• Published 17th Oct 2020
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The Moon Has Two Faces - Ether Echoes



Light Breeze fears what awaits her in dreams, and Princess Luna struggles to help her.

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Chapter 4 - Tilting the Scales

Getting up required Owen to push aside a heavy weight. His whole body fought it, but a beeping from elsewhere in the thin-walled apartment dragged him back to the world whether he wanted to or not. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't experiencing the confusion that had typified the last few days, but, rather than fade into the background, the memories had become starker than ever before. Aside from the way the sleeping medicine still rendered him groggy and listless and that strange abyss, an unbroken line of Light Breeze's thoughts and memories stretched behind him.

Looking around, he felt no less horror at his circumstances than she had ten minutes ago. Most of all, he missed the fact that he couldn't just run over to River Wind and Star Seeker's room to take a quick breath of comfort before facing what lay outside his room.

At the least, he had gained an extra eight hours thanks to her. When he leaned over and felt at the desk for his laptop, though, his hand passed through where it had been and found the charger instead. Panic lending a little more wakefulness, he dug his hand between the mattress and the wall and sighed in relief as Jaime's smartphone came up.

The sight of the time—5:41 am—left him aghast, and he checked the date to be certain. He hadn't been entirely sure when he'd gone to bed, but Light Breeze had been up for just over twenty-four hours, and he couldn't have been asleep for more than twelve.

As he thought about it, though, it did seem unlikely that his mother would have let him sleep through school, and it lent more credence to his—Light Breeze's?—firm belief that it was real. The two blurred together, and he wasn't sure if that was the drugs or something else, but he pushed those concerns aside. Dropping Jaime and Aisha a quick text to let them know that things hadn't gone as they'd hoped, he grabbed a notebook and got to work writing. He didn't know what they could possibly do about it, but the process let him dwell more on the brightness of her life and delay his own darkness.

"Sun and Moon," he muttered, rubbing his face. "What I wouldn't give for Arc Light to yell at."

Looking down at his hands in the wan light from his window as he wrote, he shuddered and shoved them under the covers for a bit, wishing desperately that he could see her family and friends again. He didn't finish writing before it was time to go, but he would have first and second period.

He remained groggy as he ate cereal for breakfast, ignoring the buzz of his family. His mother caught him as he was getting ready to go, though, frowning and tugging at his hair, checking the length. It had almost grown out to his shoulders. "This has got to go."

"What?" He jerked his head over to where Jeremiah sat, hunched with his phone hidden, his own brighter blond hair falling past mid-back. "Jerm's hair is way longer! You can't just shear me; I'm not a sheep!" He ignored his brother's glare, pleading eyes fixing on his mother's.

"You should have thought of that before you almost tore this house apart. Jeremiah is a good boy, so he gets what he wants. We can and we will do whatever it takes to rein you in."

He tried to put all of Light Breeze's adorable filly sympathy into it, a quavering note underlying. It came so easily. "Please, Mom? I'm sorry about last night. I was just hurting so bad, and the nurse kept asking so many questions…"

Her sternness melted just a smidge and she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Fine, whatever. Get going to school, both of you."

Owen ran, more to keep ahead of Jeremiah than out of fear of being late. His back twitched painfully, and every step that landed on his heels reminded him that he didn't have hooves anymore. He even careened into a wall in his haste, his balance thrown without a tail, and yelped as he almost fell down the stairs.

He couldn't wait for the day to be over. The sooner he could get through school and get home, the sooner he could get back to sleep. If he was lucky, he could pass out during class for a while. He knew he couldn't safely abuse the NyQuil forever, but stars help him if he wasn't tempted.

Knowing that the time he spent in one world didn't impact the time he spent in the other suggested he could tilt the scales. The less time he spent in this life, the better.


Owen had less than a week until his self-imposed deadline, and he spent every spare opportunity he could trying to sleep it off along the way. He napped in class, passed out in the bathrooms at school during breaks, and kept to his room as much as possible when at home. It didn't always work—more often than not, he just dozed fitfully, like when he tried to set an alarm at midnight on Wednesday to try and double his time, but just wound up tossing in bed for hours—but, every so often, he felt the abyss pull him back down and welcomed its embrace like an old friend. When it worked, it didn’t matter if a teacher chewed him out later in class, or his father lightly slapped him awake after passing out on the couch before dinner; so long as the dream pulled him under, Light Breeze woke up fresh and clear and got in a full day before turning in.

