SAPR

by Scipio Smith

The Dream Maker, Part One (New)

The Dream Maker, Part One

In the fertile lands to the east of Vale, in the small town of Arcadia Lake, in a good-sized house in the middle of the settlement, Doctor Caen Diggory shuffled across the room. The pain in his leg prevented him from moving any more swiftly.

The doctor was an old man now, his once dark hair, which he wore combed back, turned mostly to silvery grey, while his face was deeply lined around the cheeks and mouth. He wore a three-piece suit of limestone grey, with the chain of an old-fashioned pocket watch stretching across his waistcoat. Only a green tie provided any sort of splash of colour on his clothing; it had been a gift from an old student of his.

A student he would have liked to have had with him now, not that Bartholomew would have been of much help in this particular endeavour.

But Doctor Diggory was sometimes uncertain that he himself was of much help in this particular endeavour.

With a pair of blue-grey eyes, framed by a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, Doctor Diggory looked down upon young Miss Pole.

Plum Pole, her name was, a girl of twelve with long golden hair held back by a black silk band, lying on a bed with her eyes closed.

They hadn’t opened for several weeks now.

Young Miss Pole was hooked up to an IV drip; it was feeding her body the nutrients it needed to survive. Around the bed — all sitting on the left hand side, leaving the right clear — were various other bits of medical equipment, monitoring her heart rate, her brain waves, that sort of thing.

It was the brain wave monitor that interested Diggory the most, when he glanced away from Miss Pole to the medical equipment. She was undergoing quite substantial brain activity; surprisingly so. Yes, coma patients did dream, but these brain waves… they would be off the charts for someone who was wide awake, let alone someone who’d been unconscious for some time now.

What’s going on in that head of yours, Miss Pole?

Nobody knew what had happened to her; she’d been spending a fair amount of time with her friend Mister Scrub, in the home of Professor Scrub, the other academic living here in Arcadia Lake, but neither the professor nor young Mister Scrub could explain why Miss Pole had suddenly collapsed one day, entered a sleep from which she would not wake. They could only say that she had done so.

Arcadia Lake was a pleasant place to live, a pleasant place to retire, a pleasant place to carry out his research, but it was also remote, quiet, out of the way. The town doctor — the medical doctor — had died just a few days before Miss Pole’s … before this inexplicable condition had overtaken Miss Pole. The doctor had succumbed to a heart attack, poor fellow, and a replacement hadn’t arrived from Vale yet.

With the way things were looking, it was beginning to look as though one never would.

It was beginning to look as though there might not be an Arcadia Lake to arrive at before too long.

It was certainly a concern, but it was not Diggory’s immediate one. The threat of the grimm was … something for other people to worry about now; he had hung up his weapon a long time ago.

His concern at the moment was Miss Pole, lying on the bed; there was only a single light down here in his laboratory, and it cast the corners of the wood-panelled room in shadow, but the light shone down upon Miss Pole where she lay sleeping.

Waiting for a prince to kiss her awake, perhaps.

No, still a little young for that sort of thing.

He was not the ideal sort of person to take care of her, but with Doctor MacTavish having passed away and with Professor Scrub being rather disinterested, it had fallen to him as the only candidate for the job.

It was a pity, then, that he had very few ideas, and very few of them sound ones.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Diggory said, his eyes not leaving Miss Pole.

The door opened, and young Mister Scrub walked in. Malmsey Scrub was a lad of about Miss Pole’s age, with eyes as green as the grape and hints of green at the tips of his tousled black hair; his face was freckled, and the freckles seemed to stand out even more when he was nervous, as he was now, holding a neckerchief rolled up in his hands, wringing it as he stood in the doorway.

“How … how is she?” he asked.

Doctor Diggory looked at him and tried his best to smile reassuringly. “No change, I’m afraid.”

“But … that means that she hasn’t gotten any worse, doesn’t it?” said Mister Scrub.

That was certainly an optimistic way of looking at it, but Diggory had no desire to dampen the boy’s optimism. “Yes,” he said, “that’s correct. She certainly hasn’t gotten any worse.”

Mister Scrub approached slowly, moving almost as slowly as Diggory had, only with uncertainty as the cause instead of an old wound. Nevertheless, he eventually reached Miss Pole’s bedside — Diggory took a step backwards to make way for him and, with one hand, let go of his neckerchief as he reached out and took her hand, small and pale and laid out motionless upon the bed.

Mister Scrub looked up at him. “Do you think she can hear me?”

“I’m … I’m sure that she can.” Diggory assured him, though he was by no means certain of the fact.

Mister Scrub took a deep breath. “Ho-hold on, Plum,” he said. “I’ll … I’m going to find a way to save you, I promise. So wait for me.” He let go of her hand. “I’ve got to go; my uncle’s waiting for me.” Mister Scrub turned away from Miss Pole’s bed and made his way back towards the door.

Find a way to save her? And how does he mean to do that? Young Mister Scrub had bags under his eyes, dark lines as though he weren’t sleeping very well. What did he know? What did he know that could help Miss Pole? What wasn’t he saying?

“Mister Scrub,” Diggory called.

