"I still don't like it…" Spike grumbled, crossing his arms in point.
"It'll be fine, Spike. I promise," Twilight told him one more time. On a stand in front of her, a book sat closed, a relatively small one compared to her usual fair: a foal's book, designed to help teach reading. She closed her eyes, controlled her breathing, and began the mental preparations for her latest attempt at a new spell.
Designed to allow the user to capture, sort, and absorb the information from a book or scroll, the spell required copious amounts of focus and processing power to work properly. Or at least, she assumed it did. In theory, it did.
A light encompassed her horn, then reached out and swallowed the book on the stand; her brow tensed under the strain for a few seconds, half a minute, a minute until finally her eyes popped open with a deep breath. The light dissipated, and she stood silent for a moment, eyes darting to and fro, scanning invisible somethings—data. They stopped with a blink, and she sat with a sigh.
"No good, huh?" asked Spike.
She held her head in her hooves, rubbing her temples. "It's just… Ugh…"
Spike approached her from behind and put a scaly hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
Twilight took another deep breath, then let it out slowly, very slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
"Look, Twilight, I told you: If it doesn't work, you shouldn't keep—"
"But it does work, Spike. It does," she insisted, clearly arguing with herself as much as her assistant. "It just… I don't know… It's like trying to sort through the bombardment of information ends up in this…sensory overload, or something."
"Bombardment? I thought it wasn't insti…instinct…"
"Instantaneous. And it's not. Or at least, it shouldn't be. It's not supposed to be, but the amount of micro-micro management involved is just… Once any kind of information starts coming in at all, the attention I have to divert to absorbing it, to making sense of it is too much. I lose focus on maintaining the spell itself. The rate of acquisition slips and snowballs, and suddenly everything's coming in faster than I keep up and I can't stop it. I actually think if it were instantaneous it might be easier."
"So…do that then," Spike offered proudly––there, problem solved.
Twilight just shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to try. Instantaneous acquisition has been the holy grail of a lot of magical scholars, better than me."
"Aw, nopony's better than you, Twilight."
Twilight smiled at him. "Thanks, Spike."
Spike glanced at the book. "So…you gonna try again? You want me to maybe get a smaller book?"
Twilight got up and stretched, deciding 46 tries was her limit for the time being. "Not right now. I'll try again tomorrow. I think I'll go for a walk, stretch my legs a little. I have been inside all day."
"You sure? It's almost dark," Spike noted.
"I know. At least it'll be cooler." She trotted up to the door.
"Okay then… How long will you be gone? Should I wait up?"
Twilight giggled as she stepped outside. "That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"Are you tired?"
Spike shrugged. "Kinda. Watching you work all day really takes it outta me."
"Well then go to bed, silly."
Spike raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms again.
"Goodnight, Spike." Twilight smiled again and closed the door after her.
After one good huff, Spike waved it off.
Owlowicious adjusted himself on his perch. "Hoo."
"Didn't ask you," Spike quipped, on his way upstairs.
Outside, Twilight strolled along at the pace of a pony with no particular place to be, just out enjoying the evening as the sun sank slowly in the west and painted the sky in watercolor shades of orange and red. A light breeze blew over her and brushed gently against her mane; she breathed it in.
She walked, past the homes and the buildings which grew sparser and sparser, until finally she found herself on the edge of town. She walked for a while more, then made her way up a small hill far from Ponyville and lay down on the cool grass, legs tucked in and tail wrapped neatly around, watching the sky and waiting for the night to come so maybe she could enjoy some constellations.
Peace.
Quiet.
Calm.
Little pleasures.
And then, her ears pricked up at a noise––one at first, then a few more––a twingy, twangy kind of noise from the side of the hill opposite the way she'd come. Curious, she got up to check it out and found a tent pitched down where the ground leveled out flat. She wandered over.
The soft, quiet melody of a guitar from the other side of the tent grew louder as she got closer. It calmed her somehow, the hopeful sound of it, and made her smile in kind. Then came a familiar voice, and she stopped to listen rather than risk giving herself away.
Obviously under the impression she was totally alone, Applejack spent the next few minutes singing her song and pleasantly surprising Twilight where she stood listening in. The song told the story of a little colt practicing baseball alone, imagining himself in the last inning, best of the best with the game on the line, tossing the ball up and swinging as it came down; three times he tossed it, three times he swung with all his hope and might, and three times he missed. The song ended as the colt, rather than get discouraged at striking out, praised himself for pitching so well. The pace and lyrics fit Applejack's accent like a silk glove.