For her part, Light Breeze was doing her best to live to the fullest. She poked fun at Arc Light just to get into a fight, so she could apologize and hug him as tight as she could, and went to all of her extensive friends’ houses and tried different games. She got her mother to take her out flying on the regular so she could feel the wind and practice for the day her wings would be strong enough to carry her into the sky and formal practice could begin. When she could get away with it, she stayed up late reading or watching the night crews fly over Fillydelphia, clearing the weather for the next day. She even made plans to hop on a train and visit her mother’s parents on the coast, but had to put that off until the planned snowstorms would end. Together, they managed to stretch five of his days into almost two weeks of hers, leaving Nightmare Night in the dust on one end and Halloween barely over on the other.

Pushing her bedtime hours left her sleepy and cranky during the day as she fought to minimize the hours she had to spend asleep, but it seemed a small price, all things considered. Whenever Owen was stung by a negative comment or treated callously or roughly, it wasn’t as though there was some barrier between them she could hide behind. His parents didn’t put up a huge fuss when he started eating dinner in his room, and his father didn’t touch him, perhaps fearing another investigation so soon, but the air had turned decisively against Owen, and he had nothing but cold looks from his family. She carried those insults with her into the day, and exorcising the resulting demons became her primary occupation.

“Light?” A nudge came at her shoulder. “Light Breeze, you’re drifting again.”

“Gah!” Light Breeze squeaked and tumbled over into the snow, stiff-legged. Her eyes had been glazed as they focused on the grey sky, and her friends giggled as she picked herself up and shook, splattering them.

Silver Dust laughed and squealed, shielding herself from the spray with a hoof. Her horn sparked in a futile attempt to conjure a shield, and she wiped down her arctic white coat, a few specks gleaming in her snowflake patterned blue scarf and long sapphire mane. It only made her prettier, really, which seemed like it should be impossible, which made her jealous, which just made her prettier still. “Hey!”

“Sorry.” She yawned heavily, her wings stretching wide as she arched her back. "Must have, uh, faded out a second there."

"You're not kidding," their quiet voiced friend, Soda Pop, said, his own wine coloring stark against the snow scattered over the yard. Older kids were having a snowball war, forts erected in one corner. "You've been, ah, kinda out of it all day."

"Have I?" Light Breeze stuffed a hoof into her mouth as she yawned again, and shuddered as a wave of exhaustion passed through her. "I guess I have. I should probably do a lap or something.

"Or you could nap for a bit?"

"No! No, that would just—" She broke off with a squeak as a griffon boy landed a pace or two away. It hadn't been a full flight so much as a long jump, but he was a few months older and had already started flight school from the looks of it. "Oh, uhm… hi? Can I help you?"

"Hey," he said, brushing back his spiked, dark feathers. He had deep coloring in his plumage and sharp, arresting eyes. "Aren't you that filly who ordered a turkey burger at the Hoof and Claw a couple weeks ago? I'm pretty sure that was you."

Silver Dust and Soda Pop stared at her as she giggled and blushed. "Y-yeah, guilty. That was me."

"Pretty sweet. I've never seen a pony eat like that before. You tore that thing to pieces like a born carnivore." He extended a closed claw. "That's pretty cool in my book."

Feeling a little giddy, her feathers splaying, she bumped her hoof against his knuckles. “Thanks. You’re, let me see if I got it… Jake, right?”

“I thought all griff—” Soda Pop began, cutting off when she hip-checked him.

“Yeah! That’s me. We don’t share any classes, but I’ve seen you around, uh…”

“Light Breeze,” she said brightly. “You know, I’ve got my birthday coming up in a few weeks. You should come! My mom’s a fishermare, so I can guarantee you’ll get something fresh if I tell her you’re coming. And, you know, you’re free to hang out with me whenever.” She stretched, as though trying to show off her wing muscle development. “Though, right now, I think I’m going to go for a run or something.”