Mister Scrub had almost reached the door, but he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“Is there anything that you can tell me?” Doctor Diggory demanded. “Anything at all, anything that might explain Miss Pole’s condition?”

Mister Scrub hesitated for a moment, before he said, “No, sir. Nothing.”

Diggory didn’t believe him, but nevertheless, he said, “I see. Very well. Off you go, Mister Scrub; you mustn’t keep your uncle waiting.”

Mister Scrub nodded, and this time, he did leave, although he also left the door open. Diggory could hear his footsteps climbing the stairs up out of the basement.

Diggory might have gone to shut the door himself, but through it not long after came Mrs. Macready, his housekeeper.

“I didn’t think you’d mind him visiting,” she said. “He said he wouldn’t be long.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Diggory replied. “It’s good for her to hear a familiar voice from time to time.”

Mrs. Macready smiled briefly. She was not quite as old as he was, but she was approaching it, with grey streaks in her curly brown hair, and wrinkles appearing on her face and hands. “Will you come up for supper, Doctor, or shall I bring it down for you?”

“I’m not hungry, thank you, Mrs. Macready.”

“You must eat something, Doctor,” Mrs. Macready insisted. “It’s been hours since lunch, and you ate little enough of that.” She put her hands on her hips. “If I have to drag you up out of this room to get something to eat, I will.”

“In that case, it would probably be best if you brought something down,” Doctor Diggory replied, allowing just a touch of amusement to enter his voice.

Mrs. Macready nodded. “Very well, then; I’ll bring it just as soon as it's ready.”

She closed the door behind her as she left.

As the door shut, Doctor Diggory sank into a dark brown leather chair sitting at Miss Pole’s bedside.

A heavy sigh fell from his mouth. “Is there anything that I can do for you, Miss Pole?” he asked.

She did not answer. Of course she didn’t. She lay there, eyes closed, unmoving, only a slight breathing and the information supplied by all those monitors to indicate that she was still alive.

Doctor Diggory feared that there was nothing he could do for her.

Except, perhaps…

His eyes were drawn to the … well, he hadn’t thought of a name for it yet, but it consisted of a reasonably-sized grey metal box, about two cubic feet in volume, from which sprang various wires, connected to the monitoring devices, little sensors surrounded by pressure pads intended to be placed around the head.

Doctor Caen Diggory had more than one doctorate, but one of his lesser known fields of study was parapsychology. It was lesser known in part because it tended to be dismissed as quack science, but Diggory had seen too much to dismiss so easily the idea that there was more in heaven and earth than men had dreamt of in their philosophy. Telekinesis, clairvoyance, precognition, extrasensory perception, all of these things were possible through semblances, so why should they be out of bounds for those whose semblances tended in a different direction? It was scientifically possible, so why should it be out of bounds for study, left to the vagaries of certain souls? It was all in the mind, he believed, its secrets waiting to be unlocked; if they could only discover the pattern, the right combination of electrical impulses, the right set of brainwaves … what could they not achieve?

What could he not achieve for Miss Pole, if he could only get inside her head and find out what was keeping her trapped there?

Doctor Diggory got up and shuffled across the room to pick up his device. It was heavy, and the weight slowed him down even more than his wound; he could feel his back protesting the strain as he lugged the thing back to his seat and placed it down upon the chair. He had to take a breath or two afterwards before he could begin to attach the sensors to Miss Pole’s head, placing them upon the sides of her temple and upon her forehead.

Then he was forced to pick the box up again, so that he might sit down with the device upon his lap. His legs were not particularly happy about the weight, and they let him know it with throbbing pains, even as he attached the sensors to his own head.

In theory, the device should join their brainwaves together, conducting the electrical outputs from each into the device itself where they would mingle and become as one.

In theory, at least.

On top of the box were various monitors, buttons, and switches; with one wrinkled hand, he pushed the green button to start the device.

---

Malmsey Scrub fished the key to his uncle’s house out of his pocket and opened the door. It squeaked a little upon its hinges as he stepped into the hall, and then thumped solidly as he closed the door behind him.

He dropped the latch with a click.

“Malmsey?” Uncle Verdell called to him. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Malmsey replied, walking through the hall and through the kitchen into his uncle’s study at the back of the house. The room was kept dark, and the light mainly came from the glowing rings which sat upon a table at the back of the room, giving off a pale and sickly-looking green and yellow light.

Verdell Scrub was a tall, slender man; his hair was white but voluminous, worn in a bouffant style piled atop his head. He wore a blue velvet jacket and trousers striped in royal and navy blue, with a grey waistcoat and a white dress shirt on underneath. His nose was sharp, and his chin pointed.

“And how is Miss Pole today?” Uncle Verdell asked in his sinuous voice.

“She’s no worse,” Malmsey said, a moment before he admitted, “but no better, either.”

“Then it seems as though it’s up to you to find a way to make things right, doesn’t it?” Uncle Verdell asked, as he stepped aside and gestured towards the rings.

---

The huntsman ran down the street.

The ursa major pursued him, growling and snarling, its paws making the ground shake as it followed him relentlessly.

The huntsman whimpered in fear.

He tripped and fell, landing flat on his face with a thump and a wince.