When the song finished, Twilight got closer. She poked her head around the tent, and Applejack sat up a bit, startled.
"H-Howdy there, Twi. What brings you out to these here parts?" Applejack seemed to briefly consider hiding her guitar, only to realize she had nowhere to go with it.
"Applejack, I didn't know you could play––and sing! Come to think of it, there was that one time..." Twilight moved closer into Applejack's makeshift campsite, complete with logs for seats and a small fire pit.
"Well, now look, Twilight, truth is I didn't know you was out there listenin'. Plenty of ponies in the Apple family play the fiddle for get-togethers and such, but as for this, it... Well it ain't exactly somethin' I like to go advertisin', if'n ya know what I mean. Kinda just…somethin' for me, ya know? Personal."
Twilight smiled reassuringly. "I understand."
"So if you could do me a favor and maybe…ya know…not go tellin' nopony?"
"I won't."
Applejack smiled. "Thanks, Twi."
"Sure. It's a shame, though. You have a great voice, and you play really well. It sounded really good."
Applejack seemed to laugh, adjusting her hat a bit; she pulled her guitar over her lap again and let her hoof drift down over the strings, one at a time. A sprig of wheat hung from her mouth. She chewed it idly once, switching it from one side of her mouth to the other. "Well, thankee kindly, but songs like that there one ain't really meant to be difficult."
"What are they meant for?"
Applejack looked up with a grin and a quick wink. "To sound good."
Twilight chuckled.
"So what are you doin' out here, Twilight?"
"Taking a walk," she said innocently.
Applejack looked up again. "A walk?"
"Mm-hm."
"Mite far for a walk, ain't it?" Applejack craned her neck around to look at the glow of Ponyville in the distance. "We ain't exactly close to home out here, sugarcube."
"It's nice to get away," said Twilight.
Applejack couldn't help but chuckle, forced to agree. "It is that."
"Plus, if you want to really see any stars, first you have to get away from all the lights."
"Stars, huh?"
"Yup. You don't like them?"
"Oh no, I do. Surely I do. Truth be told, I look at 'em myself from time to time. Hard not to, out here like this."
"Really? Do you know any constellations?" Twilight jumped at the chance.
Applejack thought for a second. "North star," she said, all she could come up with. "Does that count?"
Twilight giggled. "Do you come out here a lot?"
"Now and again, when I find the time. We're ahead for the season, so I thought I'd go ahead and treat myself, do a little campin'."
"Oh my, Applejack. Pampering yourself? Careful. I might have to tell Rarity."
Applejack laughed once. "You go right ahead, darlin'. And you tell Miss Rarity she's more than welcome to come out here and join me in pamperin' myself anytime she feels like."
Twilight saw the farm pony reach behind her log and emerge with a jug of something.
"Sip?" Applejack asked.
"What is it?"
"Apple family cider," she said proudly; she shook the jug a bit, offering it.
"Cider? But I thought you sold out every—"
The corner of Applejack's mouth curved up into a sly smile. "Private stock."
"Oh really? What's the occasion?"
"Well now, what's pamperin' without Apple family cider?" Applejack winked again.
Twilight graciously took the jug, but then stopped and put two and two together––the half empty jug and the single opening. She looked squeamishly at Applejack. "Did you…happen to…?"
"'Fraid so, sugarcube. As you may've noticed, I…weren't exactly expectin' company. Sorry."
"No, don't worry about it." Twilight stared at the jug a moment more before summoning her conviction, putting the glass spout to her lips, and taking a swig; the cider hit her tongue, and she cheered right up.
Another swallow or two and she traded the jug back to a pleased Applejack, who took a swig herself.
"Thanks," said Twilight.
"Absolutely. One very important thing about this here cider: It tastes even better when you're sharin' it with friends."
They sat together, and eventually, after some initial embarrassment, Applejack played again. She even sang—trail songs, as she called them, some of them new, passed around at reunions, others old and passed down in the family since nopony knew when.
Once the sun went down, Applejack stopped playing and lit her campfire. She sat down again after. "So, how was it? Seein' as you're just about the only pony's ever heard it, reckon I oughtta at least ask your thoughts."