“I’d dig that.” He lifted his wings and jerked his head over towards some griffon kids peering at him from the side of the school, colorful cards dotting the ground before them. “I kinda blew off a match to come say hi, so I should head on back anyway.”

“Oh! Is that Pokemon?” She leaned up on her hooftips for a better look, pegasus eyes focusing.

“Uh… what’s… Pokemon?” Suddenly he was the one embarrassed, not wanting to sound like he didn’t know something cool.

“Ah! I mean, uh—” She turned bright red. “Monstrakrieg? From the griffon kingdoms.”

“Yeah! That’s the one. You play?”

“No, but I’d like to learn sometime.”

“Cool. Come by whenever you feel up to it. Don’t worry.” He flared his wings, kicking off into the air to glide back to the others. “We don’t bite!”

Soda Pop stared after him, frowning with his wavy tail lashing. “Did he just fly, like, forty paces he could have easily walked?” He turned to peer at Light Breeze suspiciously. “Are you…? You’re giving him an awful weird look, Light.”

Silver Dust blinked, her head turning from Light Breeze to the griffons in their corner and back. “I didn’t think it was odd. That’s just the look she gives me like six times a day.”

The silence from Soda Pop was deafening.

“Hah!” Light Breeze’s wings puffed up. “Well! I should, woof…” She made it a few steps away across the cold ground and felt her heart race a little as she caught herself. “Maybe pass on the run.”

“I’ll say.” Silver Dust came up to her and put the back of her hock against her neck. “You’re very chilly for a pegasus right now, Light. Why don’t we head inside and warm up?”

Biting back another yawn, she nodded and let them lead the way. They came to a rest area with wide, backless lounging chairs, and she settled onto one. Silver Dust laid out on her side while Light Breeze propped on her haunches, and Soda Pop settled on the edge. “You haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been sleeping great.” Light Breeze hesitated, her wits unwinding as Silver Dust faced her squarely. “Well… I guess I’ve been staying up late a lot. I’ve been working on a project.”

“Is that what I see you writing all the time?” Soda Pop asked, getting out an apple to munch on. “You’re so shy about it; it’s not like you. Normally you just blurt whatever you’re thinking at the top of your lungs.”

Coughing, Light Breeze nodded. “Yeah, that. It’s, uhm… it’s about my dreams.”

“Really?” Silver Dust shifted upright. “Could I see?”

Lightning crashed through her nerves at the thought, her wings lifted defensively. “N-no! I… it’s not ready. I’m still working on it.”

Her ears laid flat, but she nodded. Or so Light Breeze assumed, anyway, as she found herself laying across Dust's midsection and yawning perilously.

"Aww." She giggled. "Look who's a sleepy little horse."

"Yuh huh. Hey, Silver? Your mom's an apothecary, right?"

"Yeah?" She brushed her mane back to look at her.

"Could I ask for a stay-awake potion?" Her head drooped, and she pulled it up. "I can pay with my allowance. I already checked, and I guess that's not over the counter."

"It isn't. It can be dangerous if used too much." Silver Dust frowned and thumped her tail against the couch. "Are you sure? Is your project that important?"

"I…" She shifted her hooves. "I just don't want to see my dreams that much."

Before she could hear her answer, though, she faded, blipping out of existence between one heartbeat and the next.


Owen jolted faintly, face pressed to one of his journals at a secluded table out beneath a bare tree. Some of the ink had smeared, and he rubbed the side of his face with a sleeve groggily.

"So," Tim said from the side, holding one of the journals, "this is what you've been dreaming about?"

"Hey!" Swiping for it didn't work. He subconsciously had his fingers pressed straight out, as though he still had a hoof. "That's private!"

"Light Breeze, huh? And 'Fillydelphia.'" He crinkled his nose as if at a bad smell. "Are you for real?"

His second attempt was more successful, snatching it back and hugging it to his chest. "I don't get to decide what I dream about."

"That's for sure. You dream of a old-timey version of the city filled with cute little ponies instead of something badass." Tim pulled out his phone. "Why are you a girl?"

Owen blushed darkly and stared at the table. "I guess that's just how it worked out. I've been doing it my whole life. How long was I out?"

