Hand in Hoof

by AdamThePony

Chapter 11: Sinking Shadows and Rising Suns

Chapter 11: Sinking Shadows and Rising Suns

As I left the Midnight Lounge, I was treated to the sight of the hallway, in all its utilitarian glory. I suppose it would fit that such a boring hall would be the one that I walk. Having no other options, I made my way across and greeted the elevator once more. With that same chime that they made before, the doors slid open, welcoming me inside. I glided my hand across the frame as I stepped inside, holding onto the railing as the doors shut before me.

As I slouched against the railing, the panel of buttons caught my attention again. Upon further inspection, I had discovered that there were at least twenty-two numbered keys, not counting the changing moon button at the top or the typical array of buttons at the bottom. The majority of them were written in the same font as the one found on the face of Ponyville’s clock tower, with most of them dim, with the sole exception of the eighteenth button. Though I will go on record that I am not exactly an expert in the field of divination, the fact that this particular light was apparently on when I entered was fairly telling. It made me wonder just who had been in here before me. My only choices were either to stall the elevator by pressing another button, or to simply wait it out. Though neither choice was particularly enticing, I chose the lesser of two annoyances and let it proceed downward.

Another chime sounded, and the doors opened shortly thereafter.

Before me now was a much colder hallway, which ended at a wooden door. The door seemed rather old, and bore a queer-looking knob. It appeared to be made of brass, and was spherical, as opposed to the flat lever shape most doors in Equestria were known to sport. Flecks of decaying paint seemed to be peeling away with merely my stare alone. The doors behind me had already shut, and curiosity bore at me like a starving wolf.

"I suppose I don't have much choice but to see what's inside," I murmured to myself as I turned the knob.

The door opened a crack, a single finger of light creeping across the floor of the room. It tapped lightly against the room's centerpiece: an empty crib. My ears pricked at the sound of a gentle crying, echoing throughout the room. They were not the wails of a forlorn babe, nor were they the shrieks of a scorned toddler. The sound of muffled, fearful sobs came from the center of the room.

As I cast a glance from side to side, searching for some source to the weeping, I opened the door ever so slightly. A single step into the room increased my vulnerability, but also gave me precious, precious information. The volume of the sobbing remained unchanged.. A single bulb hung above me, the light dim and flashing. I gave a whispered curse at the damage my night vision would suffer from its flickering. I approached the cradle, peripheral vision focused and sharp, and leaned over the plastic bars carefully.

A single doll lay in the bed, discarded and dirty. Ragged ears hung from a moldy, half-stitched head. Patches of the skin were missing, most of the stuffing missing. And still a voice came from the crib, sniveling to itself. I swallowed as I picked the doll up.

That was when I heard footsteps approaching from the door.

Facing me now was what appeared to be a small child. His countenance was a ghostly pallor, his skin as pale as moonlight. His hair was deeper shade of brown to my own, almost to the point of being black as pitch. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, as if he'd not been laid to rest in years. Yet, what appeared to be the most distinct contrast between the two of us were the uncannily bright pair of blue eyes he wore. A shade of great saturation and brightness, they shone almost like those a cat would have. And yet, though his irises were in great relief, he seemed to lack any pupils; only a dark gradient where such things could have been.

Neither of us made an attempt at conversation. Perhaps it was out of fear of what the other would say in response. Perhaps this child of indeterminate origin was as timid of me as I was in turn. Whatever the reason, the sobbing persisted. He looked to me blankly, his lips halfway between smiling and frowning as he extended an arm to me. His finger was aimed at the doll I now had hanging limp by an arm in my off hand. In turn, I knelt down to meet him at eye level, presenting the disheveled doll to him. Much like how a dog might grasp a treat from his master, the child took hold of the toy in ravenous trepidation.

"They're coming, you know," he whispered in low monotone.

My eyes grew wide as I looked to the child in disbelief. "Who?"

The child became silent again. Not another word past those four came across his lips as he turned his head toward the nearby window. He remained quiet as a mouse, simply staring out. Then, upon approach, he vanished. His form collapsed into dust, miscellaneous bones, and what looked to be rocks of sidereal origin.

As I turned to better observe what he was viewing, I caught sight of the moon. Though it was full, something was clearly off. It seemed larger than I'd previously known it to be. The normally white celestial body had been tinted a shade more green and appeared to have a small corona glowing off of it. Its maria were far more visible, yet seemed to be fading the closer I looked.

Turning back, I walked briskly to the elevator, being prudent not to step in the remains of the child. The door shut behind me as I made my way down the hall. An urge to hasten myself took control as I mashed my finger onto the singular button on the panel next to me. As the doors opened, I darted inside like a rabbit ducking into a burrow. I hammered the button to close the door with great fervor, hoping it would seal me away from any further madness.

At first, I heaved a sigh of relief as the din of the elevator's descent filled my ears. Then, in an instant, the whole thing jerked to a halt. The screeching of metal against metal and the whine of a failing pulley shivered my timbers like a banshee's cry. My heart rate shot up as I hugged the railing, hoping it would give me something to hang onto.

And then, with a lashing snap, my body began to float to the ceiling. I hung desperately to the rail, my legs raising up as I hooked my arm around as best I could. My grip, though tight, was already beginning to falter, my fingers gradually slipping away. Try as I might, I couldn't hold on for much longer. Eventually, as I felt my tips tense up, I returned to free fall, unable to find anything else to brace myself against. I found myself trying to reach the ceiling and pop open the emergency hatch.

