It took some time to convince the population of Legacy to gather for another council meeting.
Without the fear of extinction, without the advancing army, the bats did not much want to think of danger. Explaining the esoteric risk to themselves if they remained in this world of dream was a losing battle. Most were too practically-minded to care. The island was far larger than their small population could possibly require, with the oceans for many miles rendered peaceful by Mira's reality anchor.
Sometimes the Astral Sea grew calm, and they caught glimpses of elsewhere in the Dreaming—either to entice, or to terrify. Nopony suggested a ship, or some other expedition to fly out and explore. Perhaps that much was for the best. Now that they had no bodies in the waking world, they had no way to wake up if something killed them.
For now, they were temporary residents of the Dreaming, as mortal as any other. In time, they would become permanent denizens.
Few seemed to understand the significance. To them, this Dreaming was another part of Equestria, no more or less real. Its fruit fell ripe and juicy from the vine, its rains were long but not long enough to wash away the soil. The warmth and humidity were both perfectly suited to thestral tastes. Mira had made them that way, back when she still had the knowledge to work the Dreaming like an Alicorn.
Perhaps she had built Legacy too well. Nopony wanted to leave.
Few had friends or relatives outside Legacy—Equestria was not kind to bats who spent too long away from their enclaves. There were no threads to sever among the refugees.
Such welcoming conditions amid warm water and much food did accomplish at least one thing: they gave bats time to study dreamcraft. Time and incentive, since the slumbering discipline would do for them here what unicorn magic could do in the waking world. With it they could alter their environment, protect themselves, and travel rapidly across the Dreaming.
Mira once aspired to teach those disciplines from the head of a classroom, where dozens or hundreds of ponies would listen and learn the secrets of Princess Luna. Now she sat in class with everypony else, listening to Kallisto and Meridian teach things she had done without effort only a short time before.
Not the future she hoped for, exactly—but if some of the ancient knowledge could be preserved, she wouldn't be too proud to study. Her designs for the new city included a huge observatory with a glass ceiling, a temple far grander than anything Understory had ever boasted. It became an important gathering-place, a center of civic life in a world with no more Equestria looming overhead.
The ponies of Legacy didn't seem to fully understand what she had sacrificed—and so were still perfectly willing to treat her as the all-powerful chosen of their beloved princess. With enough reminders of that fact, they would even listen to her long enough for her to organize a council meeting.
Almost a month had passed by then, at least from their perspective. Long enough for ponies to settle into their new homes, to resume some of their old trades, and abandon those that no longer made sense. There would be no guards watching for Equestria to see them, or making sure nopony started a fire before nightfall. Some skills just weren't needed anymore.
The guilds still sent their members—of farming, crafts, and metalworking. Even the guard’s guildmaster, though their inclusion was more a function of tradition when their jobs were defunct. Then there were the dreamwalkers, newest inclusion to the guilds, with Mira at their head. Kallisto deserved that position, but insisted that it should remain with her, so "the living could see to the affairs of the living."
While they still lived, anyway. She brought Starswirl too, though the unicorn had taken to wearing a thin bat illusion most of the time. Anypony with a significant position knew who he really was—but having the archmage of their oppressors walking around town was hardly good for morale.
They opened with incidental subjects, arranging housing and what they would do about rumors of ships coming to their shores heavy with refugees. They discussed how they would store food, and the creation of a new currency. Other things that mattered to a young city state, but escaped Mira's personal notice. She could not do everything, nor did she know better than most of these.
She would count herself fortunate that Understory still had enough skilled bats to build a city, after all of Equestria's efforts to crush them under hoof.
Finally it was her turn to address them—not just on behalf of the guild, but in a more official capacity as the Wakeless Mare. She had still saved the lives of the whole city, even if her namesake no longer meant very much.
"We're safe here," she began, circling atop the stage so she could see them. "I'm thrilled this dream could become our refuge. I'm grateful to all who contributed to my strange requests in the waking world—so much stone craft and precious metals and excavation—you are what made this possible."
She pointed at the floating object behind her—a stone, the exact duplicate of the one she had hidden deep underground. Through sympathy, it was now immutable, impossible to damage in the Dreaming so long as its real self existed. By extension, Legacy would be preserved, untouched by the Astral Sea.
Not forever, but quite a long time. "But you should all know—we haven't won. Equestria is working to wipe out the rest of our tribe. One village at a time, one bat at a time, they're being crushed. We can't stand by and do nothing while they die out."
"We should bring them here, like you brought us," Obsidian said. "Using the magic of our tribe is the key. On this field, even Princess Celestia can be defeated. You already did so once."
When I had power that I gave up, she thought, but didn't say. The last thing she wanted right now was giving them a reason to question her authority. "I can't make a portal like that again," she said. "I used... a powerful gift from the princess. She only gave one, and I spent it to keep you all safe. I can't do it again. But there's another option."