"Like five minutes? Dunno, you were passed out when I got here."

"Well, over there I just spent like six hours in that five minute time, and I'm kind of in a hurry to get back." He started to shovel the journals back in. He wasn't worried about losing his place, since each was labeled and numbered. "Not that I will, I guess. Once I'm up, it's hard to get back to dreaming again."

Tim watched him doubtfully. "You remember back in 4th grade, this kid, Reagan? He told me about a secret version of Skyrim that only he had access to, one that was way more complicated and had the whole continent with complicated decisions and characters who actually seemed to have lives. I bought every line until you told me he was stringing me along with a story."

"That was Reagan. He was a pathological liar or something." Owen felt at the fabric of his backpack. "It feels as real as anything here. Light Breeze's life feels real. If you read that whole journal, you'll see. Every time I just pick up where I left off."

"I dunno, man. I think you might just be nuts."

Owen flinched, turning to look deliberately at kids playing handball against the wall of the gym. "Even if I was, you shouldn't use that word. It's not helpful to the mentally ill."

"Aisha and Jaime tell you that?" Tim asked dryly. "You know everyone here knows that they're totally schizoid, right? They're completely crazy, and from all your little chats it sounds like they're buying into this fantasy."

"I don't give a fuck what everypony thinks!" Owen rounded on him, making him jolt back a bit. "They're better friends than you've ever been! No one on this side of the abyss treats me like they do." Owen choked up and groaned, pressing his face into his hands. "I wish I could stay forever, even if it meant saying goodbye to them. I have friends over there, people who like and care about me. I hate it here. It's disgusting."

"Every… pony. Okay." Tim didn't run off just then, adjusting his jacket as if to cover for his fright. "All you got is a radio in your house. Barely anyone has a TV, only video games are in an arcade. Their technology sounds way behind."

"Who gives a shit?" Owen pointed at the camps outside, already thinning as some of the homeless started to migrate to warmer pastures. "What good is technology if no one's using it to help others? Most of the profits go to lining the bank accounts of jerks who don't need it. At least over there, I know I'll have a career that will be fulfilling instead of some pointless, menial task for the rest of my life, and even if I fall on hard times, no one hesitates to give you room and board anyway."

"Sounds like a utopia that could never happen."

"I don't care. I don't believe that, either—humans cooperate just fine when they don't have an oppressive system around them or toxic bullshit." Owen sighed, slumping. "We could all benefit from dreaming about being colorful horses, in my opinion."

"You talk like you aren't one." As Owen didn't answer, Tim's frown deepened. "Fine, whatever. I know none of you like me very much, but you're my only real friend, and I'm telling you that you need to stop whatever it is you're doing. My uncle is a therapist; one of the best in the city. I'm sure if I ask, he'll give you sliding scale, maybe even free for a few sessions. This is delusional."

Deep down, Owen very much wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the best parts of him disagreed. Even unlikely people can become friends, given faith, and if there's any grace of magic within him, it would come from friendship.

Besides, he still nursed a little doubt, even as the lines between him and Light Breeze had become progressively more blurred.

"Tomorrow morning, when we're supposed to have PE, I'm going to present all of my journals to the Gaines sibs," he said at last. "Jaime believes me, Aisha is on the fence, and you can be the neighsayer. If you can see all of my evidence and make a compelling case, I will take you up on your offer." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not always a great friend, either. I've been avoiding you all week over this."

"S'fine," he muttered, a little shy in the face of Equestrian sincerity. "Whatever, dork. I'll see you then, then."

"Yeah."


Using techniques to sleep more effectively, Owen managed to get two good sessions in with Light Breeze, and with the addition of a keep-awake potion stretched four hours into almost five days. It left him positively glowing, if a little tired, as he turned up to the kitchen to make his dinner before the others showed up.

Having five days behind him and a screwed up sleeping schedule left him a little confused as to what was going on with his human family, not that he cared. Vaguely, he was aware that his parents had been fighting. Seeing a calendar and realizing that it was only Thursday was jarring, but he got over it.