The ursa gained on him.

The huntsman rolled over onto his back. He scrambled backwards; it was all he could do. He couldn’t feel his legs any more; he could barely move his arms.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This was … this couldn’t be real; it couldn’t. This was … this was what he’d always…

No. Not like this.

He pulled out his pistol and fired once, twice, three times; the shots had no effect upon the advancing grimm. It bore down upon him as relentless as the tide.

“No,” the huntsman cried. “No! Stay away!”

Wake up, wake up, this isn’t happening!

The ursa thrust its head forwards, snarling directly into his face, letting him feel the creature’s breath upon his face, letting him see the saliva dripping from its jaws. It was as though it wanted him to know that this was very real.

He couldn’t even activate his aura.

“Please,” he mewled, “not like this.”

For a moment, the ursa did nothing; it just stood there, casting a shadow over him, a rough, guttural sound emanating from its throat as it stared at him with those burning red eyes.

Then its jaws closed around the huntsman’s head, slamming shut, cutting off his last, pitiful cry.

It devoured him, consuming him as his blood covered its teeth and stained its bony mask. And when there was nothing left of the huntsman but blood, the ursa major raised his head and looked around.

And then it vanished, as though it had never been at all.

---

Blood.

Ruin.

Failure.

There were too many. Too many grimm, too many frightened people. Too many, and not enough time.

Not enough time to save them all.

“Doctor? Doctor Diggory?”

Diggory gasped as he opened his eyes, the ruin of Mountain Glenn dissolving before his eyes and being replaced by the sight of Mrs. Macready bending over him, her brown eyes filled with concern.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked.

“I…” Diggory trailed off, looking down at the heavy device sat on his lap. “It didn’t work, I see.”

“Assuming you weren’t trying to put yourself to sleep, Doctor.”

“No, no indeed, I was not,” Diggory replied. “I was … I was trying to reach Miss Pole.”

Mrs. Macready sighed. “More of your experiments?”

“That wasn’t the point; I … I thought they might help,” Diggory replied. “All I did was put myself to sleep, it seems.”

“Did you at least have pleasant dreams?”

“No,” Diggory murmured. “The old dream again. Mountain Glenn.”

“I thought you’d stopped having those nightmares.”

“It appears not.”

“I see,” Mrs Macready murmured. “Well … your supper’s over there; don’t let it get cold.”

She turned to go, crossing the room but pausing in the doorway. “You’ll find a way, Doctor, I’m sure you will.”

“I wish I shared your confidence, Mrs. Macready.”

Mrs. Macready smiled softly, then, once more, shut the door behind herself as she departed.

Doctor Diggory found his legs had gone rather stiff while he had been asleep with this heavy weight upon his chest. They would bitterly protest once the time came to lift the thing up and put it back.

“Well, Miss Pole,” he said softly as he plucked the sensors from off her head, “I can only hope that wherever you are, your dreams are more pleasant than mine.”

---

The firelight danced on Sunset’s face. As she stared into the flames, they were reflected in her green eyes.

She stared into the flames as though the mysteries of the world might be found within.

She stared into the flames as though they fascinated her. As though she found them beautiful.

She did find them beautiful. She always had. When she had been a little filly, she and Princess Celestia would snuggle up by the fire together, with hot cocoa and a good book, and sometimes, Sunset would sneak a glance away from the princess or the book to watch the fires dance in the fireplace.

That was why she loved her hair, in a way: because it was like fire. Or perhaps she loved the fire because it reminded her of her hair; she was vain enough for that to be the correct way around. Either way, she loved the flames; she loved the way the red and the gold danced, mingled and intertwined. The colours … brought her joy.

They brought her no joy now. Now, when she looked into the flames, all she could see was burning: the fire consuming all things, and leaving only cold ashes behind.

Trixie yawned. “Remind us, won’t you, of what we’re doing here.”

Sunset looked up from the flames, to fix her eyes upon The Great and Powerful Trixie, who sat with Starlight Glimmer across the fire from her.

“You two could remind me of what you’re doing here,” Sunset pointed out.

“Rainbow Dash asked us to keep an eye on you,” Starlight explained, and not for the first time. “She seemed to think you might do something … unwise.”

Sunset drew in a deep breath, and then let out an even deeper breath. Thank you, Rainbow Dash. “You know, when she asked you to do that … I don’t know exactly what she thought that I was going to do or what she expected you to do, but I don’t think that she had the two of you doing this in mind.”

“Maybe not,” Trixie conceded. “But we’re Atlesians, so we like to go above and beyond.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “It’s that kind of attitude that gives Atlas a bad name, you do realise that.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the SDC’s business practices that give Atlas a bad name,” Starlight declared. “Our attitude just gives Atlas an insufferable name.”

Sunset snorted. “There’s no need for you to be here,” she said. “This … is supposed to be a solo mission.”

Starlight’s brow furrowed. “Uh huh. You want to tell us what that’s about?”

“What makes you think there’s anything to tell?” Sunset replied disingenuously.

“The fact that it’s not normal,” Starlight said. “We’re put in four-man squads for a reason.”

“You’re here,” Sunset pointed out.