"It was good," Twilight said, stuck for words. "It's just... It's... I mean, does it always have to sound so sad?"
"Sad?" Applejack nearly laughed.
"Well, yeah...kinda..." Twilight said sheepishly.
Applejack hung her head and scratched underneath her hat. "Well, shoot. No, I... I reckon it don't, sugarcube." She gave a heavy sigh. "I reckon it don't..."
Twilight sensed something amiss. "Is everything...all right, Applejack?"
"Yeah, it—" Applejack started but stopped. "Consarn it, no. No it ain't all right."
A look of concern came over Twilight. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. No, nothin' happened. I mean yes it did, but— I mean nothin'...nothin' happened, if'n that's what ya mean. Nothin' bad."
"So what...?"
"Well, okay." Applejack cleared her head and detailed the events calmly. "We's at home. Apple Bloom starts askin' Granny about the zap apples again—I don't know why—so Granny gets out her scrapbook and starts showin' her pictures and such. Then of course Apple Bloom starts askin' about some of them other ponies in the pictures, so Granny gets out her reunion scrapbook to tell her more and..."
"And?"
Applejack seemed to think, like she was trying to put together how to say it. "I..." she got out one syllable before stopping and shaking her head once, like she just couldn't rightly get it out.
"Applejack? It's okay. Talk to me."
Applejack looked at her with a stern, trouble look, closed her eyes with another deep breath, and finally just let the words come. "Every time I look at them scrapbooks, every time I see her there in them pictures—"
"Granny."
Applejack nodded, otherwise uninterrupted. "All bright and youthful like, and I look at her lookin' at them pictures, smilin' that smile, hoof tremblin' to turn the page while she talks about her life, I just... Her life, Twi. Her whole life, and she just... And I wonder, I look at the filly smilin' there in them pictures, mane all done up, and I wonder if she ever... Did she ever think about...?"
"Being old?"
"Consarn it!" Applejack kicked the dirt, at a loss for how she felt or why. "I mean, does it scare her? Does she think about it? Did she think about it back then when they was takin' them pictures, that one day she'd be sittin' and lookin' at 'em and just... Nothing left to do but...but wait for...wait to... I can't even look at 'em no more. I can't even look at them pictures, seein' her then and seein' her now and..."
Twilight's eyes softened, and she moved to sit beside her friend. "Applejack, is this really about pictures?"
Applejack's muscles relaxed. "No." Her shoulders fell, and she took off her hat and shook her head, holding her hat close for comfort. "Every day it's worse, Twi. Every day somethin' else, somethin' new: takin' longer to get places, goin' into rooms and not knowin' why, forgettin' things. I used to love it when she showed me them pictures, my face light up just like Apple Bloom's, but now I...every time I see her, I..."
"You worry how many more times she'll be there...to show them..."
Tears welled up in Applejack's eyes, though she concealed them masterfully. "A few weeks back, I hear something round about midnight, ya know? So I get myself up, I go downstairs and she's there, cookin' in the kitchen, askin' my momma to 'Hurry up with them eggs'. Last night I find her all dolled up waitin' down in the livin' room. I tell her to come up to bed, and she fights me every step of the way, arguin' with me she's got to be ready, got to be waitin' for her date when he shows up. Her date, Twi. My grandpappy. He's... Since before I's born, he's..." Unable to stop herself, she let out a sniffle and started to tremble, presumably crying, hiding behind her hat. "Oh... What am I supposed to do...?"
Twilight put a foreleg around Applejack and pulled her closer, ignoring how awkward it felt—Applejack, the rock, the plow-pulling, apple-bucking unshakable voice of reason herself, reduced to tears. "You...do the best you can, Applejack," she offered, the best advice she could really give. "You be there for her. Help her. Take care of her like she took care of you and all the other ponies in her life. Now it's... Now it's her turn."
"What if it gets worse?" Applejack's voice mumbled miserably from behind her hat, broken through by another short, restrained sob.
"Then it does," said Twilight. "And we'll...cross that bridge when we come to it..."
"We...?"
"Well, you know what I— I mean of course I'll do everything I can to—" Twilight stopped when she thought she felt Applejack laugh a bit.
