Overcast

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Princess Luna was now the Princess of Detention. Oh, she didn't want to be the Princess of Detention, but her bossy sister insisted. In fact, Luna did not wish to even be awake at this unalicornly hour, but here she was, doing her duty. Since when did her sister's perfect little students even get detention, anyway? When was mercy added to the educational curriculum? Detention inflicted boredom; threatening to draw and quarter an unruly foal before their peers inflicted motivation. The old days were lost to the past and Luna found herself a mare displaced out of time.

There was once a saying: A hot poker cured sloth.

Her sister, Celestia, got a throne room. Luna looked around the detention cell, as it was known. Wasn't much of a cell, all things considered. It was a round room in the top of a tower and to reach it, one had to climb a rather ridiculous number of stairs, the number of which was known to vary from day to day. It was said that the stairs resented being stomped on, and were rather vengeful sorts who resorted to petty acts of passive-aggression to vent their bile.

Celestia had a throne; Luna had a rather comfy chair upholstered in indigo velvet.

Other than the obnoxiously perfect chair that was exactly to Luna's tastes, an imposing stone desk, and a few worn-smooth wooden benches, the room was cruelly empty. There was nothing on the walls to distract a wandering eye. While there were windows, they had frosted glass that obscured all vision. There were no posters, no signs, no messages of motivation as one might find elsewhere in the school for spoiled unicorns, only gratuitous austerity that was almost perfect in Luna's opinion.

If she cleared out the wooden benches and forced the condemned to stand…

With but a few graceful steps, she came around to the other side of the desk. There were wooden drawers, which stood out in contrast to the grey stone. Pulling open the drawer on the right, she found stationary, pencils, an inkwell with a stained cork stopper, a few quills, a thoroughly modern pen with its own ink reserves, a book with no markings on the cover, and other assorted bric-a-brac.

After shoving the drawer shut, she pulled open the left. Inside, she found more stuff, a veritable treasure trove of things. There was an hourglass. How delightfully twisted to keep the timepiece in the drawer, where the condemned could not view the passing of time. Luna's approval manifested as a subtle smirk. There were other things, including some familiar purple wax paper wrappers. Luna peered down at the banana candies—her favourite—and somehow knew that her sister had placed them there. It was a generous gesture, a thoughtful act, and suddenly, without warning, Luna felt better about things. She would have delicious banana candies—and her captives would not.

Perhaps the previous occupant needed the hourglass; Luna found it useless.

Stifling the urge to yawn, she pushed the drawer shut with only the faintest bang.

Dreaming wasn't so different from detention, when you earnestly compared the two. Some dreams were to inspire guilt; to make a pony think about whatever awful thing they might have done. Ponies wanted to be scared back into goodness, and so Luna obliged them—sometimes too much so, and the night terrors she wrought upon them caused them to wet their little pony beds. She gave them their hearts' innermost and secretive desire. Detention was much the same, but in the waking world. Still, something felt off to her, though she could not put her hoof on what it might be. Something about this unsettled her, bothered her in some vague way, like a fly buzzing close enough to be heard but too far away to be dealt with.

Thankfully, magic allowed one to deal with distant annoyances.

If only it could sort out her current predicament.

In the stories, princesses were locked away in towers where they whiled away the time waiting for some plucky adventurer to save them. These stories bothered her a great deal, for a variety of reasons. If a princess was so helpless that she couldn't save herself from a tower, then she didn't deserve to be a princess. Beyond that, she had spent time not in a tower, but bound to the moon—and saved by a ragtag band of plucky adventurers. Which nettled her in some awful way that she could not give voice. Now, she was a princess in a detention tower and at some point everything about her life had gone heinously astray.

She could save herself from this tower if she wanted to—but did she?

Ears pricking, she heard hooves on the stairs. Not an adventurer come to save her, but a foal sent to detention. If Luna was now the evil warden of detention, the dreaded bigbad who kept others locked up in a tower, what if their fellow students stormed the tower to save one of their own? Well, she would ice the stairs, to start, and then try not to enjoy herself too much as the scrappy little ruffians suffered fabulous pratfalls. The sight of all those stubby little legs kicking and flailing, all while failing to find purchase on the slickened, slippery stairs—well that would be an entertaining spectacle. A sight to make sides sore.

To say that Luna's smile was chilling was a dire understatement.

The Princess of Detention should not smile though, so she rid herself of it. Swinging her leg, she kicked out the chair a bit, sat down, settled into the overstuffed chair, and was almost overcome by the giggles when the velvet tickled places on her body that should never be tickled. A little cough, some clearing of her throat, a swallowed giggle that would surely find some means of hasty escape through other orifices, and then Luna became the Princess of Detention. Stern. Cold. Commanding.

And desperately wanting a banana candy.

So wanting a banana candy, and realising her mistake, she hurriedly crowned herself, formed a nation right here on the spot, and granted herself a new title, for such was her majesty: Princess Luna, Monarch of the Pro-Crasty Nation. Surely she was Pro-Crasty, rather than No-Crasty, because if she had no-crasted, she would have had a banana candy during all the glorious free time that she had squandered. Oh, she would pay, surely she would—she deserved this detention. This room was her nation, she was its ruler, and her first subject was just outside, no doubt huffing and puffing up the stairs.

It was time to be the Princess of Detention.

The most obvious thing about the colt was his colouration; he was a particular hue of pale purple that at some point in history might have been considered pink. Almost—though not quite—a shade of mauve. For a filly it would be a perfectly acceptable colour, but for a colt such a tint was surely problematic. At some point during Luna's long absence, little ponies foolishly attached gender to colour and gave themselves one more thing to bicker endlessly about, because that was what little ponies did when left to their own devices. Little ponies could not be trusted with even the most basic of things.

His mane was messy and in need of combing. The cornflower blue strands clung to his sweaty face, hung down into his eyes, and had wrapped around his ears. The well-moistened nerdling glistened. Secretly pleased, Luna appreciated that the stairs had not been kind to him. No doubt, he was a scholarly sort. Yes, he was a bookworm, a studious little go-getter, not given to athletics or physical pursuits.

Trivial Pursuit might turn physical, but that did not constitute a fitness regimen.

He tossed his bookbag onto the floor, a bag no-doubt filled with a cornucopia of distractions. If he had gum, candy, or pornography—contraband as they called it in the modern era—she would confiscate it. She would deny him anything that might spare him boredom, but he didn't know that yet. For now, she would allow him much-needed time to catch his breath, and given just how out of shape he was, his breath could run circles around his scrawny bookworm frame. Whilst he stood there, practically panting, Luna continued to study him. Aside from being currently disheveled, he was well-groomed. His hooves saw frequent maintenance, his pelt saw regular washings and conditionings, and something about him suggested that he was a fussy little fellow.

No doubt, the stairs had put him into a mood.

"Name?" she demanded when some of the huffing and puffing had subsided.

The colt ignored her for a moment, gasped a few more times, gulped down some air, and then replied, "Overcast."

Overcast? Unable to help herself, Luna leaned forward over her desk, narrowed her eyes, and watched with subtle amusement as the colt continued to catch his breath. "Most peculiar. That sounds like a pegasus name."

"My mother"—he gasped—"is a pegasus." More air was sucked in. "Other ponies called me grumpy"—a wheeze—"or cranky"—a gasp—"or even colicky"—his sides heaved like a fierce incoming tide—"and my mother would correct them"—a wheeze that was almost a cough—"and tell them that I was just a little overcast. The name stuck." Almost caught up to his breath, he leveled a deadpan stare upon Luna, then added, "I hate my name. I hate everything about me."

"So, why are you here, Overcast?"

"Because," he replied, "I got in trouble, duh. This must be your first day on the job."

Conflicted, Luna did not respond right away. She was deeply impressed, because he was absolutely fearless—but she was also furious, because he was downright disrespectful. Like a tightrope walker beset by the wind, she wavered between these two extremes, trying to find some sense of balance. Really, he should be rewarded for his fearlessness, but his wagging tongue had to go. Briefly, she considered sending him back down the stairs so that he might suffer coming back up, but then she decided to be amused—even if she didn't show it.

"If you do not wish to discuss what brought you here, you may begin your hour of absolute silence. There will be no books, no reading, no studying. You will sit on a wooden bench of your choosing and you will be as silent as the grave, lest your hour of detention begin anew. I can be here all night, and so can you."

The colt visibly shrank back as these words sank in, but not from fear.

"Lady, who peed in your oatflakes?"

An hour of physical fitness spent climbing stairs suddenly became a lot more tempting.

"I got sent here for the same reason I always get sent here. Because I hate myself and everypony around me. I don't want to make friends. I don't want to interact with my classmates. I hate them and they hate each other. All of them are a bunch of fakes, frauds, and phony-baloney-ponies."

"And what, pray tell, makes you believe that?"

"Nopony has ever asked me that before," Overcast said as he just stood there. "Usually, they just start yelling when I try to tell them."

"Answer me," demanded Luna.

"Well, uh"—he reached up and scratched behind his sweaty ear with his left hoof—"where do I begin?"

"At the beginning," deadpanned Luna. She withheld the 'duh' only by supreme effort of will.

"Nopony has ever asked. I don't know how to talk about it."

She waited—not patiently.

"Everypony says nice things to each other face-to-face, but they say horrible things when, uh, well, when the pony they're talking about isn't around, really bad things get said." His lips continued to move, but no words came forth and he kept scratching behind his ear. After a time, he closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again. "I've seen it for myself. Uh, I mean, I've heard it for myself. Because I listen, you see… and, uh…"

"You aren't doing a satisfactory job of explaining yourself, Overcast."

"I'm not used to talking to other ponies," he replied.

"Tell me," she said to him, "do you eavesdrop?"

"Well, kinda?" He squinted, uncertain, and his left front hoof ceased to move behind his ear.

"Do you fancy yourself a spy?" she asked.

"Um…"

She turned the full force of her imperious gaze upon him, and transfixed him with her eyes. Still, he wasn't afraid, just uncertain. Oh, there was fear there, but not a fear of her. This piqued her inquisitive nature in the most terrible way and Luna's only real regret was that their chance meeting took place during detention. The hour—or however long this might take—could prove interesting.

"When I try to explain myself, the grownups get mad because I'm long-winded and then I get in trouble and I never get to explain myself."

Saying nothing, Luna waited.

"Well, uh… um… you really wanna know?"

Somewhat bothered by just how much his speech had broken down, Luna allowed her expression to soften—though not by much. Her imperious gaze became one of patient command. When the colt collected himself just a little, her expression ceased its shift and went still. His eyes grew even more fearful, but this distress was not directed at her. No, this colt was afraid of himself—a condition that she sympathised with.

"My father taught me a ventriloquism spell," Overcast said as he sidled towards a bench. While he clambered up and sat down, he licked his lips and then his head bowed low. "We have a big house… uh, a tower. It's big. Real big. Dad taught me the spell so I don't have to shout. I could just throw my voice through the walls or the floors or the ceiling."

From this, Luna gathered that the colt had a unicorn father.

"Well, uh, one day"—he cleared his throat and speaking became a little easier—"I got to wondering if the spell could be reversed. If the voices of others could be thrown back to me. I've never tinkered with a spell before, and it was really hard, but eventually I figured out how to do it. A sort of reverse-ventriloquism spell that when I cast it, the voices of others would get bounced back to my ears, and then I could hear everything that was being said. Everywhere. And that's how I know that friendship is fake."

He blinked, twice.

"Am I in trouble for spying?"

At first, Luna did not know what to say. Then, after a few seconds, she transitioned to a total loss for words. After that, she became tongue-tied, which lasted for a while, but eventually she regained her senses enough to sit in mute, shocked silence. Pressing her silver-shod front hooves together, she allowed them to come to rest on the desk before her. Still, no words came to her, and her thoughts threatened to become a hurricane.

"It started with my mom," he said in a confessional whisper. "I listened to her talking one day. One of the neighbors was over for tea and biscuits. My mom… she said… well, she said bad things about a pony that I thought was her friend. Gossip. My mom gossiped. And she said all these things… really bad things… and I heard everything she said." He cast his eyes downward, shook his head, and what came next was more breath than whisper.

"I didn't tell her that I'd heard her. I just… I just stopped talking to her and she doesn't know why. I listened to my dad, too. He talked about another pony… a mare that's not my mom… he and his friend talked about our neighbor and they"—he gulped, an audible sound—"they talked about all of the things they would do to her if they had the chance. I heard everything. That's why I chose to live here, at the school, and not at home."

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy with barely withheld emotion.

"I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't help myself. I started listening to what my classmates had to say."

Luna understood. Of course she understood. Her face softened so much and her expression changed so drastically that she would not recognise herself, if she happened to catch a glimpse of her own reflection at this moment. This was how her own isolation started, though not so much through eavesdropping. However, eavesdropping and dreamwalking were largely similar. She too had learned that ponies were deceitful creatures that said one thing but did another. In dreams, she had seen the best and worse that ponykind had to offer—but for whatever reason, the worst stood out. All of the really awful bits somehow smothered the good.

"The worst part," he continued, "is that now I can't stop myself. I have to know what is being said. I can't make myself stop. It's tearing me apart."

"Why tell me this?" she asked.

"You told me to tell you," he replied. Then, he sniffled a bit, wiped his nose with his foreleg, and his head bobbed. "You're the Dreamwalker. I didn't mean to be sarcastic. It just slips out now. Like a sneeze. You're the Dreamwalker."

"That I am." She swallowed to keep a sigh held inside.

It was then that she realised that there was absolutely nothing she could do to punish the colt. Whatever grim tortures she might have to offer with detention paled in comparison to the troubles found inside his skull. His torment was never-ending. The pain of his existence couldn't even be comprehended by most. For some reason, she thought about the banana candies in her drawer, and then she thought about her sister.

Celestia knew things. How she knew things was a closely guarded secret. It was possible that Celestia knew even more secrets than Luna herself did. She found herself wondering if her sister knew about this situation, and if detention was a clever ruse so that she and the troubled colt might cross paths. It was entirely possible, but it could also just be coincidence. Of course, Celestia might take credit for coincidence—she did that to improve her own well-cultivated mystique—but she also denied her direct involvement in many cases where she clearly interfered. Of Celestia, nothing could be certain except for uncertainty.

Suddenly, Luna did not want to be in detention.

"Everypony is afraid of you, you know," he said. "They all say bad things about you. The worst things. I hear it every day. I don't know what Headmistress Celestia was thinking, putting you in charge of detention. When that was announced, all my classmates started saying how we'd get sent to detention and never return. That you'd eat us. Or worse. A lot of foals think you're a vampire. Or that you'll use detention to brainwash us so you can try to take over the world again. What Headmistress Celestia did was stupid. Really, really stupid. She put you in a spot where nopony could ever like you."

Kicking her desk would have dire consequences. It would burst into smithereens, no doubt. The pieces would fly outward, possibly at supersonic speeds. Walls would shatter like so much glass. The colt would become a fine red mist when struck by moving debris as the tower disintegrated around him. If she vented her anger, the price would be too much to bear. On the outside, she was calm. Placid. Serene. Not one ear twitched. Her eyelids did not flutter. Not one muscle anywhere on her body twitched in a way that might betray her. But her innards… her innards were a Tartarian abyss writhing with demons given to an orgy of bloodlust.

"It seems nopony else has detention," she announced in a cold deadpan that held no trace of emotion.

After a few rapid blinks, the colt seemed confused. He was different now in some strange way. Overcast was not the same colt that had walked through the door mere minutes ago. While visible distress clung to him like clouds eager to ruin a picnic, there was a sense of relief about him. Everything that he'd kept corked up inside of him had just come flooding out. His sides heaved for a far different reason now, and his long trip up the stairs had nothing to do with it.

"We're going to the astronomy tower," Luna announced.

"What? Why?"

"The telescope needs cleaning. You are going to clean it."

"But… stairs. If it's all the same, I'll sit out my hour on my bench."

Luna considered, then said, "No."

"But… I—"

"We're going and that's final."

The rage subsided a little; her innards were now like a churning, seething mass of cannibalistic crocodiles chomping and chowing down upon one another. The state of upset was a physical sensation of clenching and unclenching, of tightness upon tender places. But she did not take it out on Overcast, no. He'd suffered enough. What he needed right now—what they both needed right now was a distraction. Not detention. Absolutely nothing would be accomplished here except for a waste of time.

