple of 'aah aah's to set the pitch for the other two. Then, hoping she could remember how that dorky song went, she began to sing: "You are my Canterlot Girls, You turn the light switch on, It brightens up my day, like the sun, When my friends come a-running," Starlight took over. "You were right all along That together is always better." And then Ditzy: "You could turn a sketch into a masterpiece, When I'm with you, I feel like I'm complete." "You are my Canterlot Girls!" they chorused together, before Ditzy broke out in giggles. "Thanks, girls," she said. "I always wanted someone to do that with." She paused for a moment. "So what do we do now?" The sound of shooting shattered the darkness. A child screamed. Sunset began to run at once, rushing through the wood — it felt more accurate right now to call it a wood than a village, what with the way the ground was covered with grass and twigs and moss and fallen leaves — in the direction that she thought the scream had come from. A nightvision spell upon her eyes enabled her to see better in the dark of the night — with so little light to speak of, the red of the dome had less effect than it had done it daylight, although it cast the moon above in a rather nasty and unpleasant tint — but with so many trees, and the houses remaining in between those trees, it was hard to see what lay between them. "Hello?" Sunset called. "Hello, can anyone hear me?" She noticed that Eve wasn't with her — they must have lost each other in the trees — but Sunset kept on running, running in what she hoped was the right direction, running towards the sound of that scream. She darted and dodged around trees; she pushed branches out of the way and ignored the twigs getting stuck in her hair; she leapt over fallen logs and crunched leaves underfoot and hoped that she was going the right way. The child screamed again, closer now; Sunset ran faster, surer of her destination, and before too long — there! She saw them, a young boy, sitting, back pressed against a tree as though they had scrambled backwards and found that they could scramble no further. There was a man advancing on him. Not a grimm, not a monster, nothing but a man, a gaunt man with greying hair, wearing a suit but no tie, his hands slightly outstretched, but not ridiculously, held as though he meant to grab the boy towards some end Sunset did not wish to guess at. But still, nothing but a man. Sunset teleported the last brief distance between man and boy, interposing herself between the two of them, back to the boy, face to the man, gun to her shoulder. "That's close enough, I think," she said. The man stopped, staring at her — or through her? His eyes showed no reaction to her presence, his expression — grim, in a sort of expressionless way, with his mouth downturned and his jaw set — did not alter. He did not act like a man who was suddenly being confronted with a power equal or greater than his own. He took another step forwards. Sunset hadn't reloaded since their encounter with the grimm in the water, but she still had three rounds in the cylinder, and she fired all three of them, the loud banging sounds getting lost in the trees as the muzzle of Sol Invictus blazed fire. The man did not bleed. His chest was not transformed into a bloody ruin as Adam's had been when Sunset had emptied her rifle into his chest from close range. He did not look as if he had been hit at all. But he staggered backwards, his arms spread out as if he were going to fall, and then he disappeared. "What in Celestia's name?" Sunset murmured. The grimm had been strange, but after all, grimm did disappear once they were killed, even if they didn't usually disappear quite like that. People, on the other hand, did not disappear when they were killed. They had a bad habit of sticking around. And yet there no was no body. There was no sign that there had ever been a man. A suspicion began to creep over Sunset, a suspicion which, as of yet, had no proof to back it up, but which would explain everything. And be bad news besides. Sunset turned to the boy, still cowering against the tree trunk. She knelt down in front of him, so that she was closer to his own height, and smiled. "It's all right. You're going to be okay now; he's gone. I took care of him." The boy stared at her, with wide brown eyes. "Are you a superhero?" Sunset chuckled. "Am I a superhero? No, not quite. I … I'm just doing the best I can." She paused. "My name's Sunset Shimmer; what's your name?" The boy swallowed. "Grayson," he said. "Well it is very nice to meet you, Grayson," Sunset said. "But tell me, what's a boy your age doing out in the middle of the night by himself?" "I don't know," Grayson said. "I want to sleep, and then … then I was here. Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?" Sunset closed her eyes. "No. No, I'm afraid not. Do you often dream of creepy guys coming to get you in the woods?" Grayson swallowed. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I got lost in the woods once, and I’ve … I’ve always been scared of them ever since.” “It’s okay,” Sunset said. “You’re not lost now, you’re…” She trailed off, as the woods around them disappeared, leaving behind only the houses of Arcadia Lake, right where they had always been, only now without all the trees surrounding them. “You’re home,” she said. “Where you’ve always been.” Grayson’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Sunset?” Starlight Glimmer called out, her voice slicing through the darkness like a slash of her halberd. “Sunset, was that you shooting?” “Yes!” Sunset cried out. “Yes, I’m over here.” Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy too, emerged out of the darkness, running towards her. “There was a forest here a second ago,” Trixie said. “That’s been taken care of for now,” Sunset replied. To Grayson, she said, “How far away is your home?” Grayson pointed at a house across the street. “It’s right over there.” “In you go, then; get inside and stay there, at least for a while,” Sunset instructed him, and watched as he ran in that direction. She kept an eye on him until the door into his house opened up and his startled looking mother received him into her arms. Only when the door closed did Sunset return her attention to the other huntresses. “Have any of you seen Eve? We got separated.” “No, but I’d like to have a word with her when she turns up again,” Starlight growled. Sunset didn’t know what that was about and wasn’t sure that she cared at this stage. They could worry about such things later; right now, there were more important issues. “I think I might know what is going on here, at least partially.” “Nightmares are becoming real?” Trixie suggested. Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “How did you—?” “It’s what happened to my teammates,” Ditzy confessed. “I had a nightmare about them leaving, and … and they were gone.” Sunset stared at her. “Oh my,” she murmured, inadequate words, totally, painfully, pathetically inadequate, and yet, at the same time, the only ones she could muster. “But … Eve said—” “That’s what I want to talk to her about,” Starlight said. Maybe she was just trying to protect Ditzy, Sunset thought. “The point is, I think I know why this is happening, or I might do. I need to speak to Professor Scrub to confirm it.” “One thing that still doesn’t make sense is why nightmares would cause the dome,” Starlight said. “Maybe … maybe the dome is someone’s nightmare?” Ditzy suggested. “Absent the other nightmares, it’s not very scary, is it?” suggested Starlight. “Being cut off and running out of supplies isn’t scary?” Sunset asked. “It is, but not in the way that nightmares are,” Starlight replied. “Aren’t nightmares more … visceral?” “You mean like the fact that we’re underground now?” Ditzy asked, pointing upwards. Sunset looked up, and so did everyone else. They were, indeed, underground now. The moon was gone, although funnily enough, she could still see the dome sealing off Arcadia Lake from the outside world, only now it was not closing off the sky but the ceiling of the vast cavern in which they stood. The entire village had been relocated into such a cavern, a place of black rock, where a vast space had been hewn out of the earth and a great city raised underground, where the small and picturesque house of Arcadia Lake nestled in amongst high, monolith-like towers and dark, empty terraces where the doorways gaped like mouths. Mountain Glenn. Not quite the real Mountain Glenn, but Mountain Glenn as it existed in Sunset’s nightmares: the ceiling did not gleam with artificial starlight as it had done; no, in her dreams, it was pure black, casting the whole undercity into darkness. And though they were in the underground, nevertheless, some of what Sunset had seen above the surface had made its way down here: the barricades, the rusted cars, the detritus and debris of the battle to hold the city. The bodies littering the streets. And the sound of a train, rattling on by, a sound that was constant and inescapable. “Whose nightmare is this?” Trixie asked “Mine,” Sunset said. “Sorry about this.” “If you get the answers that you’re looking for from Professor Scrub,” Starlight said, “will we be able to stop this?” “I … think so,” Sunset replied. “I hope so.” She looked down at her hand. She never had gotten around