“But the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrixie did not come without her glamorous and very capable assistant, Starlight,” Trixie declared.

“Rainbow actually asked me to keep an eye on you,” Starlight pointed out. “I asked Trixie to keep an eye on me, because lone wolf stuff isn’t normal, and I don’t like it.”

“Then go back to Beacon,” Sunset snapped. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames as it consumed the wood that they had gathered. “Please,” she said, her tone softening and her voice quietening. “Please go back to Beacon.”

“Why?” Starlight demanded. “Why don’t you want us here?”

“Because…” Sunset closed her eyes, her voice trailing off. Because this mission is supposed to kill me, and I don’t want your deaths on my conscience. “The danger—”

“Is something we face every time we go out into the field,” Starlight pointed out. “And if it’s so dangerous, why are you out here by yourself?”

Sunset did not reply. She looked at Starlight, into those blue eyes, and said nothing.

“I think this is why Rainbow Dash wanted us to keep an eye on you,” Trixie said.

“So you’ll come out here, into the field, to what could be a much more dangerous mission than a student team should be on, with someone you don’t know … because Rainbow asked you to?” Sunset asked.

Starlight and Trixie glanced at one another. “Pretty much, yeah,” Starlight admitted.

Sunset couldn't resist the slightly strangled laugh of incredulity that emerged from out of her mouth. “Because you like Rainbow Dash that much?”

“Rainbow Dash is … tolerable, Trixie supposes,” Trixie said.

“I like her,” Starlight said. “But that’s not the point. The point is … she’s an Atlesian classmate, so of course we’re going to help her out. That’s just how we play it.”

“Don’t make this an Atlesian exceptionalism thing,” Sunset said. “Plenty of teams from other schools would help out other teams; it doesn’t make you special.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” Starlight said.

“Now are you going to tell us what we’re doing here or not?” Trixie demanded. “The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie would like some intel.”

Sunset was silent for a moment, and then for a moment longer. She remained silent as she looked away from Starlight, and from Trixie, looking back down into the flickering, dancing, and consuming flames.

Sunset walked into the study of the First Councillor. Unlike the last time she had been here, there was no sign of young Bramble, Councillor Emerald’s son.

That wasn’t too surprising, considering the low opinion which Councillor Emerald held of her. All things considered, it was rather amazing that he had allowed her anywhere near his son in the first place.

Councillor Emerald himself was there, of course; he was sat behind a desk, signing some piece of paper which he pushed to one side as she came in.

He looked up at her, and then got to his feet so that he might look down upon her rather than looking up. His majestic antlers nearly touched the ceiling. “Miss Shimmer,” he said, his lip curling in disapproval.

Sunset straightened up, clasping her hands behind her back. “Councillor,” she murmured.

Councillor Emerald stared at her for a moment; he was wearing a dress suit, a black tailcoat with a white waistcoat, a white bow tie around his neck, a winged collar. One small corner of handkerchief was visible sticking out of his breast pocket, and he wore a blood red carnation in his buttonhole.

“Will you attend the wake tonight, Miss Shimmer?” he asked her.

Sunset wondered if he had called her here to tell her that it would be disrespectful to go anywhere near it. “I planned to, Councillor, along with my teammates.”

“No,” Councillor Emerald said. “You will not.”

Sunset swallowed. “No, Councillor?”

“No,” Councillor Emerald repeated. “I have your first mission, Miss Shimmer. Your first, and with good fortune, your last mission.”

Sunset’s chest rose and fell. “I… I see,” she said softly. So it has come to it at last. In some respects, I suppose I’m lucky that it was put off for so long.

Not that I can say I made the most of the opportunity.

“What is it that you have for me, Councillor?” Sunset asked. “Would you like me to leap into a nest of king taijitus?”

“I don’t consider this a laughing matter,” Councillor Emerald said sharply.

“Nor do I, Councillor,” Sunset replied. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

Councillor Emerald picked up the scroll that sat on his desk and pushed a couple of buttons. Sunset felt her own scroll vibrate in her pocket, nudging her hip with a persistent repetition.

“All the details have been sent to you,” Councillor Emerald informed her. “But the short version is that you are to go to the village of Arcadia Lake, if it still exists.”

Sunset frowned. “'Still exists'?”

“Considering the circumstances, you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you to save lives,” Councillor Emerald growled, “but all contact has been lost with Arcadia Lake, with the huntsman who was contracted to guard it, with the team of Haven students who were dispatched there a few weeks ago to shadow a huntsman hired by the town. There has been no contact, and no one who has tried to reach the place can get through. You will try and get through.”

Because it doesn’t matter if you lose me in the attempt. “Even though you think there’s nothing there?”

“If there is nothing there, if the village has been destroyed, then you will confirm that,” Councillor Emerald said. “And then you will avenge its destruction by destroying all grimm in the area before you return. It may be that the village can be rebuilt, once the region has been secured.”

Sunset nodded. “And if the village is not destroyed?” she asked. “If contact has been lost for some other reason?”

“Then assist in the defence until the situation stabilises or communications are restored and aid arrives,” Councillor Emerald said. “Do you think that you can manage that without running away?”