And yet, no matter how hard I tugged or pushed, the latch of the hatch just wouldn't budge. As much as I wished to do so, I couldn't get the thing to move. With each failed attempt, I felt more and more desperation sink into my heart. The lights began to dim, and my resolve began to fade with it. A bone-chilling sensation of dread poured inside of me as darkness began to cloud my sight, sapping away at my resolve little by little...

And then, as if from nowhere, a voice rang in my head. A voice similar to, yet equally distinct from my own.

Don’t forget.

Always, somewhere,

someone is fighting for you.

As long as you remember her,

you are not alone.

A thud rang in my ears. The sound of metal being ripped apart roused me from my lethargy. In the vaguest periphery of my vision, I saw the faint appearance of a hand grasp my arm. Though I was barely conscious, I could feel a tight, yet tender grip pulling me out from that accursed contraption. Then, as my head broke the surface of the emergency hatch, all became clear again.

A loud crash rang through the shaft, and I found myself floating above the wreckage of what could have very well been my coffin, were it not for the mysterious figure's intervention. As I looked around, not a single trace of my savior remained, save for the chill of snowflakes grazing my shape. As I lifted my face in search of whomever helped to spare me from my doom, all that awaited was a radiant mass of lavender light at the top.

As it dragged my body forward, I felt a warm embrace surround me, covering every inch of my body as I was consumed by it's star-like power.

***

I woke with a start to a whistling wind and a crackling flame. A brisk breeze brushed my chest as I was slowly into consciousness. Quickly, I righted myself and put on my shirt and coat, making sure everything fit snugly. My beret quickly followed, and as I made my exit from the now-empty tent, I flicked my scarf across my face.

A mild tension welcomed me as I saw my companions surrounding a fire. As the crunch of snow resounded, Napalm tittered, her gaze fixed upon me.

"Hey there, monkey boy," she chuckled, holding a hoof to her mouth. "Enjoy your night with—"

Spike quickly stayed the earth pony's tongue with a jab of her shoulder.

"What we did last night is none of your business," Spike grumbled. "It was just a personal moment between brothers."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Napalm muttered.

The changeling queen's eyes went wide as saucers as she saw my face.

"Goodness, child!" she, looking upon me closer. "You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

"To be honest, I'm starting to think I did," I replied.

"Care to tell us about it?" Roughshod mumbled as he balanced himself on a cane.

I nodded as Spike handed me a mug of cocoa.

"Careful," the dragon warned. "It's hot."

I nodded as I took a sip.

From there, I began to recount in as accurate a detail as possible my recent dream. As I'm sure you're aware, dreams can often be quite difficult to remember in full detail, unless you happen to have eidetic memory. Given what I experienced, however, it would be pretty difficult to forget. To be honest, the way I was able to describe what I experienced made me wonder why I chose to be a soldier instead of an orator or bard. I could tell that my traveling company was more than a bit at intrigued the events I detailed to them.

"Well, Luna visiting ponies in their dreams is nothing really new," Spike stated. "Though, I don't think I've ever heard of her setting up some lounge just to have a personal talk with somepony before."

"Nor have I ever heard of a child that looked remotely like what you just described," Roughshod rumbled. "To me, it seems like a personal problem."

"There's definitely something personal about that spirit you mentioned, too," Spike noted. "This is the second time you've had a dream involving her so far. There has to be some connection between her and you."

I nodded, looking longingly into my cup of cocoa before taking another gulp.

"What gets me is what the boy said," I replied. "What could he mean by 'they're coming"?’ Who could he be referring to?""

"Well, considering he was pointing to the moon, there's only one thing it could be," Roughshod grunted.

"And that would be?" The queen asked, her brow quirked up.

"The Nightmares," Spike spat sourly.

Our attention was now fully on Spike by this point. I'll admit, I was probably the most curious by Spike's conclusion, and I doubt I was alone in wanting to see where it went.

“Where do you get an idea like that?” Napalm asked, essentially mirroring our collective thoughts.

“It’s happened before,” the dragon began. “A good few moons ago, Twilight and her Ponyville friends were having really bad nightmares. Nopony could get any sleep, so we decided to have a sleepover as a means of figuring out just what the hay was going on.

“Everything went pretty well that night, until we started falling asleep. That was when Rarity started screaming and woke us all up. We could barely see it, but she was being swallowed up by this eerie black smoke, and she disappeared into the moonlight. We didn’t know what to do until Luna showed up. We hooked a big rope to the moon and—”

“Now wait a minute,” Napalm interrupted. “You’re telling me that instead of teleporting to the moon, you took a big rope and just lassoed the moon closer?”

“Have you ever tried teleporting to the moon,” Spike refuted. “It isn’t exactly a close target. Not to mention, they could have had something that prevented direct magical contact to to the place. If we actually tried, we may have ended up starved for air and burned alive in the vacuum of space.”

I gulped, trying to keep my brain from composing the image of six hollow, burned bodies scattered on the lunar maria.

“Anyway, we hooked a big rope to the moon and used it to enter the Lunar Dreamscape,” Spike continued, “There, we encountered the Nightmares in pony. They tried to force us into submission by showing us our worst fears. Thankfully, none of us were willing to give an inch. That was, until Rarity showed up, looking just like Nightmare Moon! She was everything my darling wasn’t, and she nearly drove us all apart. If it weren’t for our strong bonds, we may have lost against them long before they took the fight to Ponyville.”