She didn't wait for them to argue, instead waving her new “bat” Starswirl onto the stage. Despite the illusion, he kept the old name. That preserved his authority to those who knew, and sounded decently thestral to those who did not.
"Princess Luna was always your—our advocate in Equestria. She was the first to hear the call from a Dreaming outside Equestria's furthest reaches, and help bats across. Without her to soften Celestia's rage, her policy of quiet, generational extermination will continue. She must be released."
A murmur passed through the crowd. Far more bats had come to this meeting than usually attended boring council functions—maybe it was the safety, or maybe that no pony was hungry anymore. Without constant fear for their lives, they had the luxury of attending to other matters.
"I have discussed with Mira how to accomplish this, and the dangers associated. Fortunately for us, I have intimate knowledge of the spell confining her. It was made with considerable magical power. The Dreaming itself is an infinite reservoir. We must erode that power from within, draw it down year by year, decade by decade, century by century. Until at last, the walls crumble, and we can stretch a thread of sympathy across."
"Century..." Hyacinth, leader of the craftsponies, said. "Perhaps some unicorns live so long, if the stories are true. But no thestral ever did. Our hope was always for eternal memory in dream."
"You're eternal in here," Kallisto said, from the front row. "There's no time in the Dreaming, and also an infinity of it. Everything about what you look like, it's a projection of your mind. A bat can change it at will. Or have it changed for them." She nodded towards Meridian, also sitting in front.
Somehow, his wings didn't seem quite so dark anymore. The light patterns along their edge reminded Mira of Sandy. He looked a little more like them every day, right down to the little tufts of fur emerging from his mane like antennae. Ever since Understory's survival, hope had taken root in him as never before.
The moth seemed to enjoy teasing him about it. Most of the crowd had no idea what Kallisto meant, so just watched in silence.
"We have a paradox," Mira continued. "A very large group would need to work hard to weaken the prison, that's what Starswirl says. But the more we devote ourselves to that labor, the less we can do for the bats of Equestria. What good will it do to save the princess too late for her to help the bats?"
"What should we do?" Obsidian asked. "You've kept us safe this far, Wakeless Mare. Your magic is powerful. But you can't expect us to bear the weight of all Equestria. We're but one village, perhaps a large one. We cannot stand against the Sun Princess in her own domain."
White Spore, the farming guild mare did not wait for her to answer. "The path is obvious. We devote whatever resources we can spare towards freeing our princess. She gave us escape, now we return the gift. The faster we work, the more ponies in Equestria she can save."
It was the simplest path—though it would also keep Legacy in the Dreaming forever. Its population would be immortal, yet mutable. When their bodies were fully made of dream stuff, they could never live in the outside again. Nor would it help any of the ponies already living there.
"I agree that's important—but I would go a little further." She stood up on her hind legs, opening her wings as far as they would go. "Only the dreamwalking magic kept us safe this long. We have to master it—all of you. With study, you could become my equals. We could all travel in and out of Equestria at will, through the minds of sleeping ponies. No Equestrian prison could trap us, because we could effortlessly return again. In body, or in mind."
"To what end?" somepony else asked, from the crowd. She wasn't even sure who. "Equestria hates us. We're safe here!"
"Others aren't," she countered. "Other bats, who could help us. With this magic, we could find their dreams, and teach them while they sleep. Some would join us, others could use their powers to protect their community. Some might build new cities for us to live in, far away from Equestria. Maybe they could flee far enough away that Equestria couldn't follow them, into the Badlands."
She turned away from the crowd, facing the guild masters now. "I know we're all still frightened. Equestria is still out there, still a threat. But we can face them. And once we free our princess, maybe we can live alongside them again."
A long silence settled over the crowd. She sensed their conflict, saw it on their faces. These ponies respected her now, trusted her. She had saved them even when all hope seemed lost. But what she asked wasn't easy. Even if Equestria didn't hunt them directly, traveling in and out would be dangerous. Others looked ashamed, muttering to one another about how others might learn magic, but they never could.
To her surprise, it was Night who finally broke the silence. "Many of you were eager to give offerings or service to the temple. I'm ashamed to say I was not worthy of those gifts. But the bats of Equestria are worthy. Our princess... failed, once. But if I get a second chance, then Princess Luna should too."
Finally, Obsidian stepped forward. "My guild is with you. It seems a... natural use of our talents, and bravery."
"Us as well," said Hyacinth. "Starswirl will doubtless need the assistance of skilled craftsponies to accomplish this. This city is so fine already, there is little for us to do. Perhaps another task will occupy our time."
The city was far from totally united. Several bats turned their back on the council, and vanished into the city in disgust or shame. But most remained. Most would be united in this sacred duty.
Not the way you imagined, Mira thought. But I hope when you see us, you approve, princess.