"I know." Applejack sniffle-laughed again, getting out from under Twilight with a sniffle. She wiped her eyes and let out a long breath, like she couldn't believe the state she was in. "Land sakes, Twi, I truly am sorry. Here ya come all the way out here to get away from whatever it is ya come to get away from, and what do I do? Sure as shootin', I go and pull ya into what I come out here to get away from. Best friend in all of Equestria right here, ain't it the truth." She seemed to recover, or at least to get a good start on it.
"Applejack, I asked. I wanted you to tell me what was wrong—"
"Past tense," Applejack pointed out jokingly.
"Want you to tell me what's wrong because I want to help you, because you're my friend. Do you… Are you okay?"
Applejack nodded slowly. "Reckon it did help, tellin' somepony, gettin' it out like that the way I did."
"You're always right there when we need somepony to talk to. The least we can do is be there for you, too."
"Thanks, Twi. Although I...I truly am sorry about all that."
"A—"
"I know you're gonna tell I don't need to be sorry, that it's part of bein' a friend to be there when a friend needs somepony to be there. I know that. Believe me, I do. Just the same, I am, and I need you to know that. Square?"
"Square." Twilight smiled.
"Okay then. Hoo-wee." Applejack gave an awkward laugh, fanning herself with her hat a few times before putting it back on.
"Will you be all right?"
"I reckon," Applejack admitted. "It is life, after all. Ain't no way round it 'cept to...push on through." She leaned back, looking up at the night sky. "But starin' death in the face… Can't put it off no more, can't ignore it, keep pretendin' like it ain't there and ain't ever gonna be, it's… Well it's heavier than a cartful of apples, anyhow. Sometimes ya just need to…like ya just gotta—"
"Get away?"
"Yes, ma'am..."
They were quiet for a while, then got back to topics of idle conversation as the subject of Granny Smith slipped slowly to the backs of their minds as such subjects tended to do—lingering there behind everything else, every other thought and schedule and chuckle, too powerful, too terrible to be allowed any more than that: coping, a natural mechanism by which an inherently fragile mind might come to terms with a reality so cripplingly terrifying that it otherwise couldn't even be acknowledged. Life, as Applejack had called it.
Front or not, Applejack gradually returned to her usual self, while Twilight likewise did her best not to dwell on the sad truth she knew still haunted her friend behind the smile.
Time passed, until their conversation found its beginning.
"So what was it made ya come all the way out here, anyhow?" asked Applejack.
Twilight went about explaining her latest project, sparing Applejack the finer details.
"So…ya'll are tryin' to read without readin'? That about right?"
"Not ya'll, just me. And not without reading, just reading faster," said Twilight.
"And what, may I ask, would ya wanna go and do a thing like that for? Don't ya read fast enough already?"
"No! Don't you see?" Twilight said excitedly. "Normal reading is limited physically, by the muscles and the speed of the eyes––even photo-reading."
"And this spell of yours ain't?"
"No, not at all! I mean, in theory… Theoretically, the only constraints are the limits of the mind, the number of thought processes it can handle while still maintaining enough focus to keep control of the spell and the acquisition rate. But even that, if somepony were proficient enough in the spell, practiced it enough, controlling the acquisition rate could become something like muscle memory, something that didn't require any attention at all, so the entirety of mental processing power could be devoted wholly to analyzing, sorting, and absorbing the new information––which in turn would only raise the cap of functional acquisition." Twilight stopped herself, remembering to breathe; she cleared her throat and gathered her composure. "In theory."
Applejack just stared at her; slowly, an eyebrow rose. "Uh-huh. Pardon my ignorance, but again: What exactly would ya wanna go and do a thing like that for?"
"Think of it, Applejack! Whole libraries absorbed in the time it would take to read a newspaper, and not just…not just skimmed but understood, completely internalized and integrated into existing knowledge and schemata, fit into place and…and…" She stopped again when she noticed Applejack failed to reciprocate her excitement. Quite the opposite, in fact. For a moment, she thought to compare it to poofing whole orchards into storage rather than spending weeks and months bucking trees, but a quick reminder of how much Applejack valued hard work over things like magic held her tongue. Making that comparison probably would've just dug her a deeper hole.
Luckily, Applejack put on a smile and gave her an out before she had to think of something else to say. "Well shoot, sugarcube. If it makes you happy, I'm all for it. Just…take it easy, all right? Ya got somethin' of a tendency to go a mite…overboard…sometimes when yer eyes get that look in 'em."