“Fair enough, but what does this have to do with my nightmare?” I asked.

“Well, think about that spirit we fought yesterday,” Spike replied. “Maybe that spirit was a Nightmare.”

“If that’s the case, then what was it doing inside of an axe?” the queen quipped.

“That’s simple,” Spike said. “It must have not been able to live inside another living thing, so it put itself in that axe. Then, when it got destroyed in our fight, he splintered off and part of it must have gotten onto you."

My eyes shot wide open when Spike concluded his theory. I clutched a hand to my chest, unsure of how to respond. A chilling fear took me as I kept my eyes on the dragon. Was I contagious? Was I in danger? I didn’t know what to think. I’d never been told about the horror of a Nightmare, and yet the very thought of having one inside me was harrowing.

“So what can be done?” I asked, my heart feeling very hollow in my breast.

“I’m not sure, Lance,” Spike responded. “The last two times that this happened, both Luna and Rarity were almost completely taken over. Heck, it took an army to both drive back the Nightmare forces and cleanse Rarity, and we’re just a ragtag bunch of misfits! Granted, Twilight and the gals weren’t exactly fighters to begin with, but it wasn’t exactly easy either way.”

“Then is there at least some way to prevent it?” I asked, worry beginning to build up inside of me.

"There's not much that can be done," the queen replied. "Just as we are creatures who feed upon love, the Nightmares exude and propagate hatred and fear. We do not yet know for sure if you're under the thrall of one, however."

It was then that the queen left a hoof upon my shoulder.

"If it is advice that you seek, I can offer you only this," she whispered. "Keep yourself in high esteem. These creatures will exploit any weakness and make any bargain they can to assume control. Do not, under any circumstances, show weakness to them. Fill yourself with hope and chase away the specter of despair."

As I looked upon the queen, she had taken the guise of a crystal pony, her body shining, shimmering, and splendid. Her coat was a bright amethyst, her eyes a slightly darker shade. Her mane was wispy, a gradient of pink and violet that swept across her back. For whatever reason, it reminded me of a blooming wisteria.

“The Nightmare is a beast that will wait until you’re weakest, Lance,” the queen continued. “Don’t let it have that opportunity. Even to your final breaths, stand tall and wear a smile. Save your tears for the end and set your fears to the wayside. Defy the will of fate and carve your own path.”

To be completely honest, the rhetoric of the queen was starting to seem rather odd. Though it did lift my spirits considerably, the way she seemed to speak brought to mind a wizened mystic more than a reagent displaced from her home. I assumed she took the form of a crystal pony to establish a sort of “hope springs eternal” message. Though most of it seemed superfluous, the point was made, and we prepared to set off shortly thereafter.

Once we’d packed up, we set along the mountain trail and began to make idle chatter to pass the time. Though it was not as arduous as I’d expected, the wind chill was definitely a formidable force. It brought back to light old memories of having to endure the cold winds of the Crystal Empire bereft of my clothes at Uncle Shining Armor’s behest. Though it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, the feeling of exposure from those days was wearing at me, making me yearn more for the warmth of civilization. Failing that, some form of sanctuary better than our makeshift camp would do us all a world of good.

***

For most of our trek, we were unmolested, but we found ourselves stopped in our tracks at the sight of a strange mare standing at the nearby vista. Her form was tall and lithe, almost like a nymph in structure. The majority of her upper body was covered in a lavender cloak, her face hidden by a high collar. Save a wisp of golden locks, her head was masked by a hood. The cloak itself wasn’t even a particularly large one, either. Just large enough to reach down at the waist, revealing that it was in fact a biped like myself. I could see brief glimpses of her mane tied up behind her, a small portion poking out from her cloak and flowing onto her tan tabard. She was also sporting chainmail, as well as what could only be half-plate greaves and gauntlets.

On one of her hips, a scabbard hung limply, a sword resting inside away from the cold. However, in the mare’s off-hand was a spear. The shaft was made of a particular wood that I’d recognized as being native to the Empire, with an edge styled after the spoke of a snowflake, with a center blade and two smaller blades jutting out from it. Etched into its shaft was a spiraling pattern shaped like the winter winds, while its blades carried a strange runic pattern. The scabbard was a bold crimson, contrasting to most of her outfit.

There was something…familiar about this mare, but I couldn’t point my finger on what. All I could do was try to make contact with her, spurred with eagerness.

“Excuse me, miss,” I called out calmly, waving my hand. “Are you lost?”

The mare’s head crooked over to me, her spear turning in suit. I could feel some odd sense of pressure coming off her body. I could see a vague tuft of white frills across her hood, and an ephemeral flash of some strange power.

“Lost?” she asked in reply. “Not particularly.”

“Then what are you doing up here?” Spike asked.

“Nothing of consequence,” the mare responded, turning to face us proper. “Just admiring the view while I take a rest.”

Something felt strange as the mare eyed me up. She bore eyes that seemed both innocent and heavenly, yet cold and calculating. A look of interest and determination took her face before she leveled the edge of her spear to me.

“You look like a hard type,” she murmured, her eyes cast down across the blade as they met mine. “What say you to a duel?”