“I’ve no problem with giving my own life, Councillor,” Sunset said, her voice sharpening ever so slightly.

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Councillor Emerald muttered. “Airships attempting to fly to Arcadia Lake were forced to turn back by large numbers of flying grimm, so you’ll have to walk from Willow Creek, the nearest town. A Bullhead is standing by. I suggest you leave at once.”

Sunset swallowed. “Yes, Councillor.”

It was … convenient, she had to say. Everyone would be getting ready for or on their way to the wake. She could slip away, without anyone noticing.

Without having to explain where she was going.

Without having to say goodbye.

And yet, at the same time, she regretted not having the chance to say goodbye.

It might not be goodbye, of course. She might win through. She might survive. She might survive to come back and wait for the next assignment to be bestowed upon her from the First Councillor.

Or she might not. She might die at Arcadia Lake, overwhelmed by the grimm that had destroyed the village.

In which case…

They looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return.

She would never see them again. Nor dared she send a message that might alert them — Pyrrha in particular had one eye on Sunset; if she sensed that something was wrong, she would try and find her — to Sunset’s departure.

No, she would have to slip away, like a thief — or a murderer.

It was no more or less than she deserved.

And yet, as she walked out of the First Councillor’s residence and stood on the street outside, feeling the evening air kiss her face as the sun began to set, Sunset felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Pyrrha, take care of them.

Sunset got out her scroll, hesitated for a moment, and then put it away again.

She might as well wait to summon her locker until she got to the airship.

“Sunset?” Trixie prompted.

“What?” Sunset asked, looking up from the flames.

“You were about to brief us on what we’re doing here,” Trixie reminded her. “Hopefully.”

“Yes,” Sunset said softly. “Yes, I was.” She blinked rapidly. “From Willow Creek where we landed, we are making our way that way,” — she pointed eastward down the dirt road along which they had been walking, until they had decided to stop for the night and make camp — “towards the village of Arcadia Lake.”

“Why couldn’t we just land at Arcadia Lake?” Trixie asked.

“Grimm have made it too dangerous for airships,” Sunset said.

Starlight frowned. “If things are that bad then what are things like for the village?”

“Arcadia Lake is not without protection,” Sunset replied. She had studied the details that Councillor Emerald had supplied to her, including maps of the area, on the way to the skydock to meet her airship; it had not been until she arrived there that Trixie and Starlight had ambushed her with their company. “The village doesn’t sit beside the lake; it sits out in the middle of the lake, upon an island, which helps to keep the grimm at bay. Once we reach Arcadia Lake, we’ll have to get a boat out there. If we can.”

One of Starlight’s eyebrows rose. “'If we can'?” she asked. “But you just said-”

“Contact with Arcadia Lake has been lost,” Sunset admitted. “Despite the natural barriers we may get there to find … that there is nothing left.”

Starlight folded her arms. “In which case … what?”

“Then my orders are to clear the area of any grimm,” Sunset said flatly.

“To what end?” Starlight asked.

“To the end of restoring the lake to Vale’s control, in case they decide to rebuild the village,” Sunset said.

“Not exactly a job for one kid,” Starlight said.

“Are you still sure you want to come?” Sunset asked. “There’s still time to head back to Willow Creek, now or in the morning.”

Starlight and Trixie looked at one another.

“What are your orders if this village isn’t gone?” asked Trixie. “Badger’s Drift was out of contact, but the people there weren’t dead.”

“Then my orders are to help defend the village and the people who live there,” Sunset replied.

“Then the Grrrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is not the sort of huntress to walk away from a mission like that,” Trixie declared. “How about you, Starlight?”

Starlight shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Me neither.”

“You don’t understand!” Sunset snapped.

“Then explain it better!” Trixie snapped back at her.

Sunset closed her eyes. She screwed them tight shut. “This mission,” she murmured. “If you go with me on this mission, there is a very good chance that one or … or both of you will die.”

“And what makes you say that?” asked Starlight.

“Because… because there’s a reason I’m on this mission all by myself, without my teammates,” Sunset said.

Neither Starlight nor Trixie gave an immediate reply, but no sooner had the words passed Sunset’s lips than her scroll went off.

“Are you going to get that?” asked Trixie.

“No,” Sunset said.

“It might be important,” Trixie pointed out.

“I think I know who it is,” Sunset replied.

“Your teammates?” Starlight suggested.

Sunset nodded silently.

Starlight folded her arms. “So … you took a mission that you knew was dangerous, on your own, without telling your teammates where you were going or what you were doing, and now you’re just going to ghost them as they try to find out where you are?”

Sunset blinked. “Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a jackass.”

“Because you are one,” Trixie said bluntly.

“I can’t reply,” Sunset insisted.

“Why not?” Starlight demanded.

“Because you two came out here with me just because Rainbow asked you to; imagine what my teammates would do!” Sunset cried.

Starlight said, “And that would be bad because—”

“Because I screwed up, and people died, and this is my atonement,” Sunset said. “That’s why I’m here on my own, that’s why I took this mission, that’s what this is all about: penance. This is me making it right. This is me … paying my debt.”