"What look?"
"That look," said Applejack.
Twilight blinked. She had a look?
Applejack chuckled. "I'm gonna go gather me some more firewood."
Twilight looked up at the moon and gauged the time. "I should probably be getting back, myself. I didn't realize how late it was."
"Time flies." Applejack got up and stretched. "Sure I can't convince ya to stay? Can't say's I'm not enjoyin' the company. Soon time to get out my harmonica…"
Twilight considered with a smile. "Tempting…but I better get back. I told him not to, but Spike may have stayed up and I wouldn't want to worry him."
"All right then." Applejack trotted off a bit, stopped, and looked back. "Twi."
Twilight looked up from brushing off some barky remnants.
"Thanks. For listenin'. I do appreciate it."
"Anytime. And I do mean that, you know. Don't be afraid to talk to me, or any of the girls. We all care about you. We want to be there for you."
"I know. Uh…just the same…if ya could do me one more favor and not tell nopony what we talked about… Private business and such."
"Of course, Applejack."
"Thanks. Meet for lunch tomorrow, at the library? I should be comin' back through town about then."
"Sure."
"All right. I'll see ya tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow."
They parted, Applejack off one way for her firewood and Twilight the other headed for home.
An hour or so later, she arrived at the library––lights out, she noticed––cracked the door, and peeked inside.
Dark.
She smiled to herself; he had gone to bed after all.
She trotted quietly inside, closed the door after her, and got cleaned up. About to go to bed, she stopped at the urge to give her spell one more try before officially calling it a night.
She made her way downstairs and found the book from earlier still resting neatly on its stand; she positioned herself in front of it, closed her eyes, and tuned her breathing. Prepared, she let her focus flow through her horn and reach out to the book.
Her aura consumed the book, permeating it, thoroughly saturating each page and drawing the contents into her; the first bits of information breached her mind, a tiny needle piercing through, small at the point but…pushing…wider and wider the longer she continued…threatening to pull through more thread at once than she could handle, to tear the same hole it always had before and spiral out of her control. She pruned it back, raveling it as it came in, steadying it, smoothing it…
Then she reached the end.
Before she even realized it, the stream of data ended; the last bit of thread came through and raveled into place, but the hole remained open. Her link hadn't disconnected. The data stopped, but something else surged in––instantly, flooded her mind––a torrent of…light and...and sound that crashed into her head-on and bowled her over like a wave at the beach, tossed her around like a rag doll and knocked her into a daze.
Her vision went black, in her ears a constant, high frequency squeal, her body numb, just for a second before the connection destabilized and severed.
She sat there afterward, eyes locked forward into a distance far greater than the library wall should've allowed while the squealing in her ears subsided and her brain and subsidiary senses rebooted. Then she breathed, just once. Then again. Then the sound died off completely; she became aware again, back to normal. Well, normal enough to spin the wheels in her head trying to figure out what had happened.
Nothing had...gone wrong, exactly. The spell had worked perfectly, flawlessly. But then at the end, right when logically it should've terminated, something else...had... Something extra. Something...
Something.
She tried to remember exactly what had happened, and a sharp, momentary pain caused her to shut her eyes and cringe. Almost like it...like it was too...hard. Not difficult hard, scientific hard—hardness hard, like whatever it was, she...couldn't crack it, couldn't scratch it or break it apart to figure it out: a knot pulled too tight, or a jawbreaker she kept biting down on every time she tried to remember.
Putting it aside for now—maybe she would have better luck after some sleep and a little downtime to let it soak and soften up—she decided to clock out for the night. Still puzzled, she retreated upstairs to her bed and, eventually, to sleep.
* * *
Twilight sat alone at a desk in a shoebox apartment furnished otherwise only with a bed and a table. An unfamiliar green glow levitated a brush and dipped it into a cup of paint before going to work on the page in front of her. Strangely removed from herself, she watched the brush paint some basic scenery and a colt on one page, then the same colt running on the next page, then smiling and running faster on the next. On the next few pages, she painted the colt, the colt with a ball, the colt bouncing the ball…
After a while, she rose from her seat against her will, poured a glass of water, and drank it. She sighed, then went back to work. Images of an unfamiliar pony came to mind, the thought of rent, a slew of worries so jumbled she couldn't distinguish between them…
Back at the desk, she printed words in the book: See the colt. See the colt run. Run, colt, run!