to taking Pyrrha up on that offer to train her semblance. That seemed like a bit of an oversight now. I will remedy it … if I am given time. There was another scream; not a child’s scream, this time, but an adult — man or woman, Sunset could not be sure — but it was coming from somewhere in the village. “Multiple nightmares at once?” Trixie asked. Or else it’s getting stronger, Sunset thought. Strong enough that my nightmares are going after more than just myself. “Starlight, Trixie, Ditzy,” she said, “can you help stave off whatever else there is, protect the village? I think I can stop this, but I need time.” Trixie smirked. “Consider it done,” she said. “Ditzy Doo, consider yourself an honorary member of the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Team Tsunami!” She raised her hand, holding her long, white wand, up to the sky — or the ceiling — above them. “Like a rrrrraging wave, rrrrroll out!” Trixie took off, cape flying behind her, holding onto her hat with one hand to keep it from flying off her head. Ditzy kept pace with her easily, but Starlight hesitated for a moment, lingering in place. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then said nothing. She paused for a moment, and then said, “Get it done, okay?” “I will,” Sunset promised. “Good luck out there.” Starlight nodded, and then turned away, running after Trixie and Ditzy, catching them both up seemingly with no effort at all. Sunset turned away from them, turning in the direction of Professor Scrub’s house by the waterfront, by what had been the waterfront. She drew Soteria. The blade, black as the night, was almost invisible, she could feel the hilt of it in her hands, but she could barely see it held before her — until she touched her gloved fingertips to the cold blade and, with a touch of her aura, ignited the fire dust. The fire swept up and down the sword, igniting like a torch, a light for her in dark places. And this was surely the darkest place that she would ever go. “Sunset?” Sunset gasped. The voice was faint, weak, little more than a mere croak, but at the same time, it was quite unmistakable. Pyrrha lay in the gap between two nearby houses. Miló lay in shattered fragments in front of her, Akoúo̱ was bent and battered and deformed out of its proper shape, mauled by bitemarks as if the beowolves had used it as a frisbee; her red hair was unbound and fell across her body, the red of her hair mingling with the angry red wounds that marred her fair skin. “Pyrrha,” Sunset whispered, her chest rising and falling as her breathing became shallower and more frantic. “Pyrrha, no.” They had ripped through her corset-cuirass, tearing through the leather and exposing — and gashing — her skin underneath; her gloves were torn, her greaves were missing, one of her feet … there was a trail of blood leading away from where her foot should have been. Only her circlet remained intact, unstained by blood, an incongruously pure note amidst so much tarnish. But even the circlet was dimmed; no light reflected off it; it did not shine as it once had. The Evenstar had ceased to burn. Pyrrha’s eyes were large, and tears filled the corners of them as, with one bloody hand, she reached for Sunset. “Sunset … please … help me.” Sunset took a step towards her. Yes, she would help; of course, she would help; she would do whatever she could; she would… She would do what? Sunset stopped, shaking her head. “No. No, you’re not here; you’re not real; this is just a part of the nightmare!” “Sunset,” Pyrrha pleaded, her voice trembled. “Sunset. Please. I need you.” “I’m sorry,” Sunset whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She turned and ran, leaving Pyrrha behind as she ran towards Professor Scrub’s house. That wasn’t really Pyrrha. That wasn’t really Pyrrha. Pyrrha is safe and sound at Beacon, and I have to solve all of this if I want to get back to her, to all of them. She ran on, through the streets of Arcadia Lake, through the streets of Mountain Glenn, her burning sword held before her. The beowolves began to howl, their howls echoing off the dome, echoing off the ceiling of the cavernous city, echoing off the buildings all around her. A few of them tried to intercept her, but Sunset cut them all down with swift strokes of her flaming sword. She cut them down, and she ran on, her feet pounding upon the dark stone. And then she saw him. She saw his sword first, a red sword, as red as the dome that held them prisoner, as red as blood, red like roses, red like death. A red sword, glowing in the darkness. A red sword in the hand of a man with burning red hair and red lines like scars upon his mask. Sunset slowed and