“You’re talking about your mission to Mountain Glenn, aren’t you?” said Starlight. “You’re talking about the Breach?”

Sunset nodded. “I … I could have stopped it,” she said. “But I didn’t.”

There was another moment of silence, another lull in the conversation.

“So?” demanded Trixie.

“So … what?”

“Exactly,” Trixie said. “So what?”

Sunset frowned. “Did you miss the part where people died?”

“Because you made a mistake; sure, that’s tragic,” Trixie said. “But…” She hesitated. “I don’t usually admit this in public, but … even the Great and Powerful Trixie makes mistakes. Sometimes … sometimes I make major mistakes.”

“Like what?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is not going to delve into examples,” Trixie declared magisterially. “Suffice it to say that they were … occasionally … quite serious. And do you know what Trixie did afterwards.”

“What?”

“Not this!” Trixie cried. “What you’re talking about isn’t making it right, it’s—”

“Punishing yourself,” Starlight finished for her. “It’s … the opposite. Trixie’s right. We all make mistakes. I’ve made mistakes, Trixie has made mistakes—”

“Just because I said it doesn’t mean everyone should!” squawked Trixie.

“We’ll make other mistakes, and those mistakes might cost lives because lives hang in the balance in the line of work we’re in, but this … you make it right by doing better next time. By saving lives, by not repeating the same mistakes. Which we might still have the chance to do, let’s not forget that, but if not … this isn’t how you make things right.”

“Unless it is, apparently,” Sunset muttered.

Starlight snorted. “I guess so. Unless it is.”

Trixie yawned. “We should get some sleep. If we’re going to reach this place tomorrow, then we’d better be rested for it. Don’t want to be tired during the performance.”

Starlight smiled. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“No, I’ll take first; you can take second,” Sunset said.

“Are you sure?” Starlight asked.

Sunset nodded. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “So long as you do wake me.”

“I will,” Sunset assured her. “I promise.”

“Hmm,” Starlight murmured. “Okay then. I’ll take second watch.”

“And that leaves the third watch for me,” Trixie said. “Goodnight, everyone.” She lay down there and then, lying on her side with her purple cape, covered in gold and silver stars, draped over her like a blanket.

Within mere moments, she had started to snore.

Starlight smiled fondly at her, before she, too, lay down, curling up on a white groundsheet with an Atlesian symbol in the corner — because of course it did — her body all rolled up like a cat.

Sunset’s hand glowed with telekinesis as she pulled Sol Invictus into her grasp. She checked — not for the first time — that it was loaded, and then rested it against her shoulder as she turned her back upon her travelling companions and peered out into the darkness of the night.

She could hear and see nothing, not even when she cast a nightvision spell upon her eyes to penetrate the darkness; she kept her eyes peeled nonetheless. With the way that she felt, she would not be too surprised if she ended up attracting grimm.

She had not asked for Trixie and Starlight to come with her. She had not wanted Trixie and Starlight to come with her, but now that they were here…

A part of her was shamefully glad of their presence, shamefully glad that she was not alone.

Another part of her feared that they would perish, on this mission meant to cause her death. A part of her feared that they would die, and that to all the grief Sunset had already caused would be added the sorrow of their teammates and their friends.

She did not want that. It was the last thing that she wanted, and yet … and yet, that other part of her could not deny that she was glad of the company.

She might have thanked them for it, were she not afraid that they would fall in this battle.

What was difficult for me alone may be easier for the three of us. Yes, the logic there was sound; it could not be denied. But at the same time, what if it was not so? What if what was impossible for one was equally impossible for three?

I daresay Councillor Emerald would rather have the village alive than me dead.

But then, he doesn’t really think the village is yet alive, does he? That’s why he only sent me; he has given Arcadia Lake up for lost and has sent me to add to the casualties.

If we reach the lake and it is so, then I will send them back; they have no need to stay for the clean-up.

But if we reach the lake and the village yet stands … I will be glad of the assistance.

And so, more importantly, will the village itself, I expect.

Their words lingered in Sunset’s mind as she stood guard. Professor Ozpin had said, or at least implied, much the same thing: that it would be better for her to live on than to die upon the First Councillor’s command. He had not said that by living on she could make good her mistake, but that had been the implication all the same.

In some ways, it would be easier to let herself get eaten by a grimm.

Easier for her, perhaps, but at the same time … cruel. Cruel to Pyrrha, cruel to Jaune … Ruby, on the other hand, might appreciate not having Sunset around to give her grief all the time.

No, that thought itself felt cruel, even confined to her head.

It would be cruel to all of them … crueller than sneaking off in the middle of the night. She would have to make amends for that, if any of them were in the mood to listen to her excuses when she got back.

Or they might just hate me, which would simplify matters.

Why do my thoughts unto such darkness tend? Why do they always seek the shadow and shun the light? How far am I sunk, and yet my mind seeks always to dive deeper still, to weigh down my feet, to drag me to the furthest depths?

Am I so lost? Am I so robbed of joy?

They are too kind to be so cruel, my friends, though I have been so cruel to them, and may be crueller still, though I hope not.