A shining light tore a hole in space; Princess Luna emerged.
Suddenly, Twilight found herself able to move, torn from the body to which she'd been inexplicably glued a moment before. She stepped back, looked, and saw a green stallion working tiredly at the desk. Then she turned to Princess Luna, but even there, something seemed off. The lids of her eyes hung halfway closed––disinterested, unconcerned, without feeling.
Twilight shook her head, unable to figure out any of it. "Princess Luna, what's going on?" she asked finally.
"Dost thou not understand?"
Twilight thought harder; an idea clicked. "Am I…dreaming?"
"Indeed. Thou art asleep."
Twilight furrowed her brow at the princess. "Then…are you…?"
"We are real. Real enough. We are the keeper of the night. As such, our duties extend even to the dreams of our…subjects."
Twilight detected a hesitation, a pause before that last word.
"Tell us, student of our sister: How didst thou come to be in this place?"
Twilight went on to detail her latest experiment to the princess, her failures and her apparent, if not unusual, success before she'd gone to bed.
Luna contemplated a moment. "These are powerful magics, Twilight Sparkle. Dost thou understand where thou art?"
Twilight took a few moments to put the pieces together: the book she'd used in her tests, the book the stallion sat drawing on the desk; it became apparent when the realization donned on her.
Luna noticed. "Correct. Thou art in the mind of another––or more precisely, the memories attached to the tome whose knowledge thou didst siphon."
Twilight's ears splayed back and down, and she shrank before the princess in a panic. "I-I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't— I mean I never meant to—"
"Calm, child. Thou hast committed no wrong. We wish only to impress upon thee the gravity of the forces with which thou toyest, though thou art fully within thy sphere to do so––indeed, expected to do so, given thy weight and position."
Twilight's eyes darted to and fro a few times, trying to process whatever that meant. She looked up, unsure of her response. "Thank…you…?"
"Thank us not. We do only our duty––what little doth remain of't to be done. Dost thou comprehend the implications of thy studies in these matters?"
"You mean…assisted acquisition?"
Luna's head bowed in a slow, ever-so-slight nod, reminiscent of a judge. Its weight fell down upon Twilight in glaring contradiction to the princess's assurance to be calm.
A pressure settled into her chest, heart beating faster, a tenseness in her stomach, and Twilight tried to put together an answer she could say comfortably. But in the end, between her relative inexperience with the spell––and certainly these new facets of it––and the uneasiness in Luna's presence that she couldn't seem to shake, nothing came out; she turned her eyes up at Luna, realizing only after that she'd winced, like she feared being struck.
"Dost thou know how many of thy kin hath sought it before thee?"
Twilight bowed her head. "Y-Yes, Princess. Well not— I mean I don't know the number exactly, but I know it's…a lot."
"Indeed 'tis. Dost thou know how many succeeded even as far as thou hast here?"
No answer, Twilight looked up humbly—fearfully almost, as though on trial and expecting the gavel to come down.
Luna's gaze fell upon her. "Few."
Twilight averted her eyes again.
"It taketh remarkable skill to accomplish that which thou hast here, Twilight Sparkle, prized pupil of our sister, and a still more remarkable affinity to the mystic arts. An admirable feat, managed by less than could fill seats at table yonder. A craftsman leaveth his mark upon his work, be it tome or sculpture, tool or dwelling. Didst thou believe thy spell read the tome?"
Twilight considered, thinking quickly. It…had felt like reading, at least on her end, from her perspective, but…she supposed logically the spell couldn't have actually been reading words, per se. Although she hadn't really considered that before, hadn't even thought about it, since to her it had seemed like it…
"It doth not read, but siphons––touches upon and probes the essence of the object itself, not merely its knowledge, but its soul…its memory…a window into the heart and mind of its maker. We create nothing without imbuing in't a part of us. Thou understandst now, yes? The true depth of the sea whose waters thou hast tested this night?"
Twilight's heart raced, partly because it felt like she was being reprimanded or warned and partly because she really did get it, really did grasp it, the reality of it.
"Thy spell is not new. However, thou seest the reason why thou shalt not find it scrawled on any scrap of parchment. Its responsibility is not a thing to be taken lightly."