“A duel?” I parroted. “All the way up here?”

“You have an objection?” the mare asked, idly rolling her wrists.

“Well, for one, we’re complete strangers,” I replied, my spear lowered. “I wouldn’t want to fight someone I’ve only just met.”

“I see,” she said with a straight face as she lowered herself into a proper stance. “Then allow me to offer you some encouragement: Face me in a duel, and I’ll tell you my name.”

Part of me felt a bit wrong with facing a member of the fairer gender in combat. But, as memories of sparring against Firefly all those years ago returned to the forefront of my conscience, I quickly realized that it would be a hypocrisy to refuse her challenge.

“Very well, then,” I responded, flinging off my scarf. “En garde, you Jane Doe.”

The mare smiled, making an odd gesture with her off hand before getting into a proper stance.

“I’ll allow you the opening strike,” she said with a smirk. “I expect you to hit me with your best shot.”

Naturally, I obliged her request, thrusting at her as a fencer would with his foil.

The mare responded in kind, using the forked blades of her own spear to parry mine, locking me in place as she brought me closer. Then, as she had me in her grasp, she spoke again.

“Just so you know, there’s no running away from this,” she warned, bringing a palm near my chest. “I’ve set up a barrier around our little battlefield. No one comes in our out until one of us goes down.”

“How far does it go?” I asked, cringing slightly.

The mare smiled. “You’ll know it once you feel it.”

With a surge of power, I was sent crashing into a wall of force, a rippling surface meeting my back as it cushioned my descent. A deep spike of pain shot through my back as I began to slide against the surface. Through some miracle, the pain didn’t last nearly as long as it likely should have. By the time I was back on the ground, I was able to shrug off what remained and get back to my feet, with a little stagger.

“Admirable resistance,” the mare complimented. “Recovery’s a bit shaky, but it’s sooner than I would expect. Though I suppose that attack was a bit unfair. From here on, I’ll keep strictly to melee combat.”

Gee, seems a bit late for that, don’t you think?

I pursued the sorceress swiftly, swinging my spear with great speed, attempting to strike sure and true. However, she appeared to be particularly prepared, riposting it expertly. Our two spears clanged into each other with great force, flecks of sparking metal shooting off from the resulting clash. The two of us were now locked at the blade, pushing against one another to press an advantage of some sort.

However, it appeared that either one of us was going to have to make their own advantage, or we’d both have to disengage.

The mare seemed content with doing just that, backing up just a tad before rearing her blade into mine again, this time twisting it in her hands. Then, with a sharp yank, my weapon was ripped from my hands, leaving me exposed.

Quickly, I drew my longsword, taking the hilt with one hand as I braced my hand against the broad end of the blade. The forked edge of her spear clashed against my blade, and in a deliberate gambit, I placed my edge between the blades, aiming to repeat what she had done. With a sharp twist, I wrenched the spear out of my opponent’s hands, sending it spiraling into the ground. The sorceress-swordsman drew her own blade in response. a confident smirk on her face.

“I have to say, I’m impressed!” she called out, her naked blade between her eyes. “For someone who doesn’t appear to know a thing about magic, you certainly do know how to to turn a battle around.”

I smiled a bit myself, swiping my sword’s edge with my sleeve.

“Now it comes down to a contest of skill,” I replied, pointing my blade to the mare “What decides this will be a matter of our own experience.”

With a nod, we approached each other, swords in hands. We peered between our blades, our eyes fixed on one another as we paced about. For several moments, we strafed around our invisible ring, careful of our footing. We didn’t know who would make the first strike, but we both carried a certain paranoia as we scanned each other. Whoever went first would be able to press an advantage, if they had the skill to do so.

Then, with a scrape of stone against our boots, we stopped. Our eyes were locked, and we each entered our own stance. The magi dipped low, her legs bent close to the ground, and I raised my sword near my shoulder, the edge of it tapping my collar as I spread my legs outward. A silence fell on our battlefield, broken only by the shrill of a high mountain wind whistling in our ears. It was quiet enough to hear the beating of my own heart, and I could hear an indecipherable whisper in my ear.

Then, with plumes of dust kicking up past our feet, we charged towards each other. My sword trembled in my grip as I thrust forth the edge towards my challenger. For a moment, my eyes were shut, and not a single sound graced my ears. Sweat dripped down my face as I exhaled for a brief moment of reprieve. Something didn’t feel right, however. I didn’t hear the clash of metal against metal, nor a cry of pain as metal cut into flesh. Instead, a dead silence greeted me.

Then, a strange sensation filled me. A prickling filled my body. Though I was sure I was awake, I felt as if pins and needles were pricking away at me, as if I were recovering from a body-wide case of paresthesia. I didn’t know why it was happening, but something told me that its instigator was closer than I’d care to acknowledge.

In an instant, I felt my body jerk to one side, and felt a sting of pain across my brow. It happened so fast, it took me a few moments to even register that I’d been hurt in the first place. Several gasps filled the air as my left hand cupped my face instinctively. My eyes shut, and I felt the rasping of a blade back into its scabbard.

A concerned hiss greeted me as I felt a cool hand touch my forehead.

“Sorry about that,” the woman sighed as she leaned into me. “Looks like first blood. Doesn’t look too deep, though. It’ll heal easy.”

A rustle brushed against my ear as I felt something being wrapped against my head.