From the back of the counter he grabbed the little crock pot that only he used—set before his last three day break—extracting the squash he'd been breaking down for a pasta, and started cooking mushrooms and spinach in a pan while a pot of noodles boiled. He—or, rather, Light Breeze—had asked her parents for cooking lessons, and he smiled as he remembered how bad at it he'd been just a few days ago, burning a big mushroom they didn't have on Earth and forgetting the rice. He wasn't a gourmet by any means, but he'd gone from frozen, lifeless bean burritos to making a squash ragu in under a day from a human perspective.

"That smells amazing. Mom, what are you…?" Jeremiah came from the hallway and stopped, glaring. "Oh, it's just you."

"It's just me." Owen dumped the pasta, reserving a cup, recalling as he did his dad teaching him about reserving some of the starchy water to thicken the sauce. Not even his hated brothers could bring him down now, not unless they punched him.

Jeremiah set his phone down on the back of the couch, locking it, but not before Owen caught a glimpse of an image that he really wished he hadn't. It was weird, since it was all the way across the room, but he could make out a scrap of text and a rather suggestive image. "I don't see where you get off being so smug. Our parents are fighting because of you."

"Good?" He licked the spoon. Needed more salt. His mother had used her wings, just the tip of one feather, to distribute the perfect amount of salt on a dish. He would have to make do with his disgusting fingers. "Why should I care? Why should you care, Jerm? You called CPS on him last year. Maybe May's finally seeing sense. Little too late for me to give a shit."

For a moment as he watched his little brother putter around the kitchen with a skip in his step, Jeremiah seemed dumbfounded. "That was wrong, and you know it. He's hardworking. He doesn't give a shit about liberal hand-wringing about time-outs. He's teaching us to survive in the real world, like real men."

Owen's ear twitched. Though it couldn't move, he knew what it meant. He waited until he could hear the keys in the lock, and then he turned to regard Jeremiah with a cold gaze. "Oh, yeah? Do real men look at furry porn on their phones? Are you the little stag or the big one?"

His face went white, and he sputtered, but he couldn't dare say or do a thing as Frank stepped inside.

Jeremiah's father was a big man, and even when it wasn't a holiday his breath usually smelled like beer after a shift. He was surlier—and earlier—than usual as he shucked his coat. "May? What's that smell? Are you making rabbit food for the—" He broke off at the sight of Owen. "Oh. It's just you."

May bustled in from the hall. "I'm getting dinner ready; don't get your panties in a bunch." She paused to stare at Owen's work in the kitchen. "You better not be ruining any of my good pans. I expect you to clean that up."

"I'll get out of your mane in just a sec." Owen huffed and mixed the pasta in with the sauce, letting them simmer together before dumping the lot into a large, glass container. "I'll clean up tonight. You were going to make sloppy joes, so all you need is the big saucepan, anyways."

As he made his way back to his room, a meaty hand grabbed his shoulder, and he looked up to find Frank glaring at him. "Don't you talk to your mother like that. You heard her. She said to clean the pots, and, when we ask you something, we expect you to do it yesterday."

"I've got it handled, Frank." May put her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"Oh, really?" Frank growled. "Then would you care to explain why my son is such a disrespectful little princess? You're coddling these kids, May."

"Oh, and your way is working so much better? Not going to be much of a provider if you get thrown in jail. I'm all for spanking, but you're taking it too far."

Light Breeze had asked her parents if they ever spanked, having no memory of it. They'd had no idea what she was talking about, and so she'd had to explain. The notion of ever striking their kids or touching them in a rough way filled them with such revulsion they had turned several shades of green. They had asked which of her friends was being treated like that, so they could rescue them at once.

She hadn't had the heart to tell them that it was her, nor that it was worse than spanking, nor that there wasn't a thing they could do about it if they did know.

What he'd really have liked to have done was slip away in the fight, but Frank kept his grip firm, and so he went back to the kitchen and ate in snatches alongside doing the dishes. Jeremiah just sat in the corner of the room and pretended he heard nothing.

In the process, he was able to sneak another dose of NyQuil. He finished the bottle, in fact, which was probably for the best considering that he had been using it nightly, and put it back rather than risk being noticed throwing it out. He needed to look up how long he could safely use it sometime.

Assuming he cared enough to use it safely.

“Boy,” his father ordered, “come over here. Sit at the table; we’re going to eat like a family.”