While she wasn't sure what to do, she did have a plan. Not a long-term plan—she needed time to plot and ponder—but she could deal with the immediate crisis. Just not here. Not in this place. Ignoring the crocodilian chaos in her alimentary canal, she focused upon the foal entrusted to her care. When had this sense of duty manifested last? Not since her return. Everything from before was hazy. It had been a long time. Too long. She had just woken up not that long ago and now something else was awake. Something strange and unfamiliar, but welcome.

Luna smiled. There was no trace of warmth, no. This smile was like a forgotten cup of coffee left to go cold, bitter and neglected. Unpleasant. When she spoke, her voice was much the same. "You are hereby sentenced to community service. Now come with me."

Overcast collapsed into a wet, wheezing heap and then lay face down on his bookbag. With casual indifference, Luna stepped over him—not around him as one might do—and then went over to open the window so that a much-needed breeze might blow through. She was calmer now, more in control, and this allowed for a little clarity so that she might sort out her thoughts. For a short time, she stood with her face in the breeze, and rather enjoyed the cooling sensation upon her fuzzy cheeks.

"Get up," she commanded.

But Overcast did not budge; he continued to lay there, panting and gasping for air.

"Are you dying?" she asked.

No response. Nothing. Just more laboured breathing and what might have been a faint moan. She stepped away from the open window, crossed the room, and stood beneath the shutter mechanism, the complex system of gears, winches, pulleys, and mechanical force that opened up a panel so that one might look out upon the stars above. It was a marvel of mechanical complexity, a testament to the modern era, and could be operated with minimal force.

Of course, Luna could just as easily open up the paneled roof with magic.

Technology existed to replace magic, and she wasn't entirely certain how she felt about that. If Overcast was going to die, he sure was taking a long time to do it. Were she allowed to motivate him by any means necessary, he might very well find a veritable wellspring of energy and get-up-and-go. But living in modern times with softened, weakened societal mores meant that he got to lay in a miserable heap and never explore his full potential.

What a pity.

"I've got stitches in my sides!" he gasped.

Such weakness; Luna had no choice but to abide it. If given a chance, she knew that she could show him the very depths of his potential. But her frustrations were her own and deep down, beneath it all, she didn't actually want him to suffer. Which was why they were here, rather than in the detention tower. She couldn't fix what was broken—the bell could not be unrung—but she could teach him how to endure. Of course, she hadn't endured. She'd broke. Which was why she knew exactly what was at stake. It occurred to her that she might be the only pony that could help him. This was not thought out of ego, but rather, an acknowledgment of her own failures and the always agonising self-humblement. Which, for some reason, never stopped hurting. Her ego remained tender and she was wary of her own self-inflicted pain.

She too, had stitches in her sides.

"I am going to teach you a spell and you will use that spell to clean the telescope."

"You're going to teach me magic?" He lifted his head and his eyes seemed to have some trouble focusing. "Isn't that… like a reward?"

"No," she replied. "This is an exchange. The cost is cleaning the telescope."

Much to Luna's complete lack of surprise, the colt rose up to stand on his hooves, and then stood there with wobbly, treacherous knees. So, the hot poker wasn't needed; she'd found a carrot. After making a few mental notes, she re-adjusted her expectations and reconsidered how to proceed. Carrots. During her long absence, society had changed. Advanced. Somewhere along the way, the long march of progression led to the invention of the red hot carrot, a thoroughly confusing thing that she wasn't sure what to think of. They called it curry, and any number of vegetables could be made tongue-searingly hot.

It was either a punishing reward or a rewarding punishment; she couldn't be sure of either.

"I am not a patient instructor," she said to him. Her tone turned chilly and her eyes narrowed. "This will be explained only once. So you had best listen. The cost of my instruction is attentiveness." What she didn't say was that there was a lesson to be learned here, and it had little to do with magic. That would come later, perhaps, depending entirely upon how this turned out.

If he proved worthy, the lesson would be revealed.

"Magic is all I care about," he said with a prolonged sniffle.

Another mental note was made.

"Come forward," she commanded. "Head up. Stand straight. Do not slouch. Be worthy of my tutelage or begone from my sight."

Right away, the colt underwent a startling transformation; he stood straight. His knees ceased to wobble. Ears pricked and ready, he held his head high. Eyes bright and eager, he gave her his rapt attention. With his patheticness now departed, Overcast was far more tolerable. Rather than be put off, Luna appreciated his sense of drama and the rapid change he was capable of. It gave her ideas and a glimpse into his true potential.

With a wave of her wing, she beckoned him to come closer, and was pleased when he obeyed.

"So, what's the point?" he asked. "Why keep going? Why even try when everypony is fake and phony? I don't understand."

As the colt spoke, he concentrated upon the spell and his horn glowed with a scintillating opal hue that matched his eyes. A dweomer of blue light surrounded the massive brass pivot mechanism that held the telescope and allowed it to angle up and down. Everywhere the light passed, the brass shone brightly. Little strands of hair, motes of dust, and bits of debris just disintegrated upon contact with the light.

Luna didn't have an answer, but she gave voice to one anyway.

"You just learn to keep going. It is true, many ponies are two-faced. They say one thing and do another. Very few truly understand this terrible truth. I've learned to, well, for lack of a better term, just tune it out."

"How can you just ignore it?" he asked, and his magic faltered momentarily. "Your own sister says she loves you and makes a big deal in public telling us that we have to accept you, respect you, and show you the same love that we show her, but she's set you up to be hated. She doesn't do detentions… probably because she doesn't want us hating her. But she seems fine with us hating you. She's just as two-faced as everypony else."

Luna's jaw firmed. Her sister didn't do detentions because she was too busy running a nation. Why, her very position as Headmistress seemed mostly perfunctory, almost to the point of being ceremonial. She had an apprentice—Twilight Sparkle—and a few other exceptional students that she paid some small amount of attention to. Teeth clenched, Luna wondered what she was doing here. She was a Princess of Equestria. The Princess of the Night. But… she had no real duties and was relegated to Princess of Detention.

While her sister ran the nation, Luna was stuck doing—well, whatever this was.

This colt, he'd seen and heard too much. It made him mature far too early, before he was prepared for it. Before he was equipped to deal with it. The same had happened to Luna. Her ability to dreamwalk had manifested as a filly. Oh, the things she had seen before she was ready. What awful, horrible, terrible, disgusting things she had seen. Secret desires. Hidden lust. While still a foal, she had borne witness to some exceptionally adult things, and her exposure had warped her mind.

Overcast had suffered much the same and as a consequence, was an unprepared adult trapped in a foal's body. Or maybe not. No matter how she tried, Luna could not quite reconcile these things after everything that had happened to her. She didn't want to, for one thing, because the wounds were still fresh, and for another, a part of her was still very much in denial of the problem—whatever the problem might be. Identifying the problem meant dealing with it.

How easy it would be to just explode and go off on a tear. She could go and confront her sister. She could ask hard questions. Why, she could even go and provoke a fight, a good shouting match between siblings. Just let go with Ye Olden Canterlot Voice—the name of which still baffled Luna because back in the day Equestria's capital region was the Everfree. Yet, she herself had gone along with the charade at her sister's insistence. Why? The reason remained unknown. Perhaps it had something to do with consistency for the sake of the little ponies, who became easily confused.

Canterlot had always been the capital of Equestria.

"I don't think I can get it any cleaner."

With her eyes still on her own reflection in the window, she asked, "You know this, how?"

She waited, but there was no response.

Overcast's head tilted upwards, towards the now gleaming telescope, and the colt seemed to examine the massive device held secure above him. All of the brass and silver were mirrored perfection. No motes of dust marred the perfect surface, at least for the moment. The lenses were unsullied perfection. His horn glowed blue for a brief time, and a projected dweomer of light danced along the surface of the telescope's central shaft.

"Because I can feel it. I could feel every imperfection. I don't know how, but I could feel the dirt. Felt like bumps. Everything is smooth now."

"Do you understand the significance of this?" she asked, still looking out the window.

With a shake of his head, Overcast's horn went dim. Had Luna been looking, she would have seen the telescope reflected in the colt's eyes. She might have noticed his calm, reverent expression. Had she turned around, she would have observed the transformation that had taken place. He took a careful step closer to Luna on hooves that scarcely made a sound, and then just stood there, unmoving.

"Something has changed," he said at last. "But I don't know what it is. My senses are different somehow."

"The purpose of the lesson…" She waited, hoping to be rewarded.

"Was to change my senses somehow?"

It wasn't the answer that she had hoped to hear, but she was still happy to hear it. Turning about, she looked down at her worshipful supplicant. He had changed. Not just his senses, but his demeanor, his very attitude. Gone was the sarcasm and the flippant disrespect. Now he looked at her in very much the same way little ponies looked at her sister. But this wasn't mindless adoration, no. She had given something to him first. Something profound. She had earned this reverence, this precious adoration, and she allowed herself to bask in this well-deserved moment of glory.

"There are different types of casters," she said to him, "just as there are different types of unicorns. You might be told otherwise—and probably have—but that is a lie. You are already aware of the lies all around us. Certain facts are withheld to prevent rivalry, or division. We keep certain truths hidden so we do not endlessly argue over what is better, and why. This was done to protect the weak-minded from themselves—though I believe that in doing so, they are left further weakened. But, my opinions are out of date and have soured like milk left out in my sister's sun for too long."

She had his rapt attention; the colt was practically spellbound.

"There are those who cast with intelligence. They are studious and attentive to their lessons. Through study and experimentation, they grow in power. Intellect casters tend to resort to overwhelming force in much the same way that earth ponies rely upon brute strength. They use their brain in the same manner as earth ponies use muscle and then just force the magic to happen, with no thought given to nuance or subtlety." For a brief moment, she thought of her sister's apprentice, the unicorn Twilight Sparkle, and she could not help but smile.

"Instinctual casters rely upon impulse. They cast from their gut. While perhaps not the strongest of casters, they are quick to react, less likely to be taken by surprise, or caught unawares and unprepared. They rely entirely upon feeling, but not sensory feeling. Their hunches can be harnessed. In conflict or times of trouble, instinctual casters are the first to start flinging spells like so much confetti, while intellectual casters are still considering their options and weighing the best possible response. While instinctual casters might start the conflict, intellectual casters are likely the ones that end it."

Her smile vanished.

"And then we have unicorns like you. Those who cast by perception. When you altered your ventriloquism spell, you relied upon sensory input to guide your way. You trusted your ears. That is extraordinary, and I do not tell you this to flatter you. Rather than years of study to alter a spell, understanding the mechanisms that make the spell work, you relied upon your sense of perception. With the cleaning spell I taught you, you have learned how to feel even the most minute details. You knew the telescope was cleaned because you paid attention to your senses. Do you understand?"

He nodded, but hesitantly.

"The lesson has started, but not finished," she said to him in a cold deadpan. "You will continue. You will traipse around the school and you will clean everything around you. Not for the sake of cleanliness, though that is a pleasant aftereffect. Just as you have mastered your remote ear to hear everything, the cleaning spell will give you focus. Through focus, you will gain discipline, and with discipline, hopefully, you will regain some control over your life. Do not be a slave to your senses, but become their master. Seize control."

"How?" he asked.

"I just told you how," she replied. "Though it seems impossible right now, let your perceptions guide your way. 'Twas your perceptions that led you into the dark, and now you must use them to feel your way out."

"Why are you helping me?" he asked.

"Is that not my job?" She responded to his query with a question of her own.

"Who helps you?" he asked, and then, taken aback by his own words, he stood there, his mouth opening and closing, all while making apologetic whimpers.

"I am not offended," she said to him in a somewhat softer voice, like butter left out on the table in a warm kitchen.

"Your sister did you wrong, doing this to you." He cast his eyes down to the floor, swallowed, and then tried to blow his mane away from his eyes. "But I'm glad she did. Grownups don't seem interested in actually helping me. They tell me that things will turn out, or worse, they try to hug me… as if that will make me forget everything. Nopony wants to acknowledge that there's a problem. Or worse, I get told that the problem is with me. That I'm the problem."

"Being aware of the problem does not mean that you are the problem," she told him. "Little ponies love to kill the messenger. They are foolish beyond reason in that way."

"And you know this because you're the Dreamwalker." Lifting his head, he looked up at her, and did absolutely nothing to hide the pain now seen in his eyes. "Are you going to get in trouble for what you said? What you taught me, I mean. That stuff about intellect, instinct, and perception?"

"Well," she began, "that depends on if you tell others. If you keep it to yourself, things will turn out fine. But if you go about with a wagging tongue, I might very well end up in detention."

For the first time, the colt smiled a real smile, one warm and sincere.

"Sacrifices must be made for the sake of unity," she explained, her voice airy and distant. "Sources of division must be rooted out. We rob ourselves of potential strength and collective weakness is the cost of our togetherness. The idea is that we can be strong individually, or weak together… and that somehow, being weak together is stronger than a single, exceptional individual with superiour traits."

Like a beggar hungry for bread, Overcast devoured Luna's truth.

"You are free to go," she said to him. "More than an hour has been spent. You have paid your debt to society."

"But I don't want to—"

"Begone! I have much to do and I have already tarried far too long."

"But—"

"You seem to be seeking companionship, which puts you in very real danger of self-contradiction. Earlier, you said quite plainly that you did not need friendship. It seems as though I must save you from yourself, before you become a liar and a hypocrite."

"Wait, what? No! I don't need a friend, I just need to—"

Expending no effort whatsoever, Luna vanished the colt and his bookbag to the school's cafeteria, where supper was soon to be served. It was just about that time of day. The sun would soon be setting. She was alone, with blessed silence to keep her company, and a tower full of stairs to defend her from unwanted intrusions. There were books, and poetry that she could summon. Later, when the sun finally went away, there would be stars. Her stars. If the silence held and she listened attentively, they would sing to her—but even the slightest sound would smother their sweet soul-sustaining song.

She flung open the panel overhead, threw open every window, and then just stood there enjoying the breeze. Unsettled as she was, she needed time to think. Time to clear her head. While the rage had subsided, the questions remained. What, exactly, was her dear sister up to? Was she being set up? Would Celestia really turn her into a target for scorn? Did little Miss Sunshine need a convenient darkness so that she might seem brighter by contrast?

Luna could not help but ask herself, why was she the Princess of Detention?

Wednesday Waterkey

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The last time that Luna had stood in her sister's shadow, things turned out all kinds of wrong. She had slept poorly, plagued by dreams that might have been nightmares. Or maybe The Nightmare. She couldn't quite remember and wasn't sure if she wanted to. Overcast's words haunted her and now she fell victim to her own insecurity. What was it that Celestia was doing? Why do this? Was this done with ill-intentions? It was so terribly easy to believe that it was.

But a part of Luna wanted to believe that her sister had good intentions.

Both of them had changed. Celestia was not the same pony that she was a thousand years ago, and neither was Luna. Grass rustled underhoof as she paced to and fro, and some of the guardsponies cast worried glances in her direction when they thought she wasn't looking, or wouldn't notice. What were they thinking, seeing her in this frantic, manic state? Did they worry that she might turn? Did they fear for their lives? Would some of them go and report her erratic behaviour to Celestia? Anything was possible.

Was it possible that Celestia resented her return? Luna considered this as a very real possibility. Now Celestia had to share the spotlight. Was this craven act a means to diminish her? To drive her back into the darkness so that she might be banished again? A part of Luna didn't want to believe this, but she couldn't push the thought from her mind. It was so easy to be suspicious of the atrocious ulteriour motives of others when every night one saw the absolute worst in ponies—and it was astonishingly hard to believe in good intentions.

It felt as though it was tearing her apart.

Overcast was correct; ponies were two-faced. Whatever the little ponies might believe, Celestia was a pony. And a duplicitous one at that. Of course, circumstance necessitated a certain level of treacle-tongued treachery. Sometimes one had to lie by omission—or just outright lie. A dozen lies or half-truths might pass through a monarch's lips before lunch. The job required it. Celestia was good at ruling, and had a thousand years to practice it. She told little lies with ease. Flattering fiblets. Polite half-truths. She might tell a mare that her dress was fabulous for the sake of diplomacy, or kindness, when in truth the garment was a tacky eyesore, a felonious crime against good taste. Such lies were commonplace and allowed society to continue to exist.