I must live. I must live and fight and, though I do not deserve them, return unto the bosom of my team … until the next time Councillor Emerald sends me forth.

And with the help of these two companions of mine, I may find it easier to win and return than I would have alone.

If that is so, then I will owe the both of them a great debt.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Trixie murmured. “I just … the ursa … I’m sorry.”

Starlight gave a wordless moan, rolling over onto her other side, then back onto the side she’d been before. Her face was set into a scowl, then turned into a look of fear, as best Sunset could tell with Starlight’s eyes closed.

Both having nightmares? Both troubled in their sleep? What have they to trouble them in the dark? What have they to fright them while they slumber?

I know not, for I know them not. Trixie Lulamoon, I paid little attention to at Canterlot, rating her of little account; Starlight Glimmer is unknown to me.

And yet here they are, come to my aid. Come to my aid upon request of Rainbow Dash, that’s true, but all the same … come to my aid.

Come to my aid, and I will not forget it. For however little time I have left.

Would that I could repay my debt by guarding them from these nightmares that assail them.

Yet I cannot. I cannot even guard my own mind from nightmares which doubtless will assail me when it is my turn to sleep.

Sunset would have liked to have stood watch for the whole night, if she could; she was not particularly fond of being awake in darkness, it brought out the worst in her mind, it bred fears in her, it bred anxiety and despair that threatened to overwhelm her; but sleep brought back to the tunnels under Mountain Glenn.

Sleep brought her no rest these days.

Only the sun would bring relief from all her troubles.

And yet, she feared sleep more than she hated darkness, and would have stayed awake all night if she could.

But to do so would invite a quarrel with Starlight the next morning, and so, when her allotted time had passed, Sunset knelt by Starlight’s side and nudged her awake.

Starlight’s blue eyes opened. “Thanks,” she murmured as she rubbed briefly at one eye with her right hand, before picking up her gun.

“Troubled sleep?” Sunset asked.

“You mean trouble sleeping?”

“No,” Sunset said, “I mean I could see you tossing and turning with an uncomfortable look on your face.”

Starlight sighed. “Like Trixie said, everyone makes mistakes,” she murmured. “Been a long time since they … never mind. Thanks.” She got to her feet. “Hey … before you turn in, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Sunset said. It puts off the moment when I have to turn in.

“You’ve told us everything about this mission, right?”

“I have,” Sunset replied, her voice bristling a little at the implication. “What do you think I might have left out?”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Is this … is it anything to do with Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood and their little organisation?”

Sunset fought to keep the surprise off her face. “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm,” Starlight murmured with intense and obvious scepticism. “Well, maybe you’re right, or maybe you’re just covering for them. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then good for you; if you do know what I’m talking about, then I don’t blame you for being cautious. But this mission … there aren’t going to be any surprises, right?”

“I can’t promise that,” Sunset replied. “But if there are surprises, they’ll surprise me too.”

Starlight smiled, if only slightly. “I guess that’ll have to be good enough for me,” she said. “You should get some rest. I’ll take over from here.”

Sunset laid down, much though it was against her inclinations to do so, because Starlight was right: she did need to get some rest, at least. She looked up at the stars, staring up at them and at the broken moon that dominated the night sky.

Thoughts besieged her, thoughts of what might be waiting for them tomorrow at Arcadia Lake, of what might befall Starlight and Trixie on this mission, of what might await her back at Beacon.

Her scroll vibrated some more, but Sunset resolutely ignored it. It would be … far easier to explain all this in person, much as the others might chafe at the delay.

Eventually, weariness overtook her like a patient hunter, and like her namesake, the sun itself descending beneath the horizon, Sunset sunk into a slumber.

It was as exactly as restful as she had expected, which was to say: not at all.

She dreamt she was in Mountain Glenn again, in the caverns beneath the city.

She dreamt she saw them die, one by one, before her eyes.

Over and over again.

While she was forced to watch.

It was exactly as Salem had shown it to her: Pyrrha’s pride crumbling into pain and shock, her emerald eyes wide as she struggled futilely for life; terror and agony mingling in Jaune’s screams; Ruby vanishing before her eyes, one moment standing there, the other … gone, swallowed up, consumed; Blake reached for Sunset, but there was nothing Sunset could do to help her.

She could only watch. She could only watch them all.

To dream about the train … came as almost a relief.

Suffice it to say that Sunset was very glad to wake up, to feel the sun on her face, to see the blue sky instead of the night sky, to be up and moving, where she could remember that they were only dreams, only nightmares, with no more power to harm her than Salem’s words beneath the city.

She could try and forget about them as the three huntresses moved forwards.

And the road ahead certainly gave her occasion to forget, because as they moved forward, they found that they were having to fight their way forward through hordes of beowolves that barred their way.

It was clear why nobody had been able to reach Arcadia Lake before; these grimm concentrations had probably put most people off trying, and with the situation in Vale as it was, there would be difficulties getting a huntsman to come out to the middle of nowhere like this.

Nevertheless, the three of them pushed forward, fighting their way through the grimm that stood against them, blasting or cutting them down, burning or freezing them with dust, fighting their way through the press of black bodies, smashing the masks of bleached bone, turning them all to smoke and ashes.

