Changeling escapades: Stealing Sleep

by Erised the ink-moth

What lurks in the dark

Rain poured down from the stormy skies overhead. Ponies would have run for shelter if they were unfortunate enough to be caught in the downpour, but there were none, not out here.

Only one lone figure slogged through the rain and the cold, wrapped in a soaking wet cloak, pulling a covered metal bin behind them as they went.

Old abandoned warehouses lined each side of the dilapidated road, covered in vines and falling apart from neglect. Concrete foundations crumbled down to the steel rebar, and rusted metal doors hung precariously on ancient hinges. All throughout the streets and alleyways in between were scattered heaps of junk. Broken crates, dumpsters, empty metal drums and glass panes smashed to bits littered the ground.

The lone figure trudged on, four legs unwavering in their purpose.

At last it stopped in front of one particularly overgrown old building, a foreman's office at one time, perhaps. Carefully the figure looked around, listening against the rain for anyone or anything that may have followed it. Satisfied that it was alone, it pulled its cargo around to the back of the building.

Strangely, they didn't go for the back door, instead choosing to walk towards a wall that had collapsed. The hole was large, but had had long since filled with rubble, with and metal beams sticking out like spears. A hoof was raised and pressed through the blockage, the concrete and metal rippling like water at their touch. For a few seconds they swept their hoof back and forth inside the illusion, as if searching for something.

Finally there was a loud *clank*, followed by the sound of something sliding open.

The figure walked back to grab their cart and dragged it through the rippling illusory wall with them. Seconds later the wall appeared still and solid once more, as if nothing had ever been there.

---

Now inside the dark dry confines of his hive, the changeling pulled off his sopping wet cloak, discarding it near the door for when he'd eventually need to put it on again. His eyes quickly adjusted to the pitch blackness, letting him see the path that led deeper in.

After several minutes of walking, dragging the cart and hearing its wheels grind against the stone floor, he arrived in the hive proper. It wasn't anything grand or glorious by any stretch of the imagination, but it suited their needs just fine. It was a network of underground storage cellars, one of dozens built and abandoned by the ponies, minotaurs, and griffons decades ago. Old posters claim it was supposed to be an industrial trading hub, an attempt to promote friendly relations between Equestria and their neighboring kingdoms.

Obviously that hadn't worked as well as they'd hoped, but one pony's failed political economic venture was another changeling's new secret base... or something like that.

Announcing his presence wasn't necessary; the others had been alerted of his arrival the second he walked through the door. Instead he simply continued towards his first stop: processing.

It was one of the few areas of the hive that wasn't completely dark, if only because of the glow of magic coursing along the veins in the walls. What was shown by the light of those countless streams of intoxicating blue would have horrified anypony who saw it, but to the changelings, it was their glorious salvation at work.

In every one of a hundred rooms, the walls were lined with ponies. Each lay comfortably inside their own slimy cocoon, the shimmering tendrils that wormed through the walls wrapped around their heads. None of them were bound. None of them needed to be bound, as each one was trapped in a deep, unbreakable sleep.

Changeling workers patrolled the rows of ponies, meticulously inspecting each one. If they needed substance, a nutrient-rich slime was pumped down their throats. If they'd fallen ill or developed bedsores, they were removed, treated, and replaced. And if they perished... they were taken away and disposed of.

"Depositing new subjects?" a nearby worker asked from beside him, a clipboard in hoof.

The changeling nodded and opened the metal bit, revealing three large sacks. "Penworth Write: unicorn stallion. Age: 41. City abducted: New Hamshire. And Toffee Blossom: earth pony mare. Age: 38. City abducted: also New Hamshire. The two were husband and wife."

"Good to know." the other changeling said, quickly scribbling everything down, then pointed to the third. "What about that last one."

The changeling placed a hoof over the last cloth sack, defensively. "Hail Slick: pegasus stallion. Age: 26. City abducted: Neighagra. The queen wanted this one herself. Part of phase two."

The other changeling gave a curt nod and took the other two. They'd be cleaned, processed, and integrated into the dream.

Meanwhile, Hail would be brought before the queen as requested.

---

The queen's chambers were easy enough to find; just follow the tendrils in the walls. They grew denser and glowed brighter the closer you got, to the point of covering every surface like luminescent paint.

Upon arriving, there were no guards to offer resistance, no doors to block passage, just a simple silk curtain where the door should have been. More of these thin curtains were hung inside the room, lit by that eerie blue light and flowing in a nonexistent breeze, and giving the feeling of drifting through a sea of ghosts.

The source of the light was easy enough to see, as she hung right at the room's center, tangled withing a giant mass of tendrils that pulsed in time with her breathing. She was the source of them, and the perpetual sleep they brought.

"Queen Narcolace."

The queen shifted slightly at her name, though her eyes remained shut.

"We've captured another one. Hail Slick this time."

Narcolace breathed deeply, the tendrils bearing an extra bright glow as she did. "Bring him over." She finally managed to say.

The changeling removed Hail Slick from the sack, still unconscious, and lifted him up to the queen.

Narcolace leaned her head forward, brushing her face ever so slightly against the pegasus. A purr escaped her and a smile spread across her face. Then her face contorted as if in pain, and another blue tendril snaked it's way from her horn and wrapped around Hail Slick's head.

"Hmm, yes... put him with the others."

The changeling nodded and carried Hail out of the queen's quarters to the special place she kept the ponies crucial to her plan, those with knowledge of Princess Luna, and more importantly... how to kill her.

"We're close now." Narcolace crooned. "So very close."