When she happened upon the reflecting pool, she looked down at her own reflection, which in turn looked up at her. Would she see it? Sometimes she did. Not herself… but her. She never went away. Sometimes, she popped out of mirrors. Other times, she was a pair of eyes glowing in the dark. Occasionally, she was maniacal laughter with no conceivable source. But not now. Not today. At the moment, Luna only saw herself and was thankful to see her own reflection. There was no horror lurking in the sunshine, only pollen, butterflies, and bees.

"Are you feeling a little blue?" she asked of her reflection in a hushed whisper. "You sure look it. That's fine. Sometimes a pony is a whole lot blue… just like you. Just like me." She saw koi surfacing in the water, and her reflection rippled around them. Somehow, the Luna in the pond didn't seem convinced. Was this something she should be doing? This worry gave her pause. A thousand years ago, when the loneliness ached too much, she had long conversations with her reflection.

Until one day, when her reflection had something to say in return.

Luna shivered and backed away from the reflecting pool.

Of course, she could just go and talk to her sister. That would be the sane thing to do. But doing so would reveal that she was having crazy-thoughts again and that was the last thing she wanted. Celestia would worry; a worried Celestia was a clingy Celestia, and that was just too much to bear. Her sister would cluck her tongue in that annoying way, which was just too galling to deal with right now. Of course, if her sister's plans were truly nefarious, going to her and trying to talk would only reveal that the malevolent plan was working. Could Luna afford to divulge that she was cracking under pressure?

Luna was forced to close her eyes so that she might clear her head.

Self-loathing warmed her flesh while also causing chilly goose-prickles. She had to endure. It was the only way to get better. More than anything else, she wanted to get better. To recover. Not for anypony else's benefit but her own. This was something she had to do for herself, and deep down, she knew she was worth it. She was just having a rough spot. It would pass. Surely it would pass.

Perhaps it was time to place herself into detention.

Luna's hooves had barely even touched the floor when the full weight of her anxiety struck. It bowed her neck, caused her legs to wobble, and the sudden constriction in her barrel made it next to impossible to draw breath. It washed over her like a festering tide, festooning her with the seaweed of shamefacedness and the kelp of culpability. The sensation was so strong that it made her skin crawl in reaction to the illusion of sliminess and she risked drowning in the tidal pool of turpitude.

But just as tides came in, they also went out, and Luna knew that better than anypony.

Perhaps she should have ate something—but it felt too early for that. It was too late now. She had her duties and would have to endure. The room was exactly as she had left it; the chair was even askew, not quite pushed in nor straightened. She trotted around the room on cramped legs and returned to where she'd started several times. It felt good to move, to be free, to have unbridled physicality once again. Even the awful parts still had their appeal; aches, pain, hunger, being too hot or too cold, all of these things were missed when one had no body to speak of.

Having the hiccups once again had been quite an experience, one she had savoured.

What if nopony showed up today? Would it feel like rejection? How awful was it that she wanted students to have detention, just so that she might stave off loneliness? Acknowledging that she was in a weird place, she pulled herself together. She had to be at her best. What if another student needed help? Was it her place to help them? Just what did punishing them accomplish anyhow, and how did that deal with the root of the issue? As the Princess of Detention, surely she had free reign—surely she had total autonomy—to act in the manner she thought most prudent.

She found the notion empowering and somehow felt better.

Again the chair tickled Luna but this time it made her grumpy. She did not wish to be tickled. Truth be told, she had no idea what she wanted, no clue as to what might make her feel better. Even the banana candies in the drawer held no appeal. Why did she like them, anyway? They didn't even taste like bananas. What they tasted like was a mystery even to her. Just what sort of pony liked mystery flavoured candies? Why did she enjoy what she did not recognise?

Quite without warning, she went numb. Oh, the chair still tickled her, and she could feel the weight of her body pushing down into the overstuffed cushion. What was missing was her tumultuous torrent of emotions. It was gone. She felt nothing. Nothing at all. While she wanted to feel relieved about this strange occurance, she felt rather panicked, all things considered. But she had no time to give herself a good sorting out, because there were hooves on the stairs.

When she saw Overcast's face in the doorway, she felt nothing. Not even surprise. Of course he was here. Just as the day before, he was sweaty, disheveled, and out of breath. He lugged his bookbag with him, and if it were any lower to the ground it would drag behind him. Also, he carried a long black case covered in peeling stickers, which struck Luna as more than a little odd because it appeared entirely too feminine. Who was she to judge? A filly entered just after him, and Luna wanted to be irked that he had not offered to allow the curly-headed girly to pass through the door first. But the wellspring of emotion had gone dry and Luna could not muster up even a vague sense of mild annoyance.

Then, the curly explosion came into full view.

She struggled to even walk; no wonder she lagged behind. All four of her legs were covered in what had to be the most ornate and complex set of braces that Luna had ever seen. Struts of brass. Strips of canvas. Articulated joints. Screws. Wingnuts. Her legs were completely devoured by hardware. Every step seemed as though it took tremendous effort. How had she even made it up the stairs?

She was curly-headed, flaxen-maned, and a pale off-white that was almost cream but the fashion-minded might call ecru. What a riotous mess of curls she had; they reminded Luna of Pinkie Pie, of Ponyville. They went everywhere, in every direction, and completely swallowed the filly's ears. The little unicorn stopped, grimaced, winced, and then gave herself a dainty shake—as dainty as one could be when one's legs were completely swallowed up by metal.

"Thank you for carrying my trumpet," she said to Overcast.

Lips pursed, Luna was still miffed that the colt came through the door first.

Why? She didn't need a reason why.

"It's pinchy," the filly announced. "Ooo-ooo-ooh!"

Then, as if by some terrible magic, the filly noticed Luna sitting behind the desk. Little by little, her eyes widened, until they were as large as saucers, and then she froze. Before Luna could respond, Overcast was already snorting with disgust and he stomped his hoof against the stone floor. But the filly did not respond; she was far too frightened to do anything but just stand there. The metal of her leg braces clattered and clanked as she began to tremble.

"Oh, please." Overcast had to raise his voice to be heard over the sounds of clanging metal and chattering teeth. "She's just sitting there. There's nothing scary about her." Then, after a few moments that felt far too long, he added, "You're being really stupid right now, you know."

"Thank you, Overcast. That is enough. You may go sit down."

But the colt did not sit down. No, he stood there eyeballing the frightened filly with a sneer of sarcastic contempt. Luna wanted to scold him, to rebuke him, to command him to go sit down—but for some reason she could not. Something about his actions comforted her, reassured her, and made her feel better. Which was wrong. So terribly wrong. Yet, Luna was compelled to indulge in it for just a little longer.

The sardonic sneer softened and became something else. Still harsh, perhaps, but the hard sarcasm departed. Overcast's face contorted for a time, going through a variety of changes as he fought to control his own breathing. His ears rose, fell, rose again, and then splayed out sideways. He started to speak, but didn't, and then started tugging at the strap of his bookbag around his neck so that he might free himself.

As he disentangled himself, he said, "If you just give her a chance, she can help you. She helped me. Today I got detention on purpose just so I could come back. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Eyes rolling, an explosive snort shot out of both of Luna's nostrils, which caused the ceiling overhead to shudder. She wanted to scream, to shout, to make the colt's ears ring with the sound of her voice. Not out of anger, perhaps, but possibly exasperation. Detention on purpose? What was he thinking? Did he not understand the danger of a permanent record and having the reputation of a ne'er-do-well? Had he made a career choice of rapscallionry? And yet, she was touched that he'd come to her defense. That his efforts seemed sincere. And was that possibly kindness he had shown for the terrified filly?

She wanted to praise him and toss him out of a window in equal measure.

Uncertain, she did nothing; no praise would be given, but the window would remain an option for the foreseeable future. Her jaw cramped ferociously and she realised that her teeth were clenched together. All of her efforts to relax failed her and she remained in what could only be called a snit. Overcast had done this to her and she vowed to return the favour. But that would have to happen later. For now, there was a filly in distress and a princess trapped in the top of a tower. One of these things could be dealt with.

Luna chose the filly.

"Do you have a name?" she asked in a tone she hoped wasn't too saccharine.

A few curls sproinged in terror, but no response seemed forthcoming.

"Aw, come on. Give her a chance." Shoving his bookbag against the wall, Overcast kept his eyes on his scared-stiff classmate. "Yesterday, she taught me a spell and showed me a whole new way to look at the world. Who knows what she might do for you. Could be anything. But probably something nice."

"Where is Mrs. Brambleberry?" she asked through chattery teeth.

"Retired," Overcast replied, "and nopony will miss her." The colt's face puckered as if he ate something entirely too sour, and then he shuddered so hard that his tail whipped out. "She was mean. Heartless. She hated us, you know. I heard everything she had to say and how she thought we were all monsters."

"Mrs. Brambleberry thought we were monsters?" Somewhere within the wild mass of curls, the filly's ears pricked. "I'm not a monster!"

"Neither is Princess Luna. See how it feels? How do you like it?"

The curly girly shivered one final time, forced her teeth to stop chattering, and then took a step back from Overcast. "Well, I don't like it at all!"

"Overcast, I find the quality of your toadying lacking."

The colt turned his head so that he might look directly at Luna. "Toadying?"

"Do not play coy with me. Do not attempt to ingratiate yourself to me. You sought out trouble on purpose to be here today… which rather defeats the purpose of detention, which is intended to be a deterrent. By no circumstance are you supposed to want to come here, much less return. If you continue this farce, if you even think one sarcastic thought, I will order the entirety of the faculty to call you 'Flunkius' as a reminder that Princess Luna has no need for flunkies."

"You just spoke of yourself in the third-pony. Are you alright?"

What came out was a thunderclap in the small room: "Go sit down!"

"I'm going to go sit down now. That seems like a great idea. Excuse me."

As the colt scurried off, she could not help but wonder if his behaviour was a clever ruse to show the frightened filly that everything was fine. Luna gave him a stony stare, the sort of imperious gaze that would turn a cockatrice to mush. When he blinked and turned away, she returned all of her attention to the filly. Once Overcast was seated on a bench, Luna chose to start anew.

"Do you have a name?"

The treacherous mess of curls bobbed when the filly cast a sidelong glance at Overcast and then cautiously made eye-contact with Luna. She swallowed once, then several times, licked her lips once, waggled her jaw, and then after finding her voice she said, "My name is Wednesday Waterkey."

"Why are you here?"

"You don't know?" Wednesday's long eyelashes almost tangled when she blinked. "Mrs. Brambleberry always knew."

"I am not Mrs. Brambleberry."

"No, I guess not. Well, I mean, of course you're not. Why are you here?"

"I believe I asked you first," was Luna's measured response.

"Well"—the filly stretched this word out for some time and she blinked her eyes once more—"My story is pretty typical and boring. Filly falls in love with trumpet and then gives up on everything else in life."

For a moment, Luna almost suffered a slip of the tongue; something almost slipped out that would have certainly made things worse. Cursing her volatile mood, she forced every distraction out of her mind so that she might give the problem at hoof the attention it deserved. Why, she even ignored Overcast, who was doing his very best to be a worshipful supplicant on his bench. She would deal with him later. How she dealt with him remained to be seen.

"Why have you given up on life?"

"Because, life has given up on me."

"And why would you say that?"

"Because. It has."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Well, you will do so anyway. Why are you in detention? Why were you sent to me?"

"There's a couple of reasons."

"This can go one of two ways," Luna warned and she arched an eyebrow in an outright act of hostility.

"We both seem to be rather ambiguous," Wednesday said to Luna in a rather noncommittal manner. "You don't want me scared of you, but you're trying to scare me."

"She's got a point—"

"Silence your tongue, Overcast. Or shall I call you… Flunkius?

"Silencing my tongue right away."

A weary sigh escaped. Luna did not intend to do so, but such was the nature of sighs. They were much like sneezes, or hiccups, or any other sudden, unwanted expulsions of air. Such things happened with frequent regularity and so one learned to live with them, even the really unpleasant release of bodily vapours. Wednesday was still scared, but doing a remarkable job of coping with it. Her standoffishness was probably defensive. Carefully, Luna relaxed her readied eyebrow and took on a wholly neutral expression.

"I don't know if I want to talk in front of him," Wednesday said whilst she jerked her fetlock in Overcast's general direction. "I don't know if you've heard, but he's a weirdo."

"Oh, I know," Luna said, and she took secret pleasure in Overcast's sudden frown.

"I already know everything about you," Overcast said.

"What could you possibly know about me, you weirdo?" Wednesday demanded.

"Well, since you asked." The colt turned a bold, defiant eye towards Luna, as if daring her to tell him to stop. "You're the middle foal of seven and you believe that you suffer some kind of curse of invisibility. For the longest time, you were a model student with perfect grades. You turned in all of your papers early, always did extra credit, and volunteered for every project. That is until recently, when your grades fell into the cellar, never to return, and you started skipping class every chance you got."

Eyes narrowing dangerously, Wednesday's curls began to writhe around her horn as static crackled from its pointy tip. She wickered faintly, inhaled, grunted, and then her lower lip protruded out so far that it was almost comical. Her eyes flashed with feminine fury, her nostrils flared wide, but she said nothing. No, she just stood there, huffing and puffing so hard that it made her leg braces rattle.

"I need to sit down," she said in a heated huff.

With great effort, she went over to a bench, balanced precariously on her front legs, scooted her backside up onto the bench, and then sat down. When she sat up, she almost fell over, but caught herself. The entire time, she never took her eyes off of Overcast, and glowered at him in a manner that Luna was genuinely impressed by. Of course, the colt didn't seem particularly bothered by it, but that didn't stop the filly from doing her utmost to stare him into submission.

"Alright," she said, almost seething. "So you know a few things. Do you know why? How is it that you even know all this stuff, anyhow? I haven't told anypony."

"You haven't told anypony because you ditched your friends," Overcast said. The colt's voice wasn't sarcastic, but rather sad. "Which is for the best because all the ponies you thought were your friends weren't. As for how I know… you talk and say everything when you write in your diary and I—"

"That's private!" Every curl on Wednesday's head now wriggled like electric serpents and static electricity crackled alarmingly. "How could you? How could you!" Then, in a much quieter voice she asked, "What do you mean, my friends weren't my friends? Explain yourself, or else!"

"You're kinda bossy—"

"And you're kind of dead if you don't tell me what I want to know!" Wednesday said, interrupting.

"Every chance they got, those three fillies you called your friends talked about the time you wet the bed during that sleepover cute-ceañera. They laughed about it and made jokes about it all the time. Also, they called you Spit Valve the Trumpet Strumpet behind your back and called you Butt Trumpet to that one colt you used to like."

Wednesday's jaw dropped as she approached the event horizon for a conniption fit.

Overcast asked, "Princess Luna, if she tries to kill me, will you save me?"

To which Luna replied, "No. A well-deserved death might mean your betterment."

The colt swallowed, and then, much to Luna's surprise, he made an effort to save himself.

"You might as well talk about it," he said to Wednesday. "Get it all out. Nevermind how I know. We've only got an hour and the more time I spend trying to explain myself, the less time you have to get all this poison out. I've given up on ponies myself. You… you have your trumpet. Me? I've got nothing. There is nothing to look forward to or to be happy about. So let it all out and save yourself."

"You're very weird!" Wednesday said, almost shrieking in her fuming state.

Shrugging, Overcast said nothing in return.

While Luna faulted the colt's methods, she saw in him great potential. If he could be made to have sincere concern, he might very well be an asset to others. But in his current state, he was a detriment to everyone around him, and also himself. He did have some sense of care, even if he said he didn't, because he listened. And kept listening. He paid attention to details and committed them to memory. In him, she saw a troubled version of herself.

Of course, the current version of herself was quite troubled.

"Ooh, you're a stinky turd and I think I hate you!"

Overcast took it all in stride. "You and everypony else. That's the way it is. Can't change it. So I just stay stuck with it."

Much to Luna's surprise, Wednesday's face immediately softened. Her lower lip quivered, and her staticky curls shed blue arcs. All of her anger vanished in an eyeblink. Groaning, she kicked her hind legs around, trying to get comfortable, and winced when one of her knees popped. She tried to rub it, but there was too much metal and canvas in the way. When she could not relieve herself, she shook her head.