skidded to a halt as Adam Taurus stood before her. “No,” Sunset whispered, as her hands began to shake. “No. I killed you. I killed you!” “Yet here I am,” Adam replied. “You’re a little late to save your friends.” Sunset’s eyes widened as she saw … she didn’t know whether they had always been here and she hadn’t noticed or whether the nightmare had only just conjured them for her now, but there they were: Blake and Rainbow Dash. Blake was sitting against the wall of a house, nursing a wound to her stomach, her hand and belly alike covered in blood, staining her waistcoat, overflowing her efforts to staunch it. Her eyes looked weary, as if she could hardly stay awake. Rainbow Dash lay under Adam’s foot, which was planted upon her chest. There was blood around her mouth, and her arms — spread out on either side of her — were unmoving. She scowled, her mouth twisting into a snarl. She let out a wordless growl, before she cried out, “All glory to the Kingdom of—” Adam’s sword swept down and silenced her in a single stroke, a splash of blood. Blake made a choking sound, as if she wished to or were trying to weep but could not. Sunset gasped. She knew that it wasn’t real, she knew that Rainbow wasn’t really dead, but … but to see it so … it shook her nonetheless. Adam looked back at Sunset and pointed at her with his sword that was all the redder for being stained with Rainbow’s lifeblood. That sword, Sunset knew, would bite no less sharply than before for being sprung out of her nightmares. Nevertheless, she raised Soteria. “Come then.” Adam was still for a moment, a wicked grin as sharp as his sword etched upon his features. Then he attacked, his red blade swinging. Sunset parried his first stroke with Soteria, but he was so strong — had he been this strong in life and she had forgotten, or was he stronger because he was a figure of her nightmares? — that the force of his blow jarred her, forcing her back. Adam drew back, then slashed at her again. Sunset turned the blow aside and countered with a downward stroke, but he parried that and turned her blade aside in turn. It left her open, Soteria out of place, her guard broken. He swiped at her faster than she could bring her sword to parry, but Sunset teleported backwards a few feet, putting distance between the two of them. She raised her hand, magic gathering in her palm, but he was faster than she was and raised his scabbard to snap a shot at her. The bullet struck her in the chest, knocking her back, denting her aura. Sunset was hurled back, onto her back, landing heavily upon the road. She rolled to her feet, blasting a bolt of magic at him, but he blocked it with his sword, which absorbed the energy and began to burn an even brighter red in consequence. Adam charged towards her. Sunset rose to her feet to meet him, sword in hand. They met, blades ringing, the black sword wreathed in fire clashing with the red sword stained with blood as they met in a dance of slash and parry, thrust and counterthrust. Sunset was driven backwards, struggling to hold her own, feeling the hideous strength that he possessed reverberating into her bones every time she blocked a stroke of his, feeling the margin by which she was fending him off getting smaller with every parry. She had dreamed of this, night after night, longer even than she had dreamed of Mountain Glenn. He was beating her, as she had always dreamed him beating her. She hadn’t been his equal in life; she was certainly no match for him now he was dead. And the smile on his face told her that he knew it, too. He hacked down her. She parried. He shot her twice with the gun of his scabbard, hitting her in the gut. Sunset staggered back; she would have doubled over were it not for her cuirass, but she left herself open to him nonetheless. He smacked her across the head with the hilt of his sword, knocking her over. Sunset scrambled backwards away from him. Adam advanced upon her, his sword looking almost like a hungry tongue, eager to devour her. He was still smiling as he raised the blade. There was a blur of motion as something — someone — slammed into Adam from the side, decking him across the jaw hard enough to hurl him across the street, sending him rolling along the black, rugged ground of Mountain Glenn. The red sword flew from his hand, skittering across the surface of the underground. They both lay where they stopped, each as silent as the other. “Hey, Sunset,” Ditzy said. “Are you okay?” “Ditzy?” Sunset asked as she scrambled up onto her feet. “What are you doing here? You went with Trixie and Starlight.” “Yeah,” Ditzy agreed. “But then I thought that maybe you could use some help, seeing as how