//------------------------------//
// Chapter 37 
// Story: Beyond the Veil of Sleep 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Mira stumbled to her hooves, shaking herself back to wakefulness as energetically as she could.
Maybe a little too energetically, because Pixie's claws dug into her back, before she went spiraling off her shoulders to the floor, yowling in protest.
"They can't be here already... I had... scouts. There were bats watching. We should have known a day before they got here."
Her memory returned sluggishly at first, but clearer as she spent more time in the waking world. She gave the bats one night to prepare to leave. That meant the strange, stretched time of the Dreaming had been enough to find her target, but not to get further. It couldn't be morning yet, or Nacht would have woken her already.
"Captured, or dead," Nacht answered, bleak. "Have to be. Those scouts were just volunteers. The Golden Army has sorcerers, earth pony shock troops, weather wing..."
He slumped onto his haunches, eyes wide with terror. "There's a dozen stallions at the entrance already. The watch held them back... but only because they gave up. They don't need to fight their way in now. They can wait for the whole army, and there's nowhere for us to go. We're trapped. Maybe they never fight, just sit there for months, until we starve..."
Mira smacked him with her wing, as hard as she could. "We are not going to starve. I told the bats of Understory I was getting them out, and I meant it. Now come with me. We don't know how long they'll leave us alone. We have work to do."
If only sounding confident somehow translated to actually feeling that way. We can't run away if they're following us. They'll know where we go, pick us off as we weaken and run out of supplies. Even if we could fight out the door right now, it won't help.
Mira galloped out the opening, then ascended straight up towards the council platform.
Understory was every bit as consumed by chaos as she expected for an Equestrian attack. Bats peeked out of every home, looking up towards the distant entrance. Many clutched their foals close or clung to bags of meager belongings. Not enough gold or wealth to bribe their way past an army, of course. 
Her home was swallowed in despair.
Despite it all, the most important bats were still right where she expected, gathered on the platform. Even against the terror of imminent death, these stalwart bats remained defiant. They watched her come, expressions ranging from hope to fury, resentment and disdain.
How much of this is my fault? How did they know where to find us?
"Wakeless Mare," some pony said—captain of the watch. He had bandages wrapping around one foreleg, and his makeshift armor now had several missing pieces. "The army is already here. Your promise of escape is frustrated. You've kept us here long enough for Equestria's scouring blade to arrive."
"We will all die," said the farming leader, her head down. "No resistance is possible against the Golden Army. We cannot escape. Perhaps if we surrender to them now, our foals will be spared."
They would keep going like that if she said nothing, a reinforcing cycle of defeat and helplessness. "We will not surrender." Mira landed in the center of the platform, spreading both wings wide. "Mares and stallions, we aren't as trapped as they think. We can still flee."
Laughter answered her from the watch captain, bitter and pained. "Still flee? Are you deaf? A hundred fighting mares and stallions wait overhead. Tens of thousands march behind them and will soon arrive. But it doesn't matter, because we could not fight their scouting party. We held off their advance, but only thanks to the advantage of our cavern. If we were in the open, we would be slaughtered. Do you ask us all to die in a pointless battle?"
"No!" her mind raced, turning over every spell the princess had given her. She could summon objects from the dreaming, even bring over ponies for a short while. But the crew of the Diaspora had only a dozen or so marines—not enough to fight this battle, even if they were willing to try. 
That left only one option. "Bring all the bats down to the temple grounds. Bring only what they can carry, no carts. Instruct your stallions to listen for a signal. When they hear it, they should fly down to the temple as well, and abandon their posts. They must move quickly, I don't know... I don't know how long I can keep it open."
Finally, the terrified whispers faded. Bat eyes watched her, and some showed the first signs of anything other than despair and hopelessness. Could they still believe in her, even after so many setbacks and failures?
"The temple is deeper, Mira..." said Hyacinth. "If we go that far, and the army presses down on us, we would be fighting uphill. The slaughter would be even greater."
She shrugged both wings. "As you say—if it comes to that, we're dead anyway. But I don't plan on dying today. Just get everyone down there. We will not hide; we won't retreat into tunnels and pray for relief. Princess Luna's magic will get us out. The princess won't leave her foals to die."
She didn't stay to convince them—let the guards worry about that. And if anypony didn't believe, they could always surrender to the Golden Army and pray for mercy.
Mira's plans were somewhat more practical.
She cut through the cavern, flying straight down towards the temple. Bats pointed and whispered as she passed. Many filled with anger, though many others were too overwhelmed to unify into anything so clear. 
Nacht joined her in the air, matching her speed. "You sure about this, Mira? If we held the entrance, we could last weeks, maybe months. Maybe other bats would come to help us."
She landed in the temple grounds, then threw the doors open. "Paint, now! Night, where are you?"
Night, as it turned out, was hiding in a corner, with saddlebags filled with coins, offerings, and precious metals. Her traveling cloak was so dark, it might be enchanted. Even Mira's bat eyes missed her at first.
"You." She gestured sharply, out at the open courtyard. "Bring me the paint we used for the murals. Right now, or everypony dies."