“In any event, you put up a good fight,” she continued as she dressed my wound. “Your recovery time was quick, you managed to parry against my spear well enough to disarm me, and save for that strange stumble, you kept yourself unscathed.”

I chuckled for a moment. “I’m not sure what came over me. I must have had some kind of spasm.”

“Don’t sweat it,” the sorceress said with a snicker. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out in due time.”

The mare helped me up, taking me by the arm and helping me gather my things.

“In any event, I’m a woman of my word,” she announced with a bow. “I am Megan.”

“Wait, you’re telling me your name?” I asked, incredulous. “But I lost.”

“I never said anything about winning,” the mare now known as Megan giggled dryly. “I said that if you faced me in a duel, I’d tell you my name. Now that I have, I’d like to know yours.”

I gave an awkward bow in reply, my dark skin flushing equal parts pale and red.

“My name is Lance Petal, Miss Megan,” I stammered, trying in vain to hide my embarrassment.

Megan giggled again, apparently trying to stifle laughter.

“How cute,” she squeaked, “Well then, Lance, seeing as our little duel has concluded, I suppose I’ll be on my way.”

With a snap of her fingers, I could hear a faint rippling noise, and my companions quickly joined me.

“Where are you headed?” Spike asked, his eyes scanning between the two of us.

“Wherever the winds see fit to lead me,” she sighed as she stretched out. “I’m sure that we’ll meet again soon.”

For a moment, Megan looked back to me.

“Before I head off, I’ll give you some advice,” she spoke as she pointed her spear in the direction of the nearby pathway. “I met a zebra mystic while I was getting a lay of the land. She was apparently heading to a temple devoted to Luna, and looked to know a thing or two about magic. If I were you, Lance, I’d be wise to take her tutelage.”

“Why would he do that?” Napalm asked snappily “We’ve got two casters already.”

The woman shrugged.

“I can see potential in him,” she replied simply, dusting herself off. “Besides, you never know what’s out to get you, so having plenty of options wouldn’t hurt.”

“And just where do you get the impression he can learn magic, exactly?”

I felt Megan’s hands caress my hands tenderly.

“There’s just something I can feel in him,” she said, standing up again. “The way that his eyes glimmer. The way the his fingers seem to twitch with energy. The way that arcane energy seems to form an almost rain-like aura around him. It’s tells like those that show the potential in a mage.”

“You really think I have it in me?” I asked, unsure of how to react to her commentary. “But I’ve never cast a spell in my life!”

Another chuckle from the wizard. “You need not be so modest; you can accomplish much if you’re willing to open your horizons. You may not know it yet, but I can feel a lot of potential in you, Lance.”

It was then that Megan walked near the edge, her arms outstretched as she looked out to the sky. She seemed to jerk for a moment, as if a jolt of lightning had struck her from behind. There wasn’t a flash of light or a bang of thunder as just stood there, stunned. Then, as crystals began to form at the soles of her feet, she dropped off like a stone. The seven of us rushed to the edge, and yet when we looked down, there was no sign of a body to be found. Neither a thud nor a splash greeted us as we huddled about. It was as if she’d disappeared…

As we stared down to the vista, a thought struck me. Something about that woman’s name smacked of something familiar to my lips. I’d heard a name like that before, but my mind wasn’t able to realize it until moments later. As we kept on our merry way, I had been given time to ruminate on that name.

Megan, I thought to myself. Now why does that name sound so familiar?

For almost half an hour, that name rattled around my conscience, trying to find some connection to a familiar memory.

Then it hit me. That conversation I had with the chancellor. I had told him that legend. I had regaled him with an account of an alleged matron. In the throes of my travels, I had pushed the memory aside to focus on the path ahead. Now, my mind couldn’t help but stay on that one moment.

In a heartbeat, I stopped dead in my tracks. My breath was seized, my muscles tensed, and a great clarity came to me in a brief, ephemeral flash. Nostalgia flowed through me, and I found my hands clasping my head as the realization dawned upon me.

I had just had a chance encounter with a goddess.

It was then, for a sparse few seconds, that the mountain juddered with the primal cry of a single interjection.

“Fuck!”

***

As night fell on the mountain, we eventually found the alleged temple that Megan had mentioned prior to her sudden disappearance. As we neared it, Roughshod’s expression began to sour.

“Something the matter, ass?” I asked, trying my hardest to keep in good composure.

“Old problems… these types and me,” Roughshod muttered, looking particularly avoidant.

“Problems concerning your faith, I assume?” I asked, a brow quirking up.

The donkey sighed as we took another brief stop.

“We had…differences,” he started, his face drooping down more than usual. “A stupid rivalry between me and a few corrupt devouts of Luna.”

He then produced what looked to be a pendant of quartz.

“This was once a beautiful pendant,” he continued, “A family heirloom, smashed in rage.”

I could tell from the hardened look in his eyes that this memory was fairly taxing on him.

“They raided my home, and burned my hovel to the ground,” he choked, putting the shard of quartz beneath his black shirt. “So, I am now forced to roam in poverty.”

I was bereft of words. I couldn’t form a reply for a good few moments after that.

“I apologize if this might be an uncomfortable experience, then,” I told him, trying to sound reassuring. “This looks like it’s the nearest temple for a few kilometers.”

“That’s fine,” the priest replied, “I doubt that I will run into such lunatics again.”