this is your nightmare and all.” Sunset let out a breath. “You weren’t wrong about that,” she admitted. “Thank you.” “No problem!” Ditzy said. “After all, you’re a Canterlot Girl too, right?” Sunset was forestalled in any answer by Adam getting to his feet and recovering his sword. Ditzy took a step forward, her hands up and fists balled. “Go on, Sunset,” she said. “I’ve got this.” Sunset hesitated. “You want me to leave you by yourself?” Adam charged, aiming at Sunset, his blade still shining. Ditzy got in his way. Adam struck at her — the nightmares were definitely growing more powerful; Grayson’s anonymous molester had hardly seemed to notice that Sunset was there, and Clive’s grimm had been just the same — his blade slashing in a wide stroke that would have sliced clean through an oak of many years. But as he slashed, Ditzy leapt up, kicking off the ground, her body twisting in the air with astonishing grace and suppleness of movement, and as the sword swept beneath her, she kicked Adam in the head hard enough to send him flying into the nearest wall. “Go on, Sunset, take care of the problem,” Ditzy urged. “I’ve got this!” Sunset hesitated just a moment more; then, as Adam staggered forwards, she made a break for it. She could see Adam rushing for her, she saw Ditzy charging to meet him like a rival stag in the forest. And then she saw nothing more as she left them both behind. Sunset ran all the way to Professor Scrub’s house, and pounded upon the door with one fist. “Professor!” she yelled. There was no response. Sunset bared her teeth, her equine ears pressing down into her hair as she banged on the door some more. “Professor Scrub, open this door, or I will blast it down!” The door opened, although it was on its chain so it didn’t open that far. Professor Scrub peered at her through the crack in the door. “There’s no need to be like that, my dear, I’m sure,” he said. Sunset glared at him. “Open this door.” “Why should I?” Sunset shoved the door hard enough that the chain snapped and the door itself flew open, sending Professor Scrub staggering backwards into the hallway of his house. Sunset strode in, leaving the door swinging on his hinges. “N-now look here—” Professor Scrub began. “If you look out of that doorway, Professor, you will see that this village is currently being engulfed by nightmares,” Sunset informed him. “'Nightmares'?” Professor Scrub repeated, in his rich, plum, fruity voice. He peered around Sunset, out into the village — and the undercity of Mountain Glenn with which it was merged. “My word, what are all those…?” He walked around Sunset, which she allowed, until he could see sufficiently far out of his house to see the cavernous ceiling that enclosed the world. “Goodness … where … where in Remnant—?” “Mountain Glenn,” Sunset said. Professor Scrub was a pale man, his complexion pasty from spending too much time indoors, but nevertheless, he paled visibly upon hearing that they were stuck in the scene of one of the greatest tragedies of the modern era. “Now,” Sunset said, “I think I know why nightmares are coming to life in Arcadia Lake, or at least I think I know what’s causing it. I think it’s a creature called a tantabus. I think that it’s taken root in Miss Pole’s mind, and that’s why she’s been in a coma. But what I don’t know is how a tantabus, which is not native to Remnant, got here. So I’m going to ask you, Professor, and this time, I’d like you to give me an honest answer: what has been going on in this house?” Professor Scrub was silent for a moment, staring into Sunset’s eyes without speaking. Sunset took a step towards him. “All right, all right,” Professor Scrub declared, holding up one hand as if he were afraid she were going to hit him — she wasn’t; she was a gentlemare, after all, but it was no bad thing if he thought she might. “Alright, I … I’ll tell you everything. It’s … well, let’s just say that at this point, I could probably use your help in any case.” Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “My help?” “Come with me,” Professor Scrub said as he sidled past her — very carefully and with anxiety in his eyes — and led her through his kitchen and into a study, or a sitting room, or some combination of the two. It was very dark, but Sunset could make out two walls lined with bookshelves, said shelves groaned with old leatherbound books with their titles in gold, and the other two walls with tables pressed against them. Upon the tables sat some cages with guinea pigs in them, as well as some more cages which were devoid of guinea pigs, or anything else for that matter; there was a microscope, a computer, and a wooden tray. The tray was of a