Briefly, the thought occurred to her to question why not write it down then, to warn ponies, but the forbidden fruit effect answered her quickly enough.
"Our sister doth place great faith in thee, as do we. We trust thou wilt honor this responsibility."
"I will, Princess," Twilight said respectfully, not sure yet whether or not she would even continue with her experiments in light of everything she'd just learned.
Luna nodded in acknowledgment. "Farewell then, Twilight Sparkle. Take care."
A ribbon of light tore open a new hole in space, and Luna turned to exit through it.
Intuition urged Twilight not to let her leave, finally breaking her free of her fear; she spoke up. "Princess!"
Luna stopped and looked over her shoulder.
Suddenly on the spot, Twilight realized she hadn't really...planned out anything to say. She quickly threw something together. "P— Um... Pardon my asking, Princess, but...is there something...wrong?"
Luna met eyes with her briefly, then turned forward and started walking; something about her demeanor beckoned Twilight to follow, so she did. Through the hole, they entered a black space; they somehow stood out against it, perfectly visible, and stood firmly although she failed to see what exactly they were standing on; it was all just black.
"Princess?" Twilight asked, taking in their new surroundings. "Where--?"
"Nowhere," said Luna. "The space in between, the astral abyss. From here we may sense the dreams of our subjects." She stopped, eyes forward, listening, seeing.
Twilight's brow rose. "All of them? At once?"
Another slight, slow nod. "Tell us, Twilight Sparkle: What is thy purpose?"
The question struck Twilight strangely. "Purpose, Princess?"
"The reason for thy being."
Twilight blinked a few times, blown away. How in Equestria was she supposed to answer that?
"Is't...knowledge? The pursuit of it? Or perhaps learning? Thou art indeed studious. Thou art gifted. Thou holdst a place of esteem amongst thy peers."
Not sure how or even if she should reply, Twilight remained silent.
"Clearly, even if thou dost not know't, thou dost serve some mortal purpose, or will someday. Thou wilt leave thy mark upon Equestria and, in that way, achieve some small amount of immortality in the minds of those who will follow thee and study thy works as thou studiest. Immortality...can there be any greater goal for a finite creature? Thou wilt achieve it. We are certain."
Silence.
"But then...what should be the purpose of one who is beyond such things, who is immortal?"
Oh dear.
Now Twilight interjected. "You raise the moon, Princess. You—"
"Thou mayest cook for thy family at thy mother's behest, but if thou didst not, would not thy mother still feed them?"
Twilight shook her head some, confused.
"For one thousand years, our sister raised our moon, and haveth now no reason to stop—except to offer us the responsibility, to bequeath to us a pet for which she could just as easily care."
Unable to argue, Twilight grasped for another straw. "You safeguard the dreams of—"
"Watch. We watch the dreams of our subjects, and occasionally intercede, though more for our benefit than those who we profess to assist—evenst thou, Twilight Sparkle. In time, thou wouldst have unraveled the truth of thy spell, without our interference. We swat flies that would as easily die of old age, that we might placate ourselves with some illusionary purpose. There was a time...when we did more..." Luna seemed to reminisce.
Listening intently, Twilight waited for her to continue; the empty moan of the abyss filled her ears in the interim.
"Prithee, what knowest thou of...nightmares?"
Unnerved by the nature of the question, given the asker, Twilight scrolled through her mental files and delivered the scientific definition of nightmare, in the dream sense, to the best of her ability.
"And thou believest they are more or less harmless?"
"Y— Yes...?" Twilight asked, more than answered.
"True enough. A single nightmare may not harm thee, and when thou wakest, 'tis gone." Luna took a breath, holding her chin up with a certain hint of pride as she spoke. "In the time before our corruption, our duties extended far beyond the moon and the perverted voyeurism which defineth them today. Thou spakest of safeguarding. Indeed, 'twas our charge: To stand here in the abyss before all manner of hideous nightmares and route them before they could reach the sleeping minds of our subjects, to draw them into ourselves so that our subjects would never have to know their horrors. We were a guardian. This was our purpose, and we failed in't."
A chill wriggled through Twilight's heart at the thought.