The bat stumbled forward out of the shadow, head low and ears swept back. "They're dead already. This was always... inevitable. Bats can't grow too proud. You were the proudest of all, Wakeless Mare. If you slept forever, the princess would not have noticed us."
Mira bared her teeth, advancing on the bat like she might just rip her apart with her bare hooves. "I don't have time for this now, Night! Betray us if you want, run if you want. But bring me the paint first. Do it right now, and you have my leave to go. Take all the gold with you. Just do this last task for me. As much as you can carry."
She turned back to the stallion. "Help me clear the pews away. The gate will be strongest if we open it under the moonlight."
"You aren't a unicorn," he argued. Still, he followed, and started shoving heavy benches aside with her. "You don't have their powers. You can't open a teleport. Not for you, not for thousands of bats."
"You're right, I can't. But we don't need to."
Finally, she had a patch of clear ground to work with. Night returned, settling a few heavy pots overflowing with black, white, and blue paint. She tossed a few brushes down too, defiant. "I would give the Golden Army your head. If I thought it would do anything. You deserve to die, not all these bats."
Mira took the brush, then selected the black paint, and soaked it. Some of it splashed onto her coat as she worked, dabbing around her mouth. But she didn't care. "If you did that, they would all die. I'm the only pony here with... a way out."
She said nothing as she worked, drawing as quickly as she could. She drew a perfect circle at the center, then the same patterns of runes used for a kind of dreamcraft not even the princess used often. If Kallisto were here, she would be screaming at Mira to stop—warning her of the cost, the damage it might cause, and the sacrifice these bats would make.
But if Kallisto had gotten her way, Mira would never have seen the Dreaming again. She would fall into line beside the other bats, slowly wiped out by Celestia's evil plan. Her foals would grow in terror and some of them would probably grow up stunted by malnutrition like her. Or maybe they would starve before that.
A crowd of bats formed in the temple courtyard, landing with light footfalls on the dirt. Some poked inside, but Nacht kept them back. They could still watch, crowding while she worked, whispering to each other about how doomed this all was.
"You need to power it somehow," Pixie said, pointing at the edge. "How are you going to get it open?
Mira ignored the question, working the rest of the way around with her circle of rune markings. Fortunately for her, this magic was much simpler than the anchor or reshaping the old dream. She didn't need to remake the world, and the changes didn't have to last. 
This was only a door, waiting to be opened.
Finally, she joined Pixie by the clause at the top of the circle, the cornerstone of her magical arch. Opening a door for herself—she could probably do that using the magic in her own body. Maybe she could move a few bats through, given she had weeks of practice to hone her powers and train her endurance. 
But there were thousands of bats in Understory, along with all the objects and possessions they would not leave behind. Whatever latent power she could sap from each bat passing through would help keep the door open a little longer, but it would never open it.
"Something from you too," Mira said. "Your half, and mine."
The cat pawed at the edge of her markings, spreading black paint up her leg. "I don't mind. Knowing all this was... confusing. But if you give it up... what happens to your mission? You wanted to save your bats."
She shrugged. "I have the lessons I wrote for teaching new bats. And we have Kallisto. That's gonna have to be enough."
Mira wasn't alone in the church. Night was still there, watching from the wall. Her face was unreadable, beyond general skepticism and doubt. "This was your plan? A little more worship? The Mare in the Moon can't save us. She abandoned us a long, long time ago."
"Nacht!" Mira yelled, urgent. "Get back here!"
He backed away through the entrance. As he did, bats pressed into the doorway. They moved slowly at first, keeping their distance from her. But without anyone to hold them back, they would soon be stamping over the whole space, spoiling Mira's diagram.
"What is it? Is it not working?"
"It's not on yet." She touched his shoulder, spreading a little paint as she did so. "When I do this... I won't be able to help anymore. Make sure somepony gets me through to the other side. But move me last—I'm the one holding the door open. When I go, the door will close behind me. Understand?"
"I don't see a door," he argued. "Are you sure... are you sure about any of this? Should we just surrender? We can. There's no shame. We fought as hard as we could."
Her wings sagged against her sides. "I guess that's kinda what this is. But it's the kind of surrender where no one else gets killed by the Golden Army."
"At least you know how to stick to a story," Night said. "Nightmare's Chosen, until the very end."
"I don't think Nightmare Moon chose me," she said. "But maybe Princess Luna did. I guess we'll see."
She lowered her hoof to the circle marked on her diagram. Pixie touched a paw beside it.
A knife of pain lanced into Mira's skull, silencing all rational thought. She screamed and tried to pull reflexively away. But she couldn't anymore—the hoof was pressed down, glued by force far beyond her control.
Beside her, the gate's center crumbled away, huge chunks of stone ripped through as though they were loose sand. They landed in the grass, under the shade of jungle trees.
Mira wobbled, then collapsed to the floor. One hoof remained in place, held there by the spell. The pain now burned so powerfully that tears blurred her vision, and only vague outlines remained. Nacht standing over her, shouting, urging ponies forward.
Then everything went black.