"You shouldn't be fine with that," she said to the colt. "Why are you the way you are?"

"This isn't about me. Not today. This is about you."

"I don't understand you."

"Nopony does… and that's why my life means nothing. But enough about me."

"Well," Wednesday began, "I am Wednesday Waterkey, and I am the Invisible Filly..."

Luna—a pony that could actually turn invisible—listened with rapt attention. Wednesday Waterkey wanted to talk. She wanted to pour her heart out. And from the looks of things, Overcast wanted to listen. Why, the little colt showed more care and attention to the filly's words than most adults, Luna reckoned, and it occurred to her that this might be a problem. Listening to the young was a relatively new concept, as far as Luna was concerned. It had happened at some point during her long absence and was now considered good for foalhood development.

Of course, Luna wasn't entirely sure where she stood on the issue, but at this very second, she seemed to be coming around to the idea. Her problems began young, but she was expected to be seen and not heard. By the time she was old enough to have a voice, she was told to listen by her big bossy sister. And so it came to pass that every awful thing remained bottled up inside of her. That is, until the cork could no longer hold, or however that metaphor ended.

Nightmare in a Bottle had come spraying out like so much tooth decaying soda-pop.

"He was right"—she held out a braced foreleg in Overcast's direction—"I am the middle foal of seven. My parents wanted a horn quartet, but then the accidents kept happening." A dull, sour expression made her look older somehow, as if she'd aged before her time. "One day, I just turned invisible and everypony stopped noticing me. Oh, they noticed my brother, the oldest. He was going into the Guard and he had a bright future as an officer. And… they noticed my other brother, the youngest. Because he's little, and cute, and has mild asthma, so everypony thinks he's going to keel over dead at any moment."

She rolled her eyes so hard that Luna feared that the filly might pull a muscle.

"Me, on the other hoof, I have weak tendons and I'm knock-kneed. I have an actual serious medical condition that everypony just ignores. Builds character, my dad says. It's something I'll look back on and laugh about later, he says. I get to have a super awkward phase, so I get to have super character later, when it matters. Well, my dad can go fall down the stairs for all I care, just like I have so many times. Let's see how he likes it."

Wednesday Waterkey had gone from sad to fuming once again in just a few spoken words.

"When I was younger, I thought the problem was with me. It had to be. I just wasn't doing enough to get my share of what attention there was available. So I became an academic. I got accepted into this school… I was the only one of my siblings to get accepted into this school. I worked my tail off. Did all of the right things. Made all of the right friends. Not friends I particularly liked, but the sort of friends that helped you with your future. Those kinds of friends."

Her braces creaked alarmingly as she tried to fold her front legs into a self-hug and failed.

"One night, at supper, my dad says to me… he says to me, 'Whinny, I'm so glad that I don't have to worry about you. Just keep doing what you're doing. You're one less thing for me to have to worry about and you're doing great.' And that was when I knew that I had made a terrible mistake. Not long after that, I decided to live here, at the school. And I've stopped going home so that my parents have one less thing to worry about."

Overcast quietly cleared his throat as Wednesday took a deep breath.

"When I got my mark, I wasn't that surprised. I figured it was a matter of time, and it was. It just showed up one day and I was relieved. At first, nothing changed. Nothing at all. My mark just allowed the outside to match who I was on the inside. But the change came soon enough. I stopped being happy with my schoolwork. I wasn't doing it for me… I was doing it for my parents, who didn't seem to care.

"My own future didn't seem to matter, honestly… and the more that sank in, the more I retreated. I ditched my friends, because they were part of that future that I didn't know what to do with. My trumpet made me happy. Not much else did. Like he said, I started skipping class so I could focus on my music. I got really depressed and the only time that life didn't feel like an overwhelming chore was when I was tooting my own horn. Now that I've squandered everything, I feel even more depressed and guilty, too. Which only makes me want to shut myself off even more."

Her eyes darted around the room, but found no worthwhile distraction. The faint creak of metal could be heard as she fought against the heavy weight of her own legs, which threatened to pull her off of her bench. Overcast had checked out; his face and eyes were like an abandoned house with the boarded up door left askew and vacant windows that showed no signs of life inside.

Somehow, Luna knew that he still listened, but whatever animated his face was gone.

"I didn't mean for this to happen… I just didn't know how to stop," she said to the floor down below her. "Now, I don't want others around. I just want to hear the music. My music. It's my joy."

These words made Luna think of her stars and their faint song. Even the slightest sound would overwhelm them. She watched as Wednesday fidgeted, with each movement causing a creak or squeak of metal. The little unicorn filly struggled now, she fought to make the words happen. A little horn blower that had all the wind in the world when it came to music, but barely enough air to make speech happen.

"Sometimes," Luna began, "a horn solo is lovely. It can sustain the soul. But there is also great beauty to be found with an orchestra. You have strings, woodwinds, percussion sections, and brass. A whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. Harmony made manifest. Controlled chaos. If you are alone, how will you harmonise with others? What sweet music will you make?"

"I…" Words failed Wednesday Waterkey, and her attempt to answer turned into a squeak that was immediately lost to the cacophony caused by her leg braces. Her mouth closed so hard that the click of her teeth could be heard.

"Deep down," Overcast whispered, "you knew this. You knew this but you rejected it because it's terrible. Sometimes, the truth is too much to bear. Believe me, I know. I'm not sure that anything is worth it, really." The dim windows to his soul showed no signs of life, no warmth, just emptiness. "I might be weird, but at least I know what the score is." He considered his own words for a moment, tilted his head, blinked once, then snorted. "Was that an accidental music pun?"

"If nothing matters, then why are you helping me?" asked Wednesday.

"A street sign still tells others to stop even if they do nothing else with their lonesome existence but collect bird droppings."

"There's something dreadfully wrong with you," she said matter-of-factly. "And there's something wrong with me now because what you said made too much sense. Stop that! Stop that at once, this instant! You stop that!"

"I can't," he replied as he turned his dull stare upon her. "Just like you can't stop blowing your horn. We do what we do. Well, until we don't. But that means dying."

With wide, pleading eyes, Wednesday turned to Luna to ask for help. "Make him stop being creepy."

Something inside of Luna almost laughed; she couldn't quite be sure of what it was, but it might have very well been her inner-foal, that metaphorical concept given reality through the magic of make-believe given a more adult name: psychology. A deadpan expression kept Luna's face from revealing her feelings but she rather enjoyed Wednesday's growing distress. Oh, not in a cruel way, not at all. But she was pleased that the hornblower's mind had been forcibly opened. Wednesday was aware now, and with awareness came growth.

"I'll stop," Overcast said in a soft, defeated whisper. "I feel like a good sulk is needed. Don't mind me… nopony else does. Do go on. I'll continue to be the warning sign that everypony ignores. I'm fine with that."

Unnerved, Wednesday shied away from the colt, who had turned his head towards the wall. She too, looked away, and her eyes lingered upon her trumpet case for a time. Luna had seen the same look upon the filly's face as could also be found on those who had an unquenchable thirst for strong drink. Overcast became somehow even more vacant, and now had a thousand-year, thousand-yard stare that spared onlookers from catching a glimpse of the void found within.

Luna knew that somehow, she would have to scare him away from peering into the abyss.

Where to begin? How did she start? Luna struggled to find the words in much the same manner that Wednesday struggled to find meaning. She completely failed to notice the faint blue glow surrounding Overcast's horn, and had she been paying attention, she would have known that he wasn't peering into the abyss so much as he was eavesdropping on the wretched conversations found within.

"Wednesday Waterkey"—saying a name wasn't much of a start, but it was all Luna had—"you must play your song for others. If you must play your trumpet, at least do so in the open. Play your sweetest songs so that you might bring others to you. With luck, you might find a like-minded companion. But this will not happen if you choose to remain invisible."

The filly scowled and her lip curled up in a feminine snarl. "Miss Rosethorn asked me who I was going to the dance with and I told her I wasn't going and she said I was squandering my life and she said a bunch of malarkey about how important love was and that stung a bit so I just kind of… well, I said some very unladylike things and she got mad and started hollering at me and then I left her and I just couldn't go to my next class because it felt impossible, and then I was tracked down and taken to the disciplinary office and you already know what happened next because I'm here."

Then, before Luna could respond, Wednesday added, "I don't know what I'm doing here. Not here in detention, but here at school. I've lost interest. Everything feels wrong. Every time I get into it with one of my teachers, I keep thinking about having a big huge blowout so that I'll get expelled from school and then I won't have to make the decision myself, it'll be made for me, and then everything will finally just be over, and maybe the crushing disappointment I've caused will make my mother and father angry with me, and they'll shout at me, and while that's not great, at least they'll realise that I exist and that might be nice."

"You cannot fix what is wrong right now," Luna said, and her own honesty surprised her. "The best that you can hope for is to endure and wait it out. The clouds will clear eventually and the sun will come out again." These words almost choked her, and she found them incredibly distasteful to say. What sort of horrible garbage had just come out of her mouth?

Yuck!

Yet, she had said them.

Worse, she had meant them, which made her worry for her diseased mind.

"No matter how long a day seems to last, the sun sets eventually and even the most horrible of days will come to an end. The same is true for the night." Her throat closed so much and so tight that it almost changed the pitch of her voice. "No matter how nightmarish a night might be, no night can last forever. The sun will rise. An extinguished candle and the sudden dark doesn't signify an end, it just means the night is almost over and the sun is coming."

When this was over, Luna planned to make herself eat a bar of soap.

"No offense, Princess Luna, but he makes more sense than you do," Wednesday replied.

Oh, this was just the worst. But Luna didn't let this drag her down. She took it all in stride… or at least in whatever it was that one took it in when one was sitting down. Then, by accident or coincidence, she noticed Overcast's glowing horn and she knew exactly what he was doing. Hesitating, she wasn't sure how to deal with this, but then chose the straightforward approach, because surely that was for the best.

"Overcast, just what do you think it is that you are doing?"

His only response was a twitch of his fuzzy ears.

"I am aware that you are listening, but it is the manner in which you are listening that vexes me. Cease your remote listening at once. This is detention."

Life came back to his eyes, and emotion to his face. Somepony moved into the vacant house. For a brief moment—an eyeblink and nothing more—Luna saw anger. Maybe rage. But it was gone before she could react to it, and there was no point in chastising him. As he regained his senses, he turned his peculiar gaze upon her, and then nothing happened. Nothing at all. Whatever might have been was swallowed up by ennui.

"You know, Princess Cadance is a mean pony," he said to nopony in particular. "For the Princess of Love, she's a really snotty jerk."

"What are you saying, Overcast?" asked Luna.

"Exactly what I said," he replied fearlessly. "I think the upcoming wedding might have her in a snit, but I don't know. Sometimes, she talks funny. In a weird voice. And she keeps talking to ponies that I don't recognise… funny ponies that are somehow even bigger phonies. She keeps saying that it's not time yet and she complains a lot about waiting. I just can't get over just how mean she is though. Princess Nasty has come to—"

"Overcast, that is enough."

"Whatever," he said, almost sighing, and then he checked out once more—but his horn remained unlit.

Unnerved—though she could not say why—she returned the whole of her attention to Wednesday, who sat in open-mouthed shock from Overcast's unsettling outburst. Luna found herself struggling for words. The right words, anyhow. Any words could be said at any time, but only the right words would be helpful. The wrong words could make things worse. A profound sense duty left Luna mindful of her words, and a lingering sense of shame made her regret her trite utterances about light and hope. She would have words with herself later for that little fiasco. There was nothing quite like a good scolding from one's own reflection.

"What is it that you want, Wednesday?" asked Luna.

"I thought I knew," she replied as she cast a bit of side-eye at Overcast. "I thought I wanted a big family, because that's what I knew. But then, one day, after I played my trumpet for a while, it popped into my head that if I had a big family, I'd have my own invisible foal that I'd end up neglecting. A middle foal of my own to pass my curse along to. After that, a family didn't seem so appealing and I guess I just lost interest. When I lost interest in that"—she hesitated, and seemed to reach some moment of profound understanding—"you know, that was when everything really fell apart. I mean, it really just all fell down after that."

Eyes misty, she continued, but did so choked up and with a voice as creaky as her leg braces.

"I was raised to believe that a family is a band. We all made music together, at least we did before there were too many of us. Mom got stampeded by the young ones. By the time that all the young ones were around, the older ones weren't so young at all, and we all wanted different things. I was just stuck in the middle, and nopony cared what I wanted. I wasn't old enough to be with my big brother and my sisters, but I wasn't a baby, either, and I didn't want to be babied. The music stopped at some point… and I guess the band broke up. There was just too much to do and no time to jam."

Looking down at the floor, she murmured, "The band broke up and I became a solo act."

"It seems to me that you need to find a new band," Overcast said, his dead stare unchanging.

"But how?" Then, Wednesday asked, "Wait, do you mean that I need to find a new band or a new family? What are you saying, exactly?"

But Overcast did not respond, and neither did Luna, who kept a wary eye on Overcast's horn, that most dangerous and treacherous organ. Meanwhile, Wednesday seemed to flounder, flummoxed by the unexpected question and her own soul-searching. The answer, of course, was friendship, but the three of them struggled with this very thing, this difficult concept that eluded them.

"Can we just sit in silence for a while?" Wednesday asked. "I need some time to think. I see now that I've made a mistake. But it seems impossible to fix it. I want to fix it though. I want things to be better."

"If you need silence," Luna replied, "then that can be provided. We have silence in abundance."

"Before I shut up, I just wanted to say… I had a really nice time in detention today. I needed this. I thought I'd hate it, but it was nice talking about my problems. You're really very nice, Princess Luna, and I'm sorry for earlier." Then, she turned to look at Overcast, and took a moment to study him. "You though, you're still a creepy weirdo. But that's fine… I guess. As far as creepy weirdos go, you're not so bad."

She hesitated, her legs clanged and clattered with every slight movement, and then a relieved half-smile could be seen on her face. "Mrs. Brambleberry's detention was awful. It made everything worse. There was something about her that always left me feeling drained and exhausted. Tired. Defeated. Worn out. It's like she would just suck the life out of you. She's part of the reason why I gave up, I think. She just… smothered me."

"Mrs. Brambleberry spends an awful lot of time with Princess Cadance, saying mean things, and complaining about how we're all monsters. For whatever reason, Mrs. Brambleberry is helping Princess Cadance plan her wedding, and I can't figure out why. Doesn't seem right."

"Overcast, that is enough," Luna said to the colt. "I do believe a little silence will do us good. We can be silent, but not alone. When we're done here, we can go have supper together, perhaps."

"Dinner detention?" Wednesday's eyes brightened with hope. "That would be nice. I'm sick of eating alone. Really, I am."

"Very well," Luna said. "We shall finish here, and then we shall sup together. Hopefully we'll have a pleasant conversation. But for now, silence. Think of good things to discuss as we dine. Mood determines digestion."

Squinting to see if Overcast's horn had even the slightest illumination, Luna prepared to spend a little time in blessed silence. She was overwhelmed, emotional-but-not-emotional. In fact, she had trouble remembering when her mood had been this stable. Whatever had started with Overcast had continued with Wednesday Waterkey. A welcome continuation, she felt.

There were worse things than being the Princess of Detention.

Top Notch

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Today wasn't the worst.

But… today wasn't the best.

It was neither best-worst, when you have an awful day but something good happened anyway; nor was it worst-best, where you have a spectacular day marred by tragedy. In her life, Luna had experienced both extremes and so she could confidently assert that today was a day. Nothing more, and nothing less. Of course, she hadn't been awake for very long, which meant that there was a lot of day left—or night when it came to her peculiar circumstances—so there was a lot of time for things to go wrong.

And they probably would.

But, they could also go right.

She prowled the private corridors where few went, deep within the bowels of the castle. Yes, a castle had bowels, ships had poop decks, and the Princess of the Night was secretly amused when either of these things were mentioned. Of course, if she roamed through the bowels of the castle, what exactly, did that make her? Why, whatever passed through bowels, of course. Soft, sibilant, susurrant snickering could be heard echoing through the hallways, the sound of Luna's secret myrth.

At the moment, she was having herself a gas.