very dark wood, which lent it a certain impression of age and antiquity, and upon the tray rested several pairs of rings which glowed in the darkness and provided a source of light in the otherwise dimly lit room. Each pair of rings consisted of a yellow ring and a green one, the lights from each ring mingling together as they illuminated their particular corner of the room. Professor Scrub sank into an armchair near the door, clasping his hands together. “You know the truth, don’t you, Miss Shimmer?” Sunset folded her arms. “I know many things, Professor, and some of them might be called true.” “The truth,” Professor Scrub insisted. “That Remnant is not the only world to exist. That there are other worlds out there, waiting for us.” Sunset swallowed. “I … am aware of that, yes. Though I must confess I am surprised that you are.” Professor Scrub smiled. “My great-grandmother was a remarkable woman. That’s her portrait on the wall over there.” Sunset looked. On the wall, above the rings, illuminated by their glow, there was a portrait in a gilded frame, a portrait of a woman, a faunus with equine ears and hair of mixed turquoise and green bound up in a severe bun, with eyes of emerald which stared out of the portrait. “A faunus?” she asked. “I cut my tail regularly,” Professor Scrub explained. “Something of a family tradition. Not that we’re ashamed of what we are, but … why be less than you can be more? In any case, my great-grandmother. People thought she was mad. My own family didn’t like me seeing her, but as she was dying, she confessed the truth to me: that she had come into this world from another place altogether.” “Equestria,” Sunset murmured. She had never thought about the possibility of anyone … well she hadn’t really thought much about visitors to Remnant from Equestria before her, although Professor Ozpin had broached the subject — and done so with an inordinate degree of familiarity in his tone, now that she thought about it, as though his experience were personal, rather than coming from the accounts of his predecessors — but only in terms of monsters and criminals. She had never really thought about ponies, ordinary ponies, crossing from Equestria into Remnant. She had especially not thought about them raising families, although now it seemed obvious that it could have happened. It had happened, apparently, and Professor Scrub was the result. “Exactly!” Professor Scrub exclaimed. “You are initiated, aren’t you, Miss Shimmer?” His eyes widened. “Or is it that you come from Equestria yourself, just as my great-grandmother did?” “Professor, I don’t have time for—” “You must tell me everything; how did you get here, was it an accident, what is it like? I have so many questions—” “Professor!” Sunset barked. “This is hardly the time! Focus, if you will.” Professor Scrub shrank back in his chair. “Yes. Yes, of course. Focus. Focus. My … my great-grandmother told me that she had accidentally found her way from her own world into ours and been unable to find her way back. After a few years of searching, she gave up on ever returning to Equestria, married my great-grandfather, and settled down to have children, including my grandfather, none of whom particularly wanted to hear about other worlds or magic or anything like that. As she was dying, my great-grandmother gave me a wooden box; I could feel by the pricking of my fingers that there was something special about it, something extraordinary. She asked me to burn it, unopened. She made me promise to do so.” “But you didn’t,” Sunset guessed. “Of course not!” Professor Scrub exclaimed. “For all I knew, this was probably a relic from her own land, wood from this place, Equestria. And besides, promises are excellent things for little boys and girls to keep, but great thinkers like myself are no more bound by the common rules of conduct than we are permitted the common pleasures of the world.” He sighed. “Ours is a high and lonely destiny.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “Get to the point, Professor.” “The point, Miss Shimmer, is that I devoted myself to the study of magic,” Professor Scrub declared. “Since you are so impatient, I will not explain to you all of the texts that I read, the fields into which I delved, the places that I visited or the … torments which I suffered.” He shuddered. “Suffice to say that, by the time I dared to open the box that my great-grandmother had given me, I was already a rather knowledgeable theoretical magician.” “And what did you find in the box?” Sunset asked. “Dust,” Professor Scrub replied. “Fine dust. Dust, I believe, that my great-grandmother brought with her from Equestria.” Sunset