As we enter, my eyes catch a peculiar mare. Her coat was grey, striped with a slightly darker shade. She had orange eyes and wore her mane in a tight, striped weave behind her ears, fastened together with bands. A black mantle was wrapped around her, and she was polishing an odd-looking staff. The shape was vaguely ankh-like, but it looked more like a cross, with a few feathers dangling out at the sides.

“Greetings and good tidings…” Roughshod grumbled.

“Greetings and well met, fellow travelers,” chirped the zebra as she spread her front hooves in joy. “I trust that you have come from afar?”

“Sort of,” Napalm muttered, a hoof scratching the back of her head. “We’re from the Crystal Empire.”

“I have a relic that needs to be maintained,” Roughshod added. “I need to speak with whomever’s in charge.”

“A relic that you wish good care?” quipped the zebra as she pointed. “Perhaps then, you should see the monk over there.”

The priest nodded, taking out the hilt—which had been wrapped in terry cloth—to present to the monk, a chipper young thestral stallion.

“Greetings traveler,” says the monk with a gentle countenance. “Was is this you offer me?”

Roughshod unwrapped the hilt. “I have an artifact that needs special care, a heavy lockbox, and as many runes of protection and purification as you can spare.”

“I see,” the monk notes as he examines the hilt in more detail. “So this must be a very tainted item you give me.”

A few moments passed, and the monk looked upon us, taking keen interest in me.

“You lot look weary,” he noted. “Perhaps you and yours could seek refuge here for the evening?”

Roughshod grabbed the monk by the shoulder gently.

"Listen when I say this,” he murmured, trying to keep inaudible to my ears. “This hilt may have good purpose at a later time. But for now,it may be very dangerous. Please, lock it up tight and spare no lock nor spell to secure it."

“I understand,” the monk replied, taking the hilt into one of his pockets. “I shall see it be done.”

“Good,” snorted Roughshod, turning away slightly.

"That thing you have with you,” the monk queried, his eyes aimed to me “Is he in need of securing, as well?"

“I’m standing right here, you know,” I pointed out in a rather cross voice.

“I can manage him,” Roughshod grumbled. “Just lock up the relic.”

“Right, but I would recommend your friend see one of our more experienced monks,” the monk warned. “If he is not a demon, then he looks as if he’s seen a number of ghosts.”

“Such as myself, Brother Tall Grass?”

In an instant as quick as the blink of an eye, Aunt Luna stood in full relief behind the monk. Roughshod said nothing, only standing mouth agate before the lunar mare. The monk was barely even aware of her presence, even as it loomed over him with a substantial shadow. It was only until the jackass had finally stepped away to join me that he realized something was amiss, and turned to meet the matriarch. In an instant, a jovial, if somewhat wary, monk was reduced to a groveling peasant by only an exchange of looks.

Luna was looking a tad bit more formal than she usually was. She was wearing her requisite tiara and shoes, as well as her moon-emblazoned peytral. However, what stood out were the two saddlebags hanging from her back. It was a striking white, made of what appeared to be silk, with a symbol of a changing moon stitched in ebony thread on the body. It seemed to shimmer in the pale light of the temple.

“Y-your royal majesty!” he exclaimed, unable to compose himself. “I didn’t expect you be visiting!”

“Nor did I expect to pay a visit,” Luna replied, flapping her wings for a moment before allowing them to rest at her sides.

“To what do I owe this impromptu reunion. Aunt Luna?” I asked, standing up as I began to address my bandages.

“Nothing of dire consequence,” Luna assured as she cast a glow of her horn to her saddlebags. “Sister wished for me to deliver something to you.”

It was then that Luna presented a rather plain looking box. It was simple affair so spartan in its design that it lacked even wrappings, having only the simplest strips of grey tape to keep the box shut.

“A parcel?” I asked, cocking my head. “What’s the occasion?”

“Consider it a belated birthday gift,” Luna replied, smiling chipperly. “We believe it has been long overdue.”

The box had at first my interest, but now it had my full attention. My fingers crept along the lid, tearing it away gingerly before discarding it at my feet. Inside, there laid a golden diadem. It seemed to be a three-pronged sort, with a four-pointed star in the center. As I looked closely at the star, I found that it was in fact an inlay of what I could only assume was amethyst. Upon further examination, it had a simple etching I recognized as mother’s cutie mark on the reverse end of it.

“A diadem?” I asked, looking up to my aunt. “Why do you gift me with such a thing?”

“Though you may not yet be of age, my sister and I feel that we have largely ignored one of the most important facets of life as one of our own,” Luna explained, her tone simple and sweet, “With this, we officially recognize you as a noblesse underneath our banners."

I shrunk considerably at those words. For all this time, I had considered myself a soldier under my mother’s command. I had been taught the ways of combat and chivalry, but never once considered myself anywhere close to royal. And yet, here and now, that realization began to dawn on me. Though it was true I had no blood connection to them, according to official documents, I was not only their son, but their next of kin. My eyes remained fixated on the piece of regalia, a teeny reflection of my face shining within the star.

“I’m not sure if I’m quite fit to wear this, Aunt Luna,” I whispered, holding the headpiece in my hands. “Now just doesn’t feel like the right time.”

“Are you certain?” Luna balked, slightly wounded by my rebuking. “Sister had it crafted just for you. She felt it was due a lot sooner.”