Barely awake, she had upended her sister's room on a lark. She had turned everything upside down. Topsy-turvy. A bed's proper place was on the floor, but now it was on the ceiling. Along with everything else. When Celestia went to bed, she would be surprised. So very surprised. Of course, Celestia had it coming; this was deserved. Once, when they were very young, so very young, Celestia had left a live owlbear in Luna's room. How Celestia had wrangled the owlbear into Luna's private chambers was still unknown—Luna had never found out no matter how hard she pried—but Luna had gone to bed one morning with the dawn and there it was. A snapping, snarling, beaky creature that was more than a little cranky.

Even worse, it had defecated on the rug.

'Twas a nice rug.

The sort of rug that really brought a room together.

Now, all of Celestia's fine rugs were on the ceiling.

Roaming about with a bounce in her trot, Luna considered taking her captives out on a nature trip. It might do them good. Fleeing from angry nature might improve their constitution—though Wednesday would no doubt find it exceedingly difficult to run. But with luck, they might find an owlbear. Which of course would have to be brought home so that it might be smuggled into Celestia's room. Before release, Luna would feed it a meal rich in fibre, because kindness was a virtue, as well as an Element of Harmony.

Almost on the verge of whistling, Luna's thoughts drifted out of her sister's bedroom and fetched delightful memories of last night's supper—which was her breakfast, or maybe lunch. These things were complicated and the sort of thing one had to deal with when one was the Night Princess. Time and events lost meaning and definition.

Eating in the school's cafeteria meant that she could be herself. No formal rigidity. There were mashed potatoes to be sculpted. Peas, corn, and carrots longed to be arranged into artful pictures with just three colours—one could make a portrait of Celestia if one tried one's utmost, but one dared not make jokes about Her Royal Peaness. Noodles had to be slurped. Food was meant to be enjoyed, but the formality of the Royal Dining Room prohibited that. If she played with her food there, a pony might faint and drown in their soup.

Sometimes, Luna dreamt that there was an ocean in her soup bowl, and that she would go snorkeling in her sea of soup. Snorkeling at the surface was safe; but down in the depths, there were things found in the Sea of Soup best left forgotten. Eldritch horrors that squurglety-blurglety-blarghed down in the brothy deep; they fondled and probed one anothers' orifices with noodly tentacles and spoke forbidden languages that no mortal ear could hear, lest one go mad. The very worst nightmare found down deep in the forgotten dark was Carrothulhu, an unimaginable horror of indescribable description.

He was also the creature most responsible for students failing their geometry tests.

As Luna rose, ascending through the open space in the stairwell, she calmed her thoughts and gathered her focus. There was no need to even flap her wings; she willed herself to move and did so. Eyes closed, her face serene, she decided that tonight she would pay a visit to Twilight Sparkle, in Ponyville. Luna was a mare in need of some advice, and Twilight Sparkle was a helpful, considerate sort who had advice to give.

Celestia saw something in Twilight, though Luna wasn't entirely certain what. Whatever it might be, Luna too saw something in Twilight. A possible rival, perhaps—though a friendly one. Rivalry was good—or could be—because it brought out the best in ponies. Competition was a wellspring for strength. Yes, Twilight would make for a fine rival, but also a great friend. She had already done so much, but Luna was a mare in need of more. Surely, Twilight would not mind the company.

Today would be an excellent day, Luna decided.

But tonight would be even better.

The day, it seemed, had other plans. Upon entering the room, Luna found herself in crisis. Overcast and Wednesday Waterkey had arrived early. The former was laying on the floor while the latter tried to kneel down beside him, but couldn't because of her restrictive braces. Luna barely had eyes on him for but a second and already she knew that this wasn't an act, some fanciful bit of drama. Something was wrong and her heart did what she'd been doing mere moments before during her graceful ascent up the stairwell when it lept up into her throat.

"What happened?" Luna demanded.

"He carried me up the stairs," was Wednesday Waterkey's frantic response.

Standing over the colt and looking down, Luna could see that he wasn't well. Not at all. His bloodshot eyes were unfocused, his breathing shallow, and a light touch revealed that his body had gone cold. Annoyed and worried, she took stock of the situation, and of herself as well, because she had clearly misjudged Overcast. He looked up at her as she gazed down at him and cringed when she touched him a second time.

"Your shoes… cold. Brr."

"He carried you up the stairs?" asked Luna.

"Me, my trumpet case, and his bookbag. All at once. Said he couldn't be bothered to make more than one trip."

Hearing this made Luna's lips press tight together. Reaching out with her mind, she began the search for what she needed, the remedies that would right this situation. Beneath her, Overcast groaned, and when he did so Wednesday grew increasingly frantic. To keep the panic at bay—and before it could spread to her—Luna decided to keep the conversation going as a distraction.

"Why would you do such a thing, Overcast?" asked Luna. "Do you not know your limits?"

"I didn't want her to suffer," was the colt's weak, almost wheezed response.

"But what about you?" With parts of her mind still elsewhere, Luna lifted the colt from the stone floor so it could not leech away more of his precious body heat.

"Oh, I wanted to suffer. I like to suffer. Makes me miserable."

A cushion appeared first; it may or may not have been stolen from a couch. Large, square, somewhat sagging in the middle, and upholstered in a vivid lime green paisley, it might very well have been spirited away from an evidence locker containing items used in a crime against good taste. She put this down on the floor, set Overcast upon it, and he promptly collapsed into a limp heap.

Next, a blanket appeared. This was taken from the bedding closet in the barracks. Thick, grey-green, a little scratchy, and warm in any condition. Luna was quick to mummify the colt in the blanket, while she also propped him up in a sitting position. It would be easier for him to breathe this way, but for him to remain like this she would have to hold his head up.

Then, several cartons of chocolate milk appeared from the school cafeteria. The white waxed cardboard cartons had brown and orange markings, and proclaimed they came from Celestiashire Farms, a magical place where sunshine was converted into rich, creamy, wholesome milk. A straw winked into existence next and scowling her best scowl, Luna concentrated while trying to open the newfangled contraption that she did not particularly like.

"I kept all the suffering for myself," the colt murmured. "Not one for sharing and caring."

"He's not well," Wednesday said, stating the obvious in such a way that only a worried filly could.

"Were you trying to give yourself brain damage?" asked Luna.

"Maybe," replied Overcast, whose eyes crossed so that he might stare down his nose at the straw protruding from the carton. "My milk is tribalist."

Rapidly nearing a point of frustration from whence there was no return, Luna snapped at the colt in a rather angry tone, "How is a carton of milk tribalist?"

Head wobbling on his weak neck, the colt's bloodshot eyes crossed, uncrossed, crossed again, and he somehow gave his head a sad shake. "You don't see the evidence of tribalism right in front of you. That makes me sad. I like being sad. But not like this. As far as sadnesses go, this one is pretty difficult to enjoy, but I'll try my best."

"Overcast, would you please just—"

"Why do ponies drink cow milk, but drinking pony milk is a no-no?"

On the verge of explosive frustration, her patience stretched beyond its breaking point, Luna had no choice but to restrain herself from giving the colt a hard shake. Wednesday now stood beside the cushion, her face pinched with worry, and it appeared as though she might start crying at any moment. Luna too, felt like crying, or venting her temper. The day had started out so well but now her mood churned like a horrible batch of rage-butter.

"There's no way a pegasus or an earth pony could ever open that carton," he finally said as his unfocused eyes struggled to keep Luna in view. "Why do unicorns get all the nice things? It makes me feel ashamed, and not in a way I like."

Luna could not help herself, and she asked, "You like feeling ashamed?"

"Don't you?" Overcast replied.

It was a struggle to hold the milk carton now. Overcast had her dead to rights. With two words, he'd completely eviscerated her, and Luna could not recall ever feeling whatever it was she felt right now. This was new and it was awful. No, it was worse than awful. The milk carton trembled, betraying her and revealing her internal struggle. A part of her wanted to toss Overcast out the window once more—a perfectly reasonable and rational response, given the colt's propensity to incite equicidal fury. But there was another part of her—some new part that had just sprang into existence mere seconds ago—that wanted to give him a hug.

It occurred to Luna that the colt was especially sensitive—perhaps too much so—and that the revelation of just how cruel the world was had wounded him in some way that she herself could not comprehend. Now he was stuck coping with it by whatever means necessary. Which in this case meant shutting others out and choosing his own pain, picking out and selecting whatever agonies he wished to subject himself to on any given day like pulling a cloak out of a wardrobe.

"Wednesday, would you please be a dear and hold his milk for him?" asked Luna. "Also, be mindful of his head. He's been left weakened by extreme overexertion. While it is only fatigue, he is thoroughly depleted. Assist him as necessary."

"Yes, of course, Princess Luna."

"You have it worse than I do," Overcast said to Luna. "So much worse, Dreamwalker. Me? I'll die and all of this will be over. I get to escape. You're stuck living with it. Forever. I was kind of hoping that this would kill me. But it didn't. And now I get to live with even more disappointment. That's life, I suppose."

"Overcast"—his name left a bitter taste on Luna's lips—"silence yourself and drink your milk."

Petty resentment soured Luna's mood into something far worse, a stinky cheese of malodorous melancholy. Overcast deserved life; he deserved to live as a punishment. Sulky and petulant, Luna had no choice but to pull herself together, because her sense of duty demanded it. As much as she wanted to go elsewhere so that she might have a good pout, circumstance would not allow it.

"Were you really wanting to die?" Wednesday asked of her classmate.

"Do you really want to live in a world with tribalist milk cartons?" he responded.

"Yes," she said to him, "if it meant that I could maybe right a wrong or make things better."

"You don't mean that." After a deep breath, Overcast groaned, then looked away. "You're just as selfish and self-absorbed as everypony else. Oblivious to the suffering all around you. The misery. All we do is hurt each other. Again and again. I've heard how you talk. I've heard what you've had to say and I—"

"If I would have known that somepony was listening, I wouldn't've said those things."

"And that's my point, Wednesday. You're not sorry. Not at all. Not even in the slightest. You're only sorry that you got caught."

"Alright you sad little weirdo… if I'm such an awful pony, why did you carry me up the stairs?"

"Because," Overcast said, and a sardonic smile yanked and pulled at his lips, "I wanted all the suffering for myself. Now, I'm miserable and achy and hurting and my brain is threatening to drip out of my nose, and I have an excuse to spend the whole evening in my room. And maybe all of tomorrow. My solitude will be glorious."

"I can change!" Wednesday shouted.

"No, you can't. Oh, you think you can. But you—"

"You're about to have a side of hoof sandwich with your chocolate milk, buster! Now drink! You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot change! Drink!"

Much to Luna's surprise and relief, Overcast drank. He would recover soon enough, once he had some nourishing liquid in him. She considered giving him a banana candy or two. They were right there in the drawer, waiting for somepony to eat them. Alas, poor Wednesday's mood was thoroughly ruined as well, and she scowled at the colt with bared, clenched teeth. None of Overcast's classmates had cared enough to help him, so this was probably new to him. As for Wednesday, she'd no doubt learned that her actions, even those done in private or secret, had consequences. She struck Luna as being the sort of mindful filly that really would take this lesson to heart.

Just as she was about to say something to praise Wednesday, Luna heard the sounds of hooves upon the stairs just outside.

The colt that came through the door appeared lost, as if he had no idea what he was doing here, or why. He entered with great hesitation, paused while in the doorway, and had himself a look around. Everything about him screamed exceptional refinement and excessive dullness. Not stupidity, but an aura of uninterestingness so tangible that it made one drowsy to look upon him. He was obviously a foal of old money, pampered and spoiled beyond the point of no return.

When he had seen all there was to see, he chose to stare a-gawp at Overcast, but at some point he realised that he was being rude. Luna could see the very second it happened, because the pompous little foal shuddered, blinked, and turned away. Casting a distasteful expression at his very surroundings, he strode through the door and only stopped when he was a respectful distance away from Luna.

"Why, hallo, Princess. Fancy meeting you here. Not sure what I'm doing here. Tried to be reasonable."

The colt was dull grey with blue hints, or perhaps dull blue with grey highlights. It was impossible to tell. What colouration he did have that was only mildly off-putting was his mane and tail, which were the colour of sun-bleached bricks, a sort of reddish-brown colour that absolutely refused to commit to either red or brown, but failed to find any sort of satisfying middle ground. He was like a disinteresting wall that cried out for a bit of graffiti or maybe a few playbills—or perhaps an extensive remodeling.

One day, this colt would grow up and be entrusted with the machinery of society, which would be well-oiled, maintained, cared for lovingly, and would never change. The long trip up the stairs had not left him breathless—not even a little—and Luna suspected that the colt was subjected to a regimen of tennis, or perhaps something a lot less exciting, like badminton, where the most thrilling thing that happened was the whistling through one's teeth when shouting, "Gosh, yes!"

"Do you have a name?" asked Luna, who fought the sudden urge to return to bed.

"I am Top Notch, firstborn of Silver Platter and Tally Ho, inheritor of—"

"This is detention," Luna deadpanned. "Not genealogy. Why are you here?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, I know, but I'm not sure what happened. Been something of a troubling day." The colt sniffed once, and that became a persistent sniffle. Liquid sadness welled up in his eyes and his bottom jaw quivered. "Never been in trouble before. This is all very new to me."

"Top Notch—"

"Call me Topper," he said with artificial cheeriness, which was not the same as cheerfulness, in much the same way that sweetness was not sugar.

"Topper, go and sit down. Wait for detention to begin. Also, you should probably be prepared to talk." Extending her wing, Luna gestured at a nearby bench. "Welcome to detention, Topper."

Little Nurse Wednesday Waterkey scowled at her patient and had an atrocious bedside manner, which Luna approved of. When it came to Overcast, Luna had no doubt whatsoever that the wretched, woebegone little colt was thoroughly enjoying himself and was delighted with his current state of dolorous anguish. Perhaps too much so. As for Top Notch, he vacillated between putting on a brave face and almost bursting into tears. Tonight, when she visited Twilight Sparkle in Ponyville, there would be much to discuss. Perhaps too much for just one night.

But, if one peered through a critical eye, there was progress. Little Nurse Wednesday Waterkey was no longer the Invisible Filly as she believed herself to be. She was quite visible to Overcast, and her ferocious frown broadcasted her current state of emotion. Overcast had demonstrable proof that he was not quite as alone and isolated as he thought, and that at least one of his fellow classmates had some sense of care about him, even if that attention came at the cost of bared teeth. The miserable little git deserved all of it and more.

As for his quip about passive suicide, Luna was going to sort him out later.

How, exactly, depended largely upon whatever advice Twilight had to offer.

As Luna considered Top Notch, she began to wonder just how many wounds had festered here in this place. Perhaps everypony had gone about this all wrong. It might be said that the very concept of detention itself was flawed—and served only to exacerbate problems in the worst way. With a cool, almost-but-not-quite collected stare, she pondered that the very tower itself was part of the problem, inaccessible as it was.

The nurse's office was centrally located and easily accessible. Of course, the nurse's office dealt with injuries, aches, pains, tummy troubles, headaches, and other sundry garden variety ailments. So what made detention any different? Luna saw before her injured students; not in the body, as one might expect, but in the mind, which was far more difficult to see. Both Overcast and Wednesday had abandoned home to come and live at the school—but the school had failed them. Their injuries, such as they might be, had gone undiagnosed and untreated.

Luna decided that this was wholly unacceptable and that she would do something about it.

It wasn't so much that her sister Celestia had neglected the school, Luna considered, but that the caretakers that Celestia trusted with her passion project were neglectful in their duties. Which was unacceptable and left poor Luna irked in the worst possible way. Without a spare pair of eyes, Celestia's most beloved institution had suffered. Nopony could show as much love and care as Celestia—and Luna rather doubted that she was up for the task. She had her own problems. But, neither could she turn away. While she doubted that she could run the entire school, or to even perform as an administrator, she knew that she could save a few students from themselves.

It was something that she would discuss with Twilight tonight.

"So, Topper… what happened?" asked Wednesday.

This surprised Luna, who hadn't expected the No-Longer Invisible Filly to initiate the conversation. It seemed as though Top Notch hadn't expected it either, as he now squinted at Wednesday with a confused and rather bewildered expression. Students helping students? Was such a thing possible? Or perhaps the better question might be to ask, was it a good idea? Luna did not know; these were unfamiliar skies and treacherous waters. Overcast was certainly a danger to the process, whatever the process might be, but he also had potential.