frowned. Something about this story did not quite add up. Why would any pony be carrying a box of dirt around with them when they happened to ‘accidentally’ end up in another world? How did one accidentally end up in another world, in any case? Nevertheless, she believed that Professor Scrub was telling her what had been told to him; he knew about Equestria from somewhere, after all, and it wouldn’t make sense for him to admit that but to lie about details. Especially since parts of the story didn’t exactly paint him in the best light. “What did you do with the dust?” she asked. “I used it,” Professor Scrub replied. “I thought that it must be possible to make use of this dust that had come from another world to go to that other world, to find out what it was like, where my family had come from. I experimented on those guinea pigs. Some of them died, the others … well, let’s just say my early experiments were unsuccessful until, finally, I was able to craft … the rings. The yellow rings will take you to Equestria, I believe, and then, after pondering the question of how to get back again, I devised a way of doing that as well: the green rings will draw you back. Of course, a man in my time of life, in my state of health, it would be absolutely preposterous for me to travel to another world, to risk the hazards. After all, you might meet anything there. Anything!” “So you sent your nephew and his friend instead,” Sunset said as the pieces fell into place in her mind. “They were very enthusiastic!” Professor Scrub insisted. “Miss Pole especially. She set off first, without even waiting for Malmsey. You see, I wasn’t lying when I told you that I didn’t know what had come over her. I wasn’t there. Malmsey told me that by the time he found her, she was already asleep and wouldn’t wake. He brought her back with him … and apparently, something else came back as well, but I had no idea, I swear. I never wanted this! I only wanted to know! I only wanted my birthright!” “Your birthright?” Sunset repeated. She shook her head in disgust. “If you wanted your birthright, you should have gone to fetch it yourself.” She looked at the rings, glowing in the tray upon the table. She wondered if she ought to destroy them all. Almost certainly, she ought to destroy them all. Passage to Equestria was precious, too precious to be left in the hands of a man like Professor Scrub. And yet … there was a temptation there. A temptation not to destroy them. A temptation to keep at least one pair for herself. Wouldn’t it be grand, not to be bound by the mirror in Canterlot, to be free to come and go as she pleased? She could go home on weekends, have tea with Princess Celestia in the palace, and then be back home in time to do her homework ready for Monday morning. She could visit Twilight Sparkle and help her with her problems as Twilight had helped Sunset with her own. She could show up when Equestria needed her, during the periodic crises that seemed to menace them. She could … she could go home. She could go home without ever leaving Beacon or her friends behind. She could have the very best of both worlds. A blessing she was not worthy of. A gift she desired more than anything. Sunset turned away, neither destroying nor taking the rings, leaving them until she was in a clearer state of mind. She had a job to do right now. She was now more convinced than ever that Plum Pole had somehow encountered a tantabus in Equestria; it must have been a strong tantabus already to have been out and about, to enter someone’s mind like that, but it had done so, and it had travelled back here with its host, and it was already strong enough to affect the waking world. If it got much stronger, it would no longer need a host; it would break free and turn all of Remnant into a living nightmare. She had to stop it. “Thank you, Professor; you’ve been very helpful,” Sunset said. She began to leave. “Wait!” Professor Scrub cried. “You can’t go yet; I told you, I need your help.” Sunset looked over her shoulder. “With what?” she demanded. “Malmsey felt so very guilty over what happened to Miss Pole, he’s been travelling back and forth for days trying to find a cure for her condition,” Professor Scrub explained. “After all, if her ailment came from out of this world, then why shouldn’t a cure be found there too?” “Because a tantabus is not a disease; there is no cure,” Sunset said. “Your nephew has better intentions than you, it seems, but when he returns, tell him that he’s wasting his time.” “But that’s just it, you see,” Professor Scrub said. “Malmsey is well overdue for his return. I’m beginning to fear he may have gotten into a spot of difficulty.”