Until at last they came to what seemed like it might, just maybe, be the reason no one had heard from Arcadia Lake lately.

What they came to was a barrier, a barrier of dark red, a deep crimson. A barrier that stretched out on either side of the road, and rose up into the sky as well.

“What do you think it is?” Starlight asked.

“Could it be magic?” Trixie suggested.

Starlight frowned. “I … what kind of magic could do something like this?”

“But you’re accepting that it is magic?” Sunset asked. “Just like that?”

“Magic is real,” Trixie insisted. “It’s real, and people have it. What do you think it is that makes the Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie so Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrful? And besides, if this isn’t magic, then what is it?”

Sunset held up her hands. “I know that magic is real. I was just surprised that Starlight believed in it as well. Not everyone does.”

Starlight laughed nervously. “Well, when you hang around with Trixie long enough … do you really think that’s it? Do you really think that it could be … magic?”

Sunset didn’t reply. It was certainly a possibility, but at the same time … at the same time, it was a rather worrying one. For one thing, this barrier was stretching for some considerable distance — she couldn’t see it curving noticeably, which meant that if it was curving, then it was doing so rather shallowly — which would be quite a feat if accomplished through magical means.

Who was so powerful that they could accomplish such a thing?

How were they so powerful? Even in Equestria, Sunset couldn’t have managed anything like that! And magic in Remnant was a lot less powerful!

So how … and who?

Sunset recalled Professor Ozpin’s complaint, about Equestria dumping its villains and monsters into Remnant. Was that what was waiting for them? Was some long-forgotten terror of Equestria behind this?

“If it’s not magic, then what is it?” Trixie demanded. “A semblance? Who has a semblance that powerful?”

“It could be technologically-based,” Starlight pointed out.

“In Vale?” Trixie asked. “If they had shields like this, why wouldn’t they use it to protect Vale itself, instead of some out-of-the-way village?”

“You’ve got a point there,” Starlight admitted. “I guess we’ll find out when we get to the village. If we can reach the village.”

Sunset held out one white gloved hand; a green glow surrounded it as a ball of energy, a little larger than a thumb, emerged from her palm with a pop and drifted lazily towards the crimson barrier.

It struck the barrier and fizzled out, a touch of green light spreading a few inches across the dark red.

And then the barrier itself opened for them, an arch appearing in the blood red light, a gap through which they could all walk, if they so chose.

“Okay, is anyone else freaked out now?” Starlight asked.

“No,” Trixie said. “After all, the Great and Powerful Trixie is never freaked out by anything, no matter how unexpected. Are we really going to walk through there?”

“I don’t see that I have much choice,” Sunset said. “But there’s still time for the two of you to back out.”

“Don’t start that again,” Starlight said. “Whatever this is … we owe it to the people of that village to find out what’s going on and try to fix it.”

Behind them, the howling of more beowolves began to fill the air.

“Besides,” Starlight added, “we might actually be better off on the other side of … whatever this is.”

The archway waited; the barrier was silent and impassive, all save for this single hole through which they could traverse. If they so chose.

They chose.

Comments

[Mister Morden]

Very ominous... what will they find inside the Dome?

[Lancerguy]

Well that was a tonal shift. I am not sure if including the first half was the right choice, as it sort of defeats the mystery that Sunnykin's crew is building up with their part of the chapter. Perhaps it would have been better as its own chapter, then the one after that would have been the meetup?

Also Starlight? Maybe stick with "walked away from mistakes." Its certainly a better look as opposed to "ran away to the middle of nowhere and founded a pseudo-marxist cult of personality." Just saying.

[Mastermind4892]

I am already loving the setup here. Emerald's contemptuous attitude with murder in his heart (I wonder how Arcadia Lake will react to hearing that the First Councilor only deemed their people worth a single Huntress, and a first-year student at that!), a young woman having collapsed in a way that only Sunset's semblance can fix, everyone getting suspiciously plagued by their worst nightmares and triggering everyone's longtime regrets and fears (perfect for Sunset), a mysterious dome encompassing the whole region... so many exciting prospects await!

Furthermore, the rest of SAPR will ask Sunset were she was, and she can tell them honestly she was taken aside for a solo mission and forbidden to contact them. To which, they will ask since when does Sunset Shimmer care about orders?

[Splunge]

Borrowing Narnia character names for inspiration, now?

[Scipio Smith]

11285388
More than the names, as you'll see.

[Raul]

I was very much thrown for a loop there, though, i think i may have already figured this out.

That beginning was very abrupt, and stood out, something is weird. But girl in coma, the rings, and Sunny with her semblance? Yeah i have a few ideas. Now Trixie and Glimmer are the loose cannons though, curious how they’ll be significant.

[Stet709]

Given that Starlight was considered a candidate for the Winter Maiden, she might be privy to Oz's secret society.

Also, Emerald, you contemptuous apathetic asshole! Don't think you have the moral high ground just because Sunset is a huntress(-in-training) and you're not (a huntsman)! Could you be a little more sympathetic to the fact that Sunset was in a difficult situation? It might be part of the job, but not every huntsman or huntress has a martyr complex like Ruby!