"I always thought that detention was all about suffering in silence," Top Notch said to Wednesday. "Not that I've ever been to detention before. I've never even been in trouble before. This is all very confusing."

"I'm sure it is," Wednesday said as she relaxed a little and showed just a smidge of gentleness for her patient. "Was for me as well. Yesterday, I came to detention, and it wasn't what I expected. As for today, I came here on my own. I'm not even in trouble. I just… I just had nowhere else to go."

"You mean I carried you up the stairs for—"

"Yes, Overcast! Now shut up!"

"That makes me feel so much worse. Thank you."

"Will you stop being weird?" she asked of the colt bundled up in a blanket.

"Never."

For Overcast to have hauled Wednesday up all those stairs… how? Luna considered this, her thoughts straying, and she wondered how he'd accomplished this feat. Wednesday was dainty enough, but even seemingly dainty fillies were surprisingly heavy. Plus, she had leg braces, there was her trumpet case, and Overcast's bookbag, which he dragged everywhere. There were a lot of stairs—an unmerciful number of stairs considering the tower had to be well-over one-hundred feet tall—and somehow a young colt had mustered up the magic to make this happen.

Of course, the same young colt had figured out a remote listening spell, on his own.

Something was amiss; how had such talent gone unnoticed?

Luna's mood suffered a violent shift towards hot rage. Too much rage, given the situation. She fought to calm herself, to keep control, and she very much wanted to vent her temper. But on what, or who? What good would it serve? Why was she even this angry? Was such passionate fury even warranted? Drawing in a deep breath, her now-parched throat turned scratchy. Seconds passed, each one succumbing to the unstoppable progression of time.

"Look, you might as well talk about it," Wednesday said to Top Notch. "Overcast probably knows all there is to know about you. Um, it's for the best if you don't ask too much about that. But trust me when I say that Overcast knows. So, he knows, and I'd rather like to help you, if I can, because he helped me and now I feel… um… indebted?"

Then, she added, "If we don't help each other, who will?"

"I've never been in trouble before."

"So, Topper," Wednesday began, "how did you get into trouble today?"

The stuffy colt squirmed on his bench, wriggled this-a-way and that-a-way, sliding from side to side, until at last he replied, "I asked Hidden Gem to the dance."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed in such a way that only happened when a contemptible classmate they couldn't stand was mentioned. Luna watched the interaction, knowing, waiting, and curious. As for Overcast, his bloodshot eyes were alive with pain—which was preferable to his typical dead-eyed stare. He had his lips puckered around a straw and slurped up some much-needed nourishment, what he needed to replenish himself after his endeavours.

"Hidden Gem is just perfect," Top Notch said whilst he began to study his hoof. "My father says she's a crown jewel. A suitable accomplishment. A fine catch. So, obeying his wise instruction, as I always do, I asked her to the dance, and that was how I got into trouble."

"Well, what happened, exactly?" asked Wednesday.

"I just told you," Top Notch replied.

"Um, what did she say? How did she respond?"

"Oh. Well. She refused me. Rather rudely, I might add. I protested."

Luna settled in for what was sure to be a long detention.

"She told you no and you got upset about it?" asked Wednesday.

"Well," Top Notch replied, "I didn't get upset until later. But I tried negotiating. I was very sociable, and did all the right things. She refused to listen. She refused to negotiate. What would happen to society if we all just refused to negotiate? I demanded that she listen to me and give me a chance. I wanted to show her what sort of pony I was, and how she would surely change her mind once I had a chance to present myself at my very best. But she just kept telling me no."

"Hidden Gem has a right to say no," Overcast mumbled as the straw slipped from his lips. A long ribbon of drool accompanied it, stretching until it broke and dribbled down onto the blanket wrapped around him.

"And I have a right to be heard," Top Notch replied. "Surely there is some means to reach reconciliation."

"Top Notch, I don't know how to break this to you, but Hidden Gem likes other fillies."

These words crashed over Top Notch like a wave over a rock—and absolutely nothing happened. Nothing at all. He just sat there, unmoving, scarcely blinking, as if he tried to think great thoughts—but could not. Luna determined that Top Notch wasn't terribly bright, but nor was he stupid. He just completely lacked social intelligence, and so she sympathised with him.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," he said with agonising slowness. "If given a chance, I'm positive that she will grow to like me. Why does that even matter?"

"Is this guy for real?" Overcast whispered to Wednesday, his nurse.

Only Luna's alicorn ears could hear such softly-spoken words.

Wednesday seemed to choose her next words with great care, and she drew in a deep breath before she said them. "Topper, this isn't something that will change."

"Well, why not?" the slow colt asked. "Ponies change their mind all the time. It's just a matter of making a choice."

"She'll never choose to like you," Wednesday said with great patience.

"Well, why not?" Repeating his own words, Top Notch became frustrated. "I presented myself well. I made a good case for myself. I have the right family and the right bloodlines and as far as I am aware, I have no glaring defects."

Much to Luna's surprise, Wednesday tried a different approach.

"Topper… has anypony ever told you no?"

"Well, no. Never. At home, I am given a chance to make reasonable requests and present my reasons as to why my request is valid. Sometimes, I am made to debate with my parents and I am forced to work exceptionally hard to present my case. We have logical and rational discussions about my needs versus my wants. As for the staff and the help, they've always said yes to my requests, as befits them."

Overcast had his eyes closed at the moment, and was thankfully silent. As for Wednesday—the current focus of Luna's attention—the filly seemed lost in thought. Which was good, because it meant that she was thinking about what she had to say. Would she rise to the challenge? Could she help Top Notch, who really was clueless and in need of some friendly assistance? Or was Luna in the wrong, and this was a case of the inmates running the asylum?

"Topper… why is taking Hidden Gem to the dance so important to you? Surely, there are other fillies. Why not ask them? Why not just accept what you've been told and move on?"

"Because," he replied, somewhat hesitant, "my father asked me to take her. I do not wish to disappoint him. He was very direct about it and presented an excellent case. Flawless logic, at least as far as I am aware. I couldn't find the basis for an argument."

"Have you ever told your father no?" asked Wednesday.

This caught Top Notch off guard, and the colt's face contorted into a wizened mess of wrinkles, which made him look prematurely aged. His mouth opened, but when no words came, he closed it, no doubt for the sake of decorum. After his mouth shut, his ears pivoted, which caused the wrinkles on his face to wiggle. What was at first glance a simple question had left the young colt in quite a state of awkward distress, and Luna's heart swelled within her breast.

"You've never told your father no." Wednesday inhaled, her braces creaked as she tried to find a comfortable position to sit, and then she shook her head. "You've lived in a house where nopony tells anypony no."

In response, Top Notch huffed, his cheeks swelled, then he puffed, and then, after all of that, he moaned slightly while rubbing his stomach. Averting his eyes, he finally responded, "Well, it's rather rude, the whole business of saying no. Unreasonable, really. If you do not ask frivolous questions or have ridiculous requests, you will not get told no. My father made a reasonable request. What was I to do? Now I've failed him. How do I go home and face him?"

"It's the other way around," Overcast said, opening his eyes slowly and then blinking rapidly. "Your father failed you. As fathers do. I think that you'll find that everypony fails everypony at some—"

"Overcast, so help me, you're about to eat a hoof sandwich!"

"I'm not wrong," he said to her, shying away. Then, quite without warning, he snatched the chocolate milk carton out of her magic and held it between his front hooves. "Stupid horn refuses to work. Entropy, I guess. The inevitable happens. I'm already decaying. It will all be over soon now that I've hastened my own end."

Somehow, Wednesday Waterkey performed what could only be described as a legendary eyeroll. Little ponies could go the entirety of their lives never seeing one of these rare occurrences, these once-in-a-lifetime events. They were spectacular, curiously beautiful, and truly a spectacle to behold. Luna had seen three of them thus far, and witnessing the forth filled her with a profound sense of wonder. It was a reminder that there were still fantabulous things to be treasured in the world, but one had to be patient and wait to witness them.

"Ow!" Wednesday hollered as she attempted to raise a front hoof to press against her eye. But she failed because the hinges in her brace would not allow her leg to bend in such a way. "I think I pulled something!"

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Overcast said to her with sincere warmth and enthusiasm.

Of course, this did not endear him to her and she shot him a dark look to warn him that he was on dangerously thin ice. Luna found herself somewhat charmed by the incorrigible misfit, which meant that she was most certainly one of the patients in the asylum. As for Top Notch, he wore a befuddled but somewhat amused expression, like a tourist who saw a quaint window display filled with regional cheeses that had unpronounceable names.

"Now my head hurts," Wednesday whined.

"If I had a head like that," Overcast said whilst clutching his carton of milk between his clumsy hooves, "it would hurt too."

Miffed, but lacking a suitable comeback, Wednesday ignored Overcast and returned her attention to Top Notch. "So what happened after you were turned down?"

"I became upset, that's what happened." A thick frown appeared on Top Notch's face. "Some of my classmates mocked me. Then I was mad and I don't recall ever being angry before. Upset, certainly. But hot-blooded anger? Never. Had myself a bit of a meltdown. Made a fool of myself, I suppose. But that wasn't the worst of it."

"You mean it gets better?" Overcast asked.

"There's something wrong with him," Top Notch said to Wednesday.

"Oh, I know. There's a lot wrong with him. But what about you? What happened?"

"It's hard to remember, actually… I, well, I was… no, there was…" Top Notch forced himself to stop, shook his head, took a deep breath, and then he tried again. "Was really peculiar, now that my head has cleared. Miss Prickly Pear pulled me aside. She pulled me into the broom closet, actually. The smell of soap made me want to sneeze. As I was having my meltdown, she was there with me… and she said something, I can't remember what. It was strange. Really strange. I was crying so hard that I saw lights flashing in front of my eyes.

"Everything I kept inside just flowed right out, and then I felt curiously drained somehow. Just… empty. Like… it was almost like life had lost all meaning and there was no point in going on. I went off to lunch and then I felt better. But I still feel off, even now. I suppose that's the aftereffects of an emotional blowout. But… well, a part of me wants to be angry about all of this, on account of just how unfair it all is, but I still feel so, well, drained and empty. Like I lack the energy to be emotional."

Overcast, wrapped in his oversized blanket, looked rather like a hooded mystic. "Miss Prickly Pear is one of Princess Cadance's wedding planners. She keeps telling Princess Cadance the time is now, and she's hungry, and they should have the feast. But Princess Cadance keeps telling her to wait for the wedding."

Then, in a much lower voice he added, "I don't trust Miss Prickly Pear. The things she says…"

"I've learned my lesson, I think. Won't make the same mistake twice." Top Notch licked his lips, blinked once, and then rubbed both of his forelegs against his well-fed barrel. "What do I tell my dad? How do I sort this out?"

"Well, to start," Overcast said in a weak voice, "you tell him that ponies aren't prizes to be won. Ponies aren't furniture, or accessories to match your home decor and lifestyle. You don't pick them out because they're a good fit. Ponies are not rugs that you walk on."

"I made that mistake." Wednesday bowed her head in shame. "I picked the sort of friends that were good for my future. Bad mistake. Awful." Her braces creaked as her body shifted, and she leaned closer to Overcast. "You know, if you keep that up, I could end up as your friend. I might even hug you to make you feel better."

In response, Overcast's eyes narrowed, and the skin of his nose wrinkled in disgust. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," she said with a mischievous smirk. But her smirk turned upside-down and she retreated back away from Overcast with fearful eyes. "If you had died carrying me up the stairs, what would have happened to me?"

"None of my concern." The moody colt shrugged. "I'd've been dead. Why would it matter?"

"I could have plummeted to my death!"

"And so few seconds to enjoy it—"

"You creep!" She bared her teeth at him once more. "You just wait, you'll get yours."

"Probably." He nodded. "I am very deserving."

"You know…" A shift of mood caused Wednesday to lean in close to Overcast once more. "It feels good to talk again. To care. I got lonely. When you offered to help me up the stairs today… it made me… well, it made me feel something. Something came back to me, like birds returning in the spring. Thank you, Overcast."

"Don't make this weird," the colt whispered.

"I think it's too late for that," Wednesday replied. "Today has taught me that I want to help other ponies. That's why I came to detention. As much as I like tooting my own horn"—she smiled, pleased with her own joke—"I think it helps me to help others."

Clearing his throat, Top Notch had this to say: "I got sent to detention because I behaved like an uncivilised boor. A vulgarian. But… I'm glad I came. You've given me a lot to think about, and for that, I am thankful. Really! Honestly. Sincerely! It's been strange, but my mother says I should expose myself to new and unfamiliar things so that I'll appreciate just how good I have it."

Both students turned to look at Overcast, but it was Wednesday who asked, "And what did you do today?"

"What didn't I do?" Overcast replied with an air of criminal vagueness.

"For what crime against equinity were you caught?" asked Luna, who cursed her own sudden interest.

Overcast grinned. It was not a wholesome grin. In fact, it wasn't much of a grin at all. More like a wolf's grin, just before it licked its chops and had a delightful meal of pony. It was a malfeasant facial contortion that revealed far too much of Overcast's inner nature. It was the same grin that Luna had flashed a thousand times, and would flash a thousand more. In fact, it was the selfsame smirk that she had worn walking out of her sister's room after rearranging all of the furniture.

For the very first time in all of her long and storied existence, Luna found herself afraid of a foal.

Wearing a stern, almost matronly expression, Wednesday asked, "What did you do?"

Life returned to Overcast's eyes. They were vivid now, with scary chilling warmth. His smirk became a scalene triangle, which revealed a somewhat crooked tooth that had twisted sideways. Wrapped in the blanket, which rather looked like a hooded cowl, he made for an excellent villain, albeit a very tiny and frail one. But the reveal, like so many other aspects of him, was all for show, as evidenced by how his expression turned deadpan and neutral once more.

"I teleported a frog into the teacher's lounge watercooler and I—"

"And it didn't die?" Wednesday interrupted, evidently unable to stop herself from her sudden outburst.

"Not this one." Eyes distant for a second, Overcast shook his head. "It's tricky to move matter through the glass. I kept failing, and not knowing why." He turned to look right at Luna, his eyes filled with adoration and worshipful zeal. "Princess Luna taught me how to focus. I felt my way through the glass and kept everything intact."

"Oh bother," Luna gasped, and she was certain that there'd be consequences for her actions.

Dreadful consequences.

"The eyes lie," he continued. "Especially in water. It's like how light bends in a pool. If you use your eyes, the frog will die. I relied upon my perception." He winked.

Luna shuddered.

"I had to feel my way around and touch the place where I wanted the frog to go. And the frog arrived dead center in the water bottle. And not half-in and half-out like so many other attempts."

"Oh, that's gruesome," Top Notch remarked.

"Yeah, I grew some today," Overcast said, flashing his scalene triangle smirk once more. "Carried a rather heavy filly up the stairs. Her back-half weighed a ton and—"

Wednesday's interjection came out as a low feral growl. "You say one more word and you will die. I will kill you with kindness."

Before Overcast could respond, Princess Luna interrupted, saying, "I think we're done here. But we're not done. I propose that we leave early, and go have supper together. Fellowship is what we need, and the school cafeteria is a far more conducive environment for making friends. The sharing of bread makes for propitious circumstances so that bonds might develop."

She drew in a deep breath before she continued, "Things need to change. For all of us. For the school. I am going to seek out some advice and then I will need to make some difficult decisions." With kindness on her face, she drew in Wednesday's attention. "I will have a guard posted at the entrance to the tower. He will help you with the stairs, because let us face it, you will return. It is as you said, you had nowhere else to go. I would like your help as a volunteer. Surely, there will be others who come in need of help."

"What about Overcast?" asked Wednesday.

"I doubt we could keep him away," replied Luna. "But he will need to clean up his act."

"I don't need to clean up my act… you need to clean up society. For me to exist, there has to be the right conditions to create me, when those conditions disappear, so will I."

The biting criticism stung and had a ring of truth, even if it were a grandiose statement with an impossible directive. Luna felt the need for reform—at least here in the school—was obvious. She bowed her head, nodded, and then felt a great deal of concern when she saw the stark sadness on Overcast's face. He took no joy in his admonishment, no pleasure. When he hung his head, Luna felt like doing the same.

Sighing, she felt her stomach threatening to growl.