“I understand that, Auntie,” I shuddered, my hands starting to tremble. “I’m just not sure if I can call myself a prince just yet.”

“You need not make that statement so soon, my nephew,” Luna replied, holding my chin. “We are aware that such a revelation as this may seem daunting. However, if you feel you unfit to wear the title of prince at this moment, then perhaps you would like to do something worthy of such a status?”

I warmed up slightly to my aunt’s offer, my anxiety now slowly being overtaken by curiosity.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

Luna smiled and helped me to stand.

“As you should likely be aware, the Kingdom of Equestria is but one of many great powers of this world,” she began, her voice now more gallant than before. “And as such, keeping in contact with neighboring civilizations and powers is important towards our stability. Seeing as we are occupied with our own duties and you are on a journey already, perhaps you would like to be our emissary?”

“Emissary?” I repeated, cocking my head.

“A representative,” Luna replied. “A messenger of sorts. We are preparing a summit with our allies near and far, and we would like to send a relatively unbiased stallion to appear in our stead and extend goodwill. As you are fresh to the ways of world travel, you would make a fine representative for Equestria.”

She then beckoned Spike, seeking out our map.

“When you have delivered your traveling company back to Pasofino, we would like you to make for the Griffon Kingdoms,” she instructed, placing a scroll in my hand. “In the city of Griffonstone, you must seek out Kaiser Gloria and deliver this missive for the event. Once you have done so, report to me through letter, and I shall task you further.”

“Understood, Aunt Luna,” I replied, bowing for a brief moment. “I shan’t fail you.”

Auntie giggled, and the hum of magic took the air again.

“I would advise you to wear the diadem upon your arrival, if only as a means for the guards to recognize you as nobility,” she chuckled, wrapping the golden regalia on my head.

I nodded, looking back to the box for a moment. It seemed I had missed something. Peeling away another layer of paper, I discovered two gauntlets packed away inside. They seemed to have a leather glove with gilded metal plates linked together. Etched on the backs of the palms were two pentacular symbols, painted ebony to contrast against the gold. The knuckles appeared to have more pointed surfaces, and as I slipped them on, I noticed there was a slight padded lining inside to make them fit more comfortably.

“And these, Aunt Luna?” I asked, pulling my hands further down the gauntlets to make sure my fingers fit snugly.

"In the event some nay-sayer should decide to challenge your status by combat, they should be handy,” Luna chuckled.

I wasn’t sure if I should chuckle at Luna’s quip or be concerned for my own life.

Her delivery done, Aunt Luna brought her front hooves across my shoulders and smiled.

“Tis good to meet your traveling company in person, Lance,” she sighed. “However, I must cut the pleasantries short for now; I am late to rise the moon.”

With this, she released me and turned about-face, disappearing in a silvery shimmer before us.

Shortly thereafter, the zebra approached me, a hoof near my bandages.

“Sir knight, you appear unwell,” she murmured, looking me over closely. “Perhaps your iils, I can quell.”

Roughshod, looking dreary, attempted some odd waving motion with his hoof.

“You may not wish to do that,” he mumbled, as if half-asleep.

“I understand that you are under a bit of stress,” the zebra continued. “Allow me to aid you on your quest.”

“A zebra that worships Luna,” the queen cooed with intrigue. “Isn’t that something else?”

"I do not worship the mare of the moon,” refuted the Zebra. “I'm simply taking refuge this afternoon."

“I see,” Napalm noted with a nod, “So, what’s a zebra doing all the way out here, anyway?”

“Ah, that is simple, my dear mare,” the zebra replied, “The light of the moon brought me here. I am Nia, a mystic who travels the land. I’ve journeyed through brush, grass, and sand.”

“Huh,” Napalm hummed, cocking her head. “So how’s being homeless working out for you?”

“I am typically one comfortable in the embrace of nature,” Nia responded, smiling. “But as of late, I’ve come to miss civilization’s nurture.”

“Understandable,” the queen noted. “And what of your rhyming?”

“Ah, I apologize for speaking in verse,” Nia lamented. “If you prefer, I will use conventional means with which to to converse.”

I nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

“I assume you are Lance, correct?” The zebra asked, checking my bandages. “What caused this wound on your head?”

“He got into a fight with some mare named Megan, and ended up getting it by accident,” Spike explained. “In fact, she actually told us about you.”

“A woman’s blade caused this injury than directed you to me for inquiry?” The zebra asked in reply. “Interesting.”

“Still rhyming, you know,” the queen pointed out.

“My apologies. It is a force of habit.”

For a moment, there was a pregnant silence.

“If it would be acceptable, could you leave him with me?” Nia asked, unwrapping my bandages. “I may be able to brew a natural remedy.”

The party looked to themselves, then to me. A few of them seemed ill at ease to consider the aid of a stranger, but Spike seemed all for it, giving me a thumbs up. I think Roughshod must have fallen asleep at this point. Napalm decided to meander off through the temple, and the zebra began to grind various plants into a powder in a bowl near my lap as I sat down. I watched her technique carefully as she used her hooves like mortar and pestle. Eventually, she began to take some of the powder into her hooves, gingerly applying it to my bleeding brow, causing a sizzling hiss to start from it. My teeth began to gnash as a stinging pain burned in my forehead. Though I could tell she meant it in goodwill, Nia’s makeshift medicine was doing a lot more hurt than help. Then again, even the most effective medicines are the ones that are least pleasant to use.