The scent of ground beef inexpertly simmered in ketchup made his stomach do flips, and the NyQuil was already kicking in hard, but he didn’t see a way out of it. Taking his bowl of pasta, he scooped out a bit more onto a small plate and packed the rest away into the fridge, then brought it over with a glass of water.

“What even is that?” May asked, looking at the clumpy orange mass on his plate studded with pasta. He’d not really done it as perfectly as his father had shown him, but it came out delicious anyway.

“Squash ragu with mushrooms.” He did his best not to make eye contact with anypony and to breathe through his mouth alone.

“Where’d you learn to make that? I’ve never seen you cook anything more complicated than canned beans.”

“A dream.”

Adam spat his drink back into his cup, laughing. “Good one. No shit?”

“Don’t swear,” May snapped.

“The boy can swear if he wants to, May.” Frank took a long swig of his beer. “He just got into Liberty on a football scholarship. They won’t let him say a damned thing out of line there. Just the sort of thing you need, not one of those places where they brainwash you.”

Maybe it was all that time he was spending as Light Breeze, or maybe it was the need to be hypervigilant to look out for warning signs in Frank, but it seemed that Adam’s glance to the side was a little more evasive than it should have been. “That’s right, Dad. They’re pretty strict still. Don’t worry about me; I’ll keep on the good path.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Frank cast a doubtful look at the other side of the table, where Jeremiah and Owen sat. “Some of my boys don’t seem inclined to take their futures seriously. I know you haven’t been doing your homework, Owen, and I don't even know what to say about you, Jeremiah.”

With the NyQuil dulling his senses Owen should have been more afraid, but he sat up and looked Frank in the eye. Maybe it was just some good old-fashioned pegasus verve giving him bravery. “Jeremiah’s fine. He’s in AP classes, and he has a decent chance of getting a scholarship if he doesn’t drink himself into addiction, something you don’t seem inclined to put any brakes on.”

It was like he could feel his feathers puffing up defensively, setting his feet wide under the table like a battle stance. It was all he could do not to snort defiantly, and he failed to notice the growing silence around the table. “All you ever seem to care about is how masculine we are. If Jeremiah or I act the least bit effeminate, you stomp on that like you’re trying to put out a fire. Do you think punishing him every time he looks at guys the wrong way is going to keep him from growing up gay, or whatever he is? Does it really make you feel like the big head stallion of the herd to stomp on whoever is the least bit different?”

Frank’s face grew more and more red as Owen went on. When Owen stopped, he slammed his hand into the table, rattling the cups and making everyone jump. “How dare you? You don’t get to talk like that to your father!”

“You’re not my father!” Owen snapped back, slamming his forelegs—his hands—into the table. “My real father is loving, caring, sweet, and wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone his own foals, and you are none of those things!”

His first flicker of fear came as Frank, banging his knee in his haste, scrambled to his feet. He hissed with pain, and May jumped up as well. “Frank? Don’t you dare. If they come into this house again, it’s going to look bad.” Not “you shouldn’t hurt our child” or “this is wrong,” nor any of the other things she should have said.

“You heard what that little shit said to me!”

“I did, and he is going to know it.” She pointed down the hall. “You go right down to your room, and you had better be praying.”

Owen didn’t need an invitation. He practically ran down the hall, and would have galloped if the means were available to him, slamming himself in and quaking on the bed. He immediately burrowed beneath it, knowing that there was only one escape. Despite his pounding heart, the chemicals along with counting and breathing exercises dragged him down past the abyss.


Light Breeze’s eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest as she clutched the covers of her bed with her hooves. She whimpered and sobbed quietly into the sheets.

“I can’t go back,” she whispered. “I won’t. I’ll stay here with my real family forever.” She sniffled and choked. “I’m sorry, Jaime and Aisha. I hope I never get a chance to see you two again. I’ll miss you.”

Kicking off the sheets, she went to start herself a shower so she could continue to cry in peace and begin planning how to stay awake forever.

Author's Note:

This is a sad one :<

There's a silver lining to every cloud, though. We just have to remember that it's always darkest before the dawn.

Let me know what you think in the comments below - I love detailed comments from readers, the more the better!