"Come," she said to her detainees. "Let us go and have a pleasant conversation over supper. I want you to tell me what you think needs to change here in the school. If you can do that in a constructive, sincere way, I would truly appreciate it. Top Notch, do you think that you could carry Overcast's book bag and Wednesday's trumpet case? I have two foals that I must carry down the stairs. Your kindness would be appreciated."

"Glad to be of service, Princess Luna!"

Twilight Sparkle & Spike

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Luna was stricken with a powerful melancholy as she drifted down from Canterlot. It struck from out of the blue, which is to say it came out from something blue, and she was very blue indeed. When things came from out of the blue, she always felt responsible, which made Luna a very responsible pony. If something went wrong, she was somehow responsible. This profound sadness seemed to add weight to her body, or maybe it conspired with gravity to thwart her somehow.

The same forces conspired against her sister when she stepped on the scales.

Luna plummeted like a leaden snowflake towards the faint lights of Ponyville below. It was dark now, well into the evening, and the sun had long since gone to bed. The weight became a living thing, something that crawled through her guts and the tug she felt inside of her felt as though this wretched mass threatened to tear its way free from her stomach. It was almost unbearable, but she would endure. Unless of course, she failed to do so, and then who knew what might happen.

When she had left the company of her detainees, Overcast had convinced Wednesday to play him a sad song on her trumpet. And what a sad song it was. Beautiful, haunting, a soulful wailing sound that stirred one's humours. It took very little convincing on Overcast's part to get Wednesday to turn the school's cafeteria into a concert hall. No doubt, it had caused the black bile to flow, which was most certainly responsible for Luna's sudden shift in mood. If a bit of sorrow was the cost of such pulchritudinous music, it was worth it.

Luna would endure so that she might hear such sweet sounds yet again.

Once, a very long time ago, an exceptionally long time ago, though for Luna it felt as though it was just a few years ago—a feeling that greatly worsened her mood—something had come out of the blue during a rather important formal feast. What had come out of the blue was unmentionable, and the aftermath involved a rapid evacuation of the feast hall, with all of the guests going to the mead hall so that they might recover from the latest out of the blue incident with plenty of strong drink.

The whole affair was so sordid, so scurrilous and scandalous, that it was immortalised in a play called Yon Ill Wind, which caused the playhouse to be sold out for an entire moon. Of course, the real shame was that the play was wholly forgotten, because Luna herself had passed into myth during her long absence. An entire cultural milestone dispersed on the winds of change—which thankfully had nothing to do with Luna and she was in no way responsible.

Ponyville awaited.

The Ponyville Library was dark, save for but a few lights in the living quarters. It was also locked, not that it mattered. A lock hadn't been invented that could keep Luna out—not even the really fancy ones that her sister had commissioned to protect her diaries and her journals and her treasure chest full of war trophies and knick-knack-bric-a-brac. These locks were mundane and would only keep the double door secured against the most common of intruders.

As Luna stood there, peering at the locks in the moonlight, she knew that Overcast would be able to open them with very little effort, if any was even required at all. This troubled her somewhat, but it also made her feel good. Though, feeling good about it made her feel guilty—but said guilt was somewhat pleasurable, like eating a pilfered cookie or delighting in ill-gotten gains.

Something had to be done with Overcast—but what exactly was unknown. Luna knew how this path ended, because she had walked it herself. Isolation. Delighting in the misery of others. A general lack of conscience. Why, he'd even cut himself off from his parents, who surely loved him a great deal and probably had no idea why their son hated them. It pained Luna, but she knew the final outcome would be villainy if something wasn't done. Such dark potential had to be dealt with before the worst possible outcome happened.

Turning her body into vaporous shadow, Luna poured herself through the keyhole.

Somepony was singing. More specifically, Twilight Sparkle was singing. To be exact, Twilight Sparkle was singing and she did so in the shower. So, she was a shower-singer, just like Celestia. How very droll. Only the most annoying of optimists sang in the shower, in Luna's experience. Of course, it could also be that Twilight sang while soaking in the tub, that was also an option. To know the truth, one would have to intrude—which was exactly what Luna decided to do.

She drifted, spilling from tenebrous shadow to shadow, formless and without body. But not without perception. She could still see, still hear, she could touch and experience sensation. While she understood how this worked, it would be impossible to explain to a common little pony without driving them barking mad. Little ponies liked to see out of two eyes, in a wholesome, regular, mundane manner. Being able to see around them in a three-hundred and sixty degree field of view in all conceivable directions overloaded their little pony brains, gave them headaches, and left them a drooling mess.

One day, she might very well grant Overcast The Sight, because the little stinker had it coming.

So, Twilight Sparkle wasted a perfectly opportune time for meditation and self-reflection with shower singing. Little ponies randomly burst out into song, on occasion. Of course, big ponies did too, much to Luna's dour consternation. It was like some kind of curse. Life might already be perfectly dreadful, boring, and tedious, when all of a sudden the urge to start singing would strike like lightning. It was an especially perfidious magic, one that inflected possession upon the body and made one flail about whilst caterwauling and inciting a state of bedlam.

Worst of all, during Luna's entire one-thousand year absence, no cure had been found.

Twilight Sparkle sang a nauseating tune about casting one's troubles into bubbles and then popping them one by one, which somehow absolved one of all their tribulations. It was the worst sort of rubbish, saccharine, sickly-sweet, and an outright falsehood. One simply did not cast one's troubles into bathtime bubbles and—oh no! Luna felt it gnawing at her consciousness! The dreadful urge to join in and sing!

Left with no other choice, she had to ruin the moment; she had to ruin Tubtime Troubadour Twilight Sparkle's song and dance number before Luna herself could be infected with this malignant magical malady. Luna had no desire whatsoever to pour her heart out in a heartfelt duet with her sister's prized and much-beloved apprentice. Already, the urge was terrifyingly strong, and gaining strength with each passing second.

Teeth bared in a wolfish smile, Luna materialised like a grim spectre right beside the tub, an ill-omen, a dire sign of worse fates yet to come. When she was mostly solid, she said, "We bid thee a good even, Twilight Sparkle."

Naturally, Twilight Sparkle responded in much the same way any little pony taking a bath might respond when the embodiment of nighttime terrors manifested right next to the bath in which they sat and smiled at them. She screamed. Her silly song became a shriek of terror, reaching a pitch that would surely disrupt the biological directives and reproductive urges of the local bat populations. Eyes wide, uvula wagging from side to side, Twilight Sparkle produced a truly impressive volume, one worthy of praise.

The soap—her soap—levitated aloft in a magenta dweomer fell prey to gravity when her magic failed. There was a satisfying "THADONK!" sound when the soap struck the sidewall of the wrought iron clawfooted tub; it then bounced, rising up in a resplendent arc, and then much to Luna's amusement, the soap went into Twilight Sparkle's wide-open wailing maw, where it was promptly swallowed in an accidental manner to prevent an unhealthy bout of airway restriction.

It was no different than swallowing a horse pill, and at least the soap was slippery.

Having witnessed an entirely logical but extremely chaotic series of random events, Luna beamed. Her earlier melancholy took wing and her recalcitrant humours did an on the spot correction. At least Twilight was no longer screaming. The poor young mare wagged and waggled and waved her tongue about while her eyes crossed and uncrossed, as one did when one swallowed a bar of soap. Luna took in every detail, every sound, every bit of sensory input and committed them to memory, because Twilight Sparkle would relive this moment in dreams for decades to come.

Her hind legs kicked against the tub as she thrashed about, shuddering, and the waves Twilight created splashed over the sides of the tub, soaking Luna. Tub thumping, the unicorn flailed about, no doubt suffering some distress from the taste left on her tongue. Luna might have sympathised, but she was far too amused at the moment. Enough amusement for two, if one took the Royal We into consideration.

"Blargh!" Twilight blarghed, no doubt blarghing blarghily to clear her soapy throat.

"Blargh?" Luna's mimicry was a perfect match.

"Blargh!" Twilight blarghed again. "My thungue! My thungue thasthes badth!"

"Yes, one might imagine that your tongue does taste like bath. Though with that grammar, it seems as though your tongue was in need of a good scrubbing."

"No, badth! Badth! My thungue thasthes therribthle!" More water and suds were flung willy-nilly when Twilight began to wave her forelegs around. "Geth outh!"

"We are going to fix some tea, Twilight Sparkle, and We would be delighted if you would join Us. We shall be in your kitchen, making Ourselves at home. Please, join Us at your earliest convenience."

"Geth outh! Geth outh!"

Chuckling to herself, Luna retreated and left the soap-swallower to recover on her own.

The kitchen was a tiny space, barely more than a nook. Luna liked kitchens; she liked being domestic. There was something wholesome and good about the mindless work found within a kitchen. Being who and what she was, she didn't get much of a chance to put her domestic skills to use, but relished the rare opportunities when the moon and stars aligned in such a way that fortuitous circumstance allowed her to do what she was about to do right now.

Absolutely no soot marred the perfectly clean wood-burning stove and Luna knew right away that Twilight used magic for heat. She found a tea kettle, but when she opened the cupboard door, she found books. Not what she expected. Peering in, Luna examined the books in the cupboard, and discovered that they were all kitchen related; cook books, food culture, a twenty-seven volume anthology about the history of kitchens—which also included a visual guide—and quite the collection of teatime romance novels, in which ponies had romantic encounters whilst consuming hot cuppas. These were the most wholesome, most innocent of romance novels; the ponies within did nothing more than cast longing glances at one another, batting one's eyelashes, or leaning in close with the table as a chaperpone between them.

The only steamy happenings in these novels were the freshly poured cups of tea.

When Luna opened the next cupboard over, she felt a hot stab of frustration right in whatever organ housed her reserves of patience. More books. Not food, as one might reasonably expect, but books about food. Guides to edible mushrooms, encyclopedias of nutritious roots, several sizable guides about how to eat bugs and grow to appreciate them, and one very helpful novel about how to stock one's pantry—which Twilight had obviously neglected to read.

As for the third cupboard… Luna slammed it shut before she could discover which books had been stashed in there. Surely Twilight had plates, dishes, cups, glasses, saucers, and the like. But where? Stepping out of the cramped kitchen, Luna had a good look around, but found nothing obvious. She turned about, trying to make sense of things, and that was when she noticed the narrow door. A broom closet, no doubt. Or some kind of closet.

When she opened the door, she found several telescopes—but nothing else.

Reaching out with her wing, she began to rub her temple in a familiar way. This is what happened when irresponsible school administrators allowed Home-Ec to become an elective class for the gifted students, who, in all of their powerful brilliance, could not be bothered to learn how to keep a home. Would Luna have to take it upon herself to teach Home-Ec? That seemed likely.

Stepping back into the kitchen, she had another look around, but remained baffled.

She was Luna; Princess of the Night. The Night Princess. Lady of Darkness. Destroyer of Grogar. She had rained down fire and brimstone upon cities for offenses far less than this current source of upset. So dangerous and frightening was she that not even Tartarus could contain her, and so she'd been bound to the moon, lest she rule Tartarus as its Queen within the hour of her arrival. Yet for all of her supposed power, Luna found herself stymied by Twilight's kitchen.

"In the modern parlance," she muttered to herself, "what the actual fu—" But before the word could be finished, she noticed a small, somewhat fearful looking and incredibly sleepy baby dragon. She considered him briefly, watched as he wiped the corner of one eye with his claws, and the faint scent of woodsmoke permeated the kitchen.

"I heard a bump in the night," he said.

"I am the one who goes bump in the night," she replied. "None may dare bump in my domain, lest they be bumped themselves."

"Kinda rude." His claws flexed, his tail bobbed, and the tiny wyrmspawn peered up at her with curious draconic eyes. "How's a baby dragon supposed to get any sleep?"

"Spike"—her words turned soft and sweet—"where does Twilight keep the plates and dishes? The teacups? The tea?"

Claws out, as if reaching, Spike waddled into the cramped kitchen, went to a low cupboard door, and pulled it open. "Everything is kept where I can reach it. She insists. Twilight doesn't want me to fall down off the counter and hurt myself."

"I see," Luna said, and the logic of it all made her brain ache.

"Do you need me to heat up the teakettle?" he asked. "I've gotten really good at it. I have! I promise. I hardly ever hiccup and accidentally send the kettle off to Princess Celestia."

Well, that would explain the bumps, bruises, and random headaches, as well as the clean stove.

The dragon looked up at her expectantly, with faint excitement glimmering in his eyes. Celestia was no doubt asleep at this hour. If Spike sent a kettle by mistake, it could be rather amusing. Not that Luna would ever make Spike hiccup or cause an accident. But… if he did hiccup, this could be entertaining. With a regal sweep of her wing, and a bow of her noble head, she stepped aside—and bumped her royal backside into one rather chilly icebox.

"Ah!" Then, rapidly composing herself, she said to Spike, "Your assistance is necessary."

"I'm a really tough dragon," he said, still sleepy. "It's not like a fall off the counter would hurt me. I'm a big dragon!"

"Indeed, you are," Luna agreed as Spike went to work.

With Spike's assistance and Luna's magic, the late night meal and tea did not take long. It felt good to be domestic, but it felt even better to have company. Spike was surprisingly adept in the kitchen, and Luna, in all of her long life, had never met a dragon with culinary skills. Sometimes they scorched their prey before gobbling them, but not often. Contrary to popular belief, dragons in general did not like ketchup, and never bothered with condiments.

"Princess Luna?"

"Yes, Spike?"

"Do you think… do you think that Princess Celestia will be upset about the cast iron skillet?"

"Oh no, Spike," Luna replied without hesitation, because she worried about the baby dragon's well-being. "My sister is very understanding. The skillet will return by morning, of this I am certain."

"All that hot oil, and the corn fritters." Spike sighed and his tail slapped against the floor behind him. "I was looking forward to eating those."

"So was I, Spike. So was I." Then, as Luna dumped a few sugarcubes into her cup, she said to Spike, "Your caretaker is bound to be quite ill. Twilight is due for a terrible case of bubble guts."

"Bubble guts?" asked the baby dragon, who now scooted closer to Luna.

"Yes, Spike. The frothy trots."

"Frothy trots?" He looked up at her, eyes wide and brimming with curious concern.

"The green apple splatters."

"Did Applejack make her sick?" asked Spike, still wholesome and innocent.

"No, Spike, Applejack did not." She struggled to keep a straight face, and fought against the legion of sniffle-snorts jockeying to slip out. "But Twilight will be in need of a very brave dragon—"

"I'm brave!" he announced while pointing to himself with his claw-thumbs.

"—one willing to face mortal peril—"

"There's a list," Spike said to Luna, "of all the mortal peril we've faced, including you and Discord."

Unable to finish the sentence she had started, Luna had no choice but to say another. "No evil you have faced so far will prepare you for what reckoning surely comes your way. Be brave, Spike. Be steadfast. Summon up all of your courage and should you survive this, a feast of ice cream will be your reward."

"Alright." The baby dragon—clearly not knowing what he was in for—smiled up at Luna.

Luna had situated herself on a pile of cushions in the middle of the floor, with the tray full of food and tea nearby. She lay on her stomach, almost in the loaf position, but she had her forelegs out in front of her, bent in such a way that they formed a makeshift cradle. A baby dragon rested there, and his smokey snores threatened to make her sneeze. It was a small price to pay for being warm and Luna could not help but be somewhat envious of Twilight Sparkle's scaly companion.

He'd fought to keep his eyes open, he struggled to be good company, but his efforts were doomed from the start. Now he slumbered in sweet repose, and Luna was mindful to keep his dreams pleasant, simply because she could. Spike was an innocent; thus far during his short life, he'd committed no great transgression that marred his conscience, and because of that, Luna's darkness found no purchase within his mind. Still, some dreams could be somewhat scary, or uncomfortable, or just too intense, and she spared him these encounters.

At least for tonight.

She owed him that.

"That's my dragon."

The words were chilly. Direct. Bold. Sipping some tea in an unconcerned manner, Luna measured them, weighed them, and decided that yes, Twilight would make for an excellent friendly rival. Only the best things could come from this relationship. Luna rationed out the attention she gave Twilight—a bare glance, hardly even an acknowledgement—and she swallowed her tea.

"Your devoted helper has remarkable kitchen skills. Your ceaseless nurturing produces delightful dividends."