After a few painfully extended moments of displeasure, the sizzling subsided, and the initial pain which had troubled me prior to arriving at the temple was gone, instead replaced by a cooling sensation that made my head feel a tad bit heavier than it had been prior. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, mind you; it was much more preferable to having a soaking cloth against my forehead, and I could definitely feel myself being reinvigorated.

“That was… surprisingly effective, Nia,” I sighed, patting my forehead contentedly. “How did you manage this?”

“When you’ve been roving about as a mystic as long as I have, you learn a few things,” Nia replied eagerly. “Alongside my martial acumen, I am also skilled in cures, charms, and medicines.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make rhymes out of habit,” I countered, chuckling a tad.

Nia chuckled.

“So that mare of two legs referred you to me,” she pondered, examining me. “For what reason did she do this?”

“She believes that I might be able to learn magic,” I replied, holding my hands out in interest. “I’m honestly not sure where she sees it.”

Nia nodded, removing my gauntlets to caress my hands with her hooves.

“Understandable,” she murmured, checking my musculature. “Your body is firm, to the point of slender. You are of a shape most would not consider typical of a mage.”

The zebra then locked eyes with me, giving me a soul-peering stare.

“Your eyes tell a different story, however,” she said, holding me close. “I can see an untapped well of power amongst the darkness that seems to be building. You are anxious, and yet a glimmer of hope shines in the smallest corner of your heart. You may not think it, but I can see deep within a great potential power.”

“So you’re saying I might actually be able to do this?” I asked, a tad uncomfortable from the look she was giving me.

“Perhaps,” the zebra replied. “However, there must be a reason as to why she brought you before me; there is something I can provide that would prove essential to you that neither unicorn, elk, nor even deer may be able to provide. If you are willing to trust me, I can show you the ways of the arcane.”

“You mean it?” I gasped, slightly happier than I believe I should have been.

“I give you my word,” the zebra replied. “When we are someplace more comfortable, we shall begin your training.”

Part of me wanted to just jump up and tackle the zebra into a hug, but my better judgement wisely protested against it. Instead, I merely smiled and accepted the mare’s kind embrace. Shortly thereafter, I freed myself from her grip and met up with Napalm again.

“Hey, Lancie-poo,” Napalm cooed in a manner I wasn’t sure was genuine. “How’d things go between you and Stripes?”

“She’s offered to teach me in her ways for now,” I replied, a little more confidently. “Given what she said earlier, I think we have a new member to our little group of misfits.”

Napalm scoffed. “Good. We could definitely use another level headed mare in our group. I’m starting to get a little tired of being the voice of reason.”

“Implying that’s not already my job?” Spike interjected.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I think I’m starting to understand where I get this strange sense of humor from.

“I think it’s about time we write home for the night,” I said, stretching out. “Got your quill?”

“Right here,” Spike said, preparing some parchment.

***

Dearest Mother,

I received your gifts this evening, courtesy of Luna; I’m quite grateful, but I question the meaning behind them. Luna has also tasked me with emissarial duties while I’m on my journey. We’re headed for Griffon Kingdoms. Prior to that, we had a run-in with a strange woman. She called herself Megan. She looked bipedal, like me. We had a duel and I got a bit of a scar. I have good reason to believe she may be that goddess Mag’ne from Equestrian myth, but I wonder what she may be doing out here. She pointed us in the way of a temple and we’ve gained the aid of a zebra mystic. By the woman’s instructions, I’m going to make an attempt towards finally learning magic.

Keyword being, attempt.

I think I might be dealing with a Nightmare. I’m not sure how strong it is right now, but the idea of being inside of me is scary enough. I fear I may not be able to deal with it at this point, and I’m starting to worry. If you can, please try and find some way for me to excise this creature, or at the very least forestall it. It has only been a couple of days since we started this trek, and I’d hate to lose myself out here.

I’ll try to keep in touch. Right now, I’m hoping the holiness of this temple will give me sanctuary from another bad night’s rest.

Yours,

Lance

Author's Note:

It's a March Miracle! I finally update this bitch! With the aid of my new editor Amneiger, I have finally completed this new installment in the story. Expect the next chapter to be a little different, and for revised versions of the prior ten chapters to come in the very near future. And now, for the world-building notes.

On Nightmares (1): It is a commonly accepted notion that Nightmares often begin their cycle of parasitism by first contextualizing themselves to their host. Fear is an important part of their diet.

The Midnight Lounge: As a way of linking the collective unconsciousness of Equestria's citizenry together for ease of access, The Midnight Lounge was created. Sitting atop a massive hotel complex—itself called Hotel Nocturne—the lounge serves as a hub for dreaming folk, with Equestrians currently its primary tenants.

On Megan: Much of Megan's existence is disputed after her rule as the Crystal Queen. The only constant in most recordings of her existence is that she was an incredibly potent wizard whose power has been reputed to have slain the dreaded centaur Tirek.

Her spear and sword are known as Sirius and Polaris, respectively.

On Religions: Though the royal family of Equestria does not typically condone being worshiped as deities, it is a common sight throughout much of Equestria to see shrines devoted to each of the princesses. However, the vast majority of these shrines are dedicated less to the actual princesses themselves and more to the ideals and domains that they represent. It is currently unknown where most "divine" magic draws its power from, but many speculate that they originate from older folk deities.