"'Tis true. A single nightmare may not harm, nor ten, nor a hundred, nor even a thousand. But a thousand, each night...scrambling to gnaw at the minds of peaceful dreamers...drawn to and held captive in a single body...each night, every night for generations... Well... Thou hast seen the result. All of Equestria hath seen...the result."
Twilight's heart sank. "Princess—"
"We were corrupted," Luna continued unabated, "failed in our charge, and so dutifully imprisoned. There we remained, until the day of our return, the day of our reckoning at the hooves of thee and thy comrades, and so cleansed. So...happy...were we then...so thankful...so hopeful—and then the truth: We could no longer see," she said with audible distain.
"See...Princess?" asked Twilight.
"See them."
"Nightmares?"
"Even now, they swarm us. We are certain of it. We feel them, their shadowed claws and bodies lurching ever onward... This...was our battleground..."
Twilight scanned the empty abyss, trying hard to imagine.
"Be not mistaken, student of the sun. The war rages. All around us, it rages. They clamor forth from the darkness—frantic, ravenous—eager to assault and infect the dreams of the unprepared, and we unable to halt their advance. But...as thou hast already observed, a single nightmare is, on its own, harmless. Still, 'twas our purpose: to grapple with them, to spare our subjects the wounds they might inflict. And now we are removed from it."
A sense of dread crept up in Twilight at hearing what sounded like a goddess having an existential crisis. Twilight bowed. "Forgive me, Princess, but...have you...talked to Princess Celestia about any of this?"
"We have," said Luna. "Our sister will not aid us in returning to the vanguard, and we would not ask't. We failed, lost ourselves chasing monsters in the darkness, and we see now the foolishness of our supposed purpose, how little even it truly mattered. No longer may we see our old enemies, but instead only truth, and we may not go back. We were so...thankful, to thee and thine for freeing us, for...giving us back our mind, and yet...though we harbor no ill will against thee—be assured, we do not—we...find ourselves wishing to be returned to our prison, to be stripped of our sanity once more and chained. 'Tis our...fondest wish, though our sister will afford us no such mercy. Insanity was...such a wonderful gift, in the face of meaningless eternity..."
"But...Nightmare Night, you... Didn't you have fun?"
The tiniest trace of a smile flickered on Luna's face, gone just as quickly. "We did. But fun is...fleeting. Short-lived. As are all things, we understand now." She glanced at Twilight, her expression, analyzing it and the thoughts it concealed. "Thou comparest us to our sister, warm and loving, and findest our coldness...strange. But thou forgetst: She is the day. She is the sun. She is warmth, and love. We...are not. The night is quiet, contemplative...lonely and cold compared to its sister. Likewise are we."
"But you have Princess Celestia. Surely she--"
"Will fade, in time."
Twilight's brow furrowed, her mouth drawn open as she tried to catch Luna's meaning.
Her confusion did not go unnoticed.
"Didst thou think not? Thou hast noticed our sister's size and age, yes? Compared to our own?"
Head spinning, Twilight gave a nod.
"Long-lived, yes. Truly. But not eternal."
Twilight attempted to speak, but the swirling mass of thoughts swimming around in her head just wouldn't come out in anything more than a stammering stutter of buts and shes.
"She is the day. She is the sun. One day, albeit far from now, our sister's sun will set one final time and fade, and her, her kingdom, and her ponies with't. The light will die, the warmth recede, and all things return to the natural state. Light is but a guest—seen through timeless eyes, even it a momentary comfort, finite and fleeting. In time, the night will inherit creation. In the absence of mortal things with which to toy, Discord, too, will wane, and we will be alone. Truly...alone. In time. Night—darkness—in the truest sense: the absence of all things..."
Twilight stood stunned, as though the scope of Luna's words had zoomed her so far out of herself that she couldn't even...wrap her head around it.
Luna glanced at her again, perhaps more sadly than before, with a short, quiet sigh. "Dost thou understand now the allure of insanity?"
"Princess, I..." Twilight dug deep for the right words, any words, but...everything she imagined saying just felt like tiny drops in a big lake: diluted quickly, gone, and ultimately worthless.
"Do not trouble yourself, Twilight Sparkle." Luna's eyes closed a moment, then opened partway. She seemed to relax some, or sadden; her voice lost its judgmental tone, its strength, its godhood. "It's not your nightmare to bear. All you have to do is...wake up."
In her bed, Twilight's eyes fluttered open.