As expected, Twilight wavered between her protective possessiveness and her need to acknowledge this glowing praise. She crossed the room, still somewhat damp, and climbed atop a pile of cushions that Luna had laid out. What she didn't do was take Spike from his comfortable place, sprawled out in the cradle of Luna's forelegs.

The game was on; how it played out depended upon the players.

"Spike should be put to bed," said Twilight. "If we talk, as I suspect that we're about to do, we'll wake him."

It was so dull, having to explain things to those who just didn't get it, but Luna maintained her sense of decorum. "Not a word will be heard by these earfrills. Sound is a sensation that is easily redirected."

"Oh." Looking down, Twilight eyeballed the food warily; for some reason, it seemed as though she had no appetite. But she did begin preparing a cup of tea. "Princess Luna, before we discuss whatever you came here to talk about, I feel that there are a few things I must mention."

"Such as what?" asked Luna, who knew her role and played it well.

"Modern ponies like privacy," Twilight replied. "We have locks. Doors. Boundaries. We have social contracts that hold us to respecting them. Ponies get upset when a stranger appears in their bathroom."

"Are We a stranger?"

"Ponies get upset if a friend pops into the bathroom unexpectedly. I don't know how it was back in the old days, but now, we have social niceties. We knock. We wait for an invitation. We respect the privacy of others because we want our own privacy respected."

"Doest thou refer to thyself in the Royal We?"

Twilight panicked. Her eyes lit aglow with sudden concern and her response came out as a hurried stammer. "W-what? No. No. No, never. I speak in the collective sense, not in—"

"So thou speakest of mob rule. Anarchy. Rebellion."

"What? No!"

A pleasant prickle warmed Luna's heart, and she chose to withdraw just a bit. She wanted a rival, not an enemy, and it was just too easy to fluster poor Twilight. With a smile, Luna revealed her intentions, and Twilight huffed with nervous laughter. After a few gasps, Twilight's laughter became sincere, warm, and was a welcome sound. Celestia's apprentice was a goof, and for that, Luna was grateful.

"You had me going there," said Twilight as she dropped a half-dozen sugarcubes into her tea. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, her laughter vanished. "But seriously. You might scare a pony to death. That would be bad. You and Pinkie Pie both."

"Ponies forget that the Element of Laughter once belonged to me." It was a carefully calculated move to lay her soul bare. No pretenses. No obscuring speech. Not even a bit of duplicity. Just honesty. After all, friendly rivals had to stay friendly. Luna allowed her mask to slip away and she turned herself to face Twilight, unobscured. "Don't get me wrong, Twilight. I don't mind that she has it… I'm glad that she does. She deserves it. I just wish that ponies would remember that I was once like her. And that's my problem… ponies don't remember me at all."

"I'm sorry, Princess Luna. I really am."

"Thank you."

"But seriously though. Doors exist for a reason. Locked doors even more so." Squinting, Twilight poured entirely too much cream into her tea, and just before it overflowed, she slurped up the froth. After licking her lips clean, she said, "You must respect the homes of others."

"All of Equestria is my home. Am I not welcome in my own domicile?"

Twilight did not respond right away—no doubt because she had learned her lesson. Licking some cream from the rim of her teacup, her eyes narrowed as she attempted to probe Luna's intentions. Never once taking her eyes off of Luna, Twilight lifted up a cookie and then jammed the entire thing into her mouth. The cookie, Luna could not help but note, was roughly the same size as a bar of soap.

This—this had to be what Celestia saw in Twilight. Or maybe it wasn't. Whatever it was that Celestia saw in this unicorn just wasn't discussed. This was a canny creature, while also being innocent and rather naïve. Yet, she wasn't a total dupe. Twilight had sincerity, Luna decided, and an abundance of sincerity could be mistaken for naïveté. The earnestness was charming, at least in small portions. Luna knew she was far too jaded to endure this for too long. While this realisation made her sad, it also made her feel better, though she could not say why.

"Fine," Twilight said at last. "You will always be welcomed as my guest, even unannounced, but only on the condition that you respect the privacy of others. My door will always be open to you, but only if you hold to our agreement."

"You had to know that I spoke in jest, yet you made this offer anyway. Why?"

"Because"—Twilight raised her teacup in what was almost a salute—"you need a friend. You came to me for a reason. After making yourself at home, you made food and tea in abundance. Meaning that this will be no hour-long chat, but probably an all-nighter. Which means that you either came here to pour your heart out, solve a problem, or maybe both. But you're here for a purpose. You've set out to accomplish something this night. Right now you're obviously testing me, perhaps so that you can determine what you feel safe telling me. If I give you an open door policy"— she inhaled before she became short of breath—"you might trust me more and waste less of my time with testing."

It occurred to Luna that Twilight was not what she expected. Twice now she had underestimated her, once as Nightmare Moon and also just now, as herself, fully in control of her own mind. In a moment of hubris, Luna realised that she'd underestimated Overcast as well. Either she had grown careless or exceptionally clever ponies had become more common. She decided that her sister's wise rule allowed for more clever ponies. Celestia's focus on education and better living standards certainly showed dividends.

Of course, Luna was somewhat afraid of Overcast for some reason, but not afraid of Twilight. This young mare, this exceptional unicorn represented all of Celestia's hopes and was the result of centuries of hard work. Twilight was the sort of unicorn that came into existence only when all of the conditions were just so and the stars aligned in just such a way. In that regard, Twilight was very much like Clover the Clever.

As for Overcast, he was a warning of what might happen when the system failed potential Twilights.

High risks offered high rewards, but sometimes also brought ruination.

"I came to speak to you about my sister's school."

Suddenly, Luna had Twilight's rapt attention, and she wasn't sure what to do with it. The change that came over Twilight was almost unreal. There was a sort of worshipful adoration, but also fanatical zeal. Again, Luna thought of Overcast, because the disturbing little twerp was the same way about her. No doubt for all of the wrong reasons, which made her pending discussion with Twilight all the more important. Naturally, Twilight was reverent and protective about the epitome of what Equestria had to offer the world, all of the good things that Celestia cultivated in the fertile patch of ground that was her school. Luna realised that this is what Twilight fought for; it was why the young unicorn had risked her own neck to challenge Nightmare Moon.

If Luna were to ever rise to her sister's lofty expectations of her, she too would need a Twilight, a pony willing to put it all on the line for whatever great things Luna accomplished. The problem, as Luna saw it, was that she had accomplished nothing thus far, except for wallowing in her own self pity, playing pranks on her sister, and brooding in the dark about how tedious life was.

At the moment, all Luna had to work with was detention, a humble beginning if ever there was one. She had no school to call her own, no centuries of carefully laid groundwork and preparation, all she had was what her sister had given her, which was a headache. Luna's mood wavered between cautious optimism and warm, comfortable pessimism, which was rather like a much-beloved bed that she longed to return to.

Seeking solace in her bed would accomplish nothing.

"Recently, I was put in charge of the detention program and—"

"Excuse me. Hold on." Twilight held out her hoof in an apologetic and endearing manner. "Detention? Am I hearing this correctly?"

Luna thought for a moment about being the Princess of Detention, but this was too serious to bring that up. "Yes, Twilight. Detention. One precious hour of my day is spent with my detainees and they are sent to me as punishment."

Something went terribly wrong with Twilight's face; both of her eyes twitched in a weird way, her ears pivoted round and round, and it appeared as though she might be having a stroke. "Detention? How do they even find the time to get in trouble? Do they pencil in some time for spontaneity on their schedules? I mean, there's so much to do. Extra-credit work. Extracurricular activities. Study hours. Study halls. Library access time. How does a student of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns ever find the time to get into trouble, much less serve an hour in detention? There's just not enough hours in a day!"

This was the most Twilightful thing ever Twilighted by Twilight, and it left Luna at a loss for words. Truly, it was a Twilightening moment, revealing much about the studious unicorn's nature. Coming here to seek Twilight's advice wasn't a mistake—but it was possible that Twilight wasn't the right pony to discuss this with, as she had considerable trouble just coming to terms with the fact that Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns had a detention program.

"Are you having another joke at my expense, Luna?"

It took Luna a few seconds, but she realised that Twilight had not addressed her as 'Princess'. That was fine, really. But it also served as a reminder of just how shocked poor Twilight was, and how difficult this surely had to be for her. Luna wrestled with the issue, unsure of how to deal with it, and after several seconds of internal debate, she remembered that technically, Twilight was still a student.

"Perhaps an hour spent in detention will help you understand just how serious I am."

"But my permanent record!" gasped Twilight, and her eye-twitches became far more pronounced.

"Oh, I would have you there as an observer," Luna said, hoping that Twilight might recover, "and not as a detainee. Twilight Sparkle, I am here because the detention program has revealed to me that my sister's school has rot. Parts of it have decayed beyond repair, and it is failing the students which it serves."

"But the school… her school… my school… that I attend… it's perfect… isn't it?"

"No, Twilight. And that's why I need your help."

Almost in a panic, Twilight poured the whole of her teacup down her gullet, swished it around a bit, and a visible lump in her throat could be seen bobbing up and down when she swallowed. She then poured another cup and then hastily began adding far too much cream and sugar. Luna knew that when Twilight recovered, things would be fine, but for now, patience was a virtue.

Spike snorted and sent up a plume of thick smoke.

Watching as the frantic unicorn composed herself, Luna became Twilightened. Which is to say that she had a much greater understanding of why her sister chose this mare to be her apprentice, her protégé. Twilight was reeling, but not out. Thrown for a loop, maybe, but still in the fight. Most ponies, when having their worldview shattered and everything they believed in tossed upon the rocks and left for ruin tended to come completely undone. But not Twilight, no. It was impressive how she recovered, how she took in these new facts, and even now, at this very moment, Twilight was rebuilding herself.

Luna wanted to be envious, but such jealousy did not become her.

During her long absence, the world had changed. Profoundly. Everything that Luna once knew was gone. Beliefs had changed. Social mores. Societal values. Where a hot poker had once cured sloth, impudent laziness was allowed to see what might come of it. Luna was bewildered, lost, and struggled to reconnect. Through dreams, she rapidly picked up the new language. She had a library of millions of minds to connect to, but all of this knowledge took time to process, to internalise.

With a sinking feeling down in the depths of her bowels, Luna became certain that if Twilight faced the same circumstances—being shut away or imprisoned for a thousand years—her recovery would be assuredly swift. She would adapt. Where Luna had dreams and insightful isolation so that she might sort out her thoughts, Twilight had friends. She had wit and an open mind. In this way, Twilight was gifted—and Luna knew that she was not.

On the verge of some great understanding, Luna stumbled and failed to grasp what was just out of reach.

What Luna had was detention, and with that in mind, she prepared to tell Twilight everything.

Twilight was different now. Subdued. Thoughtful. Still. Determined. She munched on a stalk of celery smeared with peanut butter and sprinkled with raisins. The sounds of her slow chewing caused Luna's ears to prick and twitch. Luna had spared no detail, she held nothing back, and it was now well past midnight. During the long recounting, Twilight had gone through several metamorphoses, taking in the hard, bitter, unpleasant truths, never rejecting or refuting them.

Not only did Luna have the rival she always wanted, but a confidante as well.

"Well," Twilight began, almost whispering, "I've just become aware of the fact that I had a very different experience in school than my fellow schoolmates. And with that understanding, I can see how being Princess Celestia's apprentice might have—" She heaved a sigh, interrupting herself, shook her head, and her ears fell. "I don't know how to finish that sentence. I'm sorry."

Always the curious one, Luna wondered what might have been said. What great truth might have been revealed. A profound understanding remained locked away. Nursing her hot cup of tea, she took frequent slurps to soothe her throat, which was sore from all she had to say. The last bit of celery vanished into Twilight's mouth and when Luna watched the unicorn chewing, she noted the sadness to be found in her eyes.

"I constantly worry about being sent back to Magic Kindergarten," Twilight said around a mouthful of mashed celery, peanut butter, and raisins. "Have they no fear of consequences? It… it doesn't make sense to me, I'm sorry. But I'm really having some trouble with this. Right now, this feels like failure. You came to me for help and I'm not much help at all. Recently, there was a bit of a friendship problem, because there was no friendship problem, and so I created one, and let me tell you, the fear of being sent to Magic Kindergarten rules my life."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "Did you know that Fluttershy beats up bears as a hobby? I had no idea."

"Fluttershy?" Luna's tea almost went down the wrong pipe. "Quiet, timid Fluttershy?"

"Wrestles bears," Twilight said with a soft nod.

"Oh my… well, that certainly paints a different picture of her."

"Just when you think you know your friends…" If there was more to say, Twilight did not say it aloud.

"Twilight, do you think that bear wrestling should be added to the curriculum? I mean, some of the students are slothful and in need of—"

"No, Luna… just no. That's a terrible idea."

"I suppose it is."

Squirming, Twilight brought up the obvious. "Students are intentionally getting into trouble so they can get help. Which concerns me. It either means they don't know how to ask for help, or have asked for help and were ignored. From what you told me about… what was his name? Overcast? It sounds as if he got in trouble for just trying to talk about it. Which leads me to believe that nopony wants to acknowledge that there might be a problem."

"Admitting that there is a problem might appear to make my sister look bad in some way."

"I hadn't thought about that," Twilight blurted out. "Well, that's a factor. Pointing out a blemish in Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns somehow also points out a blemish on Princess Celestia herself."

In amused silence, Luna thought about reporting that sentence to the Redundancy Department of Redundancy.

"Princess Celestia has to know what is going on. She just has to. I refuse to believe that she is oblivious about this. So if we operate under that assumption, that means that she's trusting you to investigate the problem, follow through with sorting it out, and finding a solution."

"Do you really believe that, Twilight?"

The question caught Twilight off guard. Luna saw it plainly, almost as if such a question shouldn't even be asked. Twilight had perfect faith in Celestia, while Luna did not. The two realities collided with a terrific impact that created a shockwave of stunned silence. Twilight, no doubt, was trying to process what was just said. Luna, for her part, couldn't even begin to imagine Twilight's viewpoint on the issue.

It didn't take Twilight long to recover, and then immediately trample the issue. "That's why you came to me, isn't it? You couldn't go to your sister and talk. There's still issues."

Brows furrowing like gathering storm clouds, Luna had nothing to say.

"You and Princess Celestia are as different as night and day," Twilight said to Luna with all the comforting sincerity she could muster. "And that's alright. You should try talking to her. Trust her. I just… I just made that mistake. Let me tell you, I really messed up. Like, almost sent back to Magic Kindergarten messed up. I was so afraid of disappointing my teacher… I was so scared of letting her down that I ended up doing exactly that when I didn't ask her for help. Just go to her, Luna. It'll be fine. I promise."

"I must confess… I've been having crazy thoughts. My paranoia has been getting the better of me. I just cannot bring myself to…" Luna's words died in her throat.

"Are you worried that if you bring this to Princess Celestia's attention that it might somehow ruin what little bit of trust you have? That she'll be disappointed with you? Fearful of you? That she might fear what you could become and will deal with you harshly before the worst happens?"

The words stung. They seemed so obvious—yet Luna had not reached this conclusion on her own. She wanted to feel stupid, to berate herself, but she wasn't alone and so the circumstances would not allow her to fly apart. With Twilight nearby, she had no choice but to hold herself together. All of the random pieces of her mind threatened to fit together, to come into focus and clarity, and Luna grew increasingly fearful of what she might see.

Unable—or perhaps unwilling—to face the truth, Luna changed the subject, but what she had to say betrayed her.

"I see so much of myself in Overcast. He's wounded in the mind, Twilight. His potential for villainy is unlike anything I've ever seen. I'm terrified of what he might become. He saw the world for what it is before he was ready. Just like I did. He saw past the illusion and found the reality unbearable."

"Then you know exactly what to do to save him." These words were bold, spoken in complete confidence, and Twilight Sparkle had absolutely no reservations in saying them. "Do everything that you wish was done for you, Luna. This is your time. This is your chance. You can't change the past. History is written down and the ink is set. What you can do is prevent history from repeating itself. If I'm right, and I'm pretty certain I am, Princess Celestia is trusting you to save what is most precious to her. Her students. We're doing her work. It's up to us to make Equestria the place that Princess Celestia envisions it to be."

"What if I fail?" Luna's voice cracked in the most embarrassing way, but she somehow found the courage to continue. "Or worse… what if I fail in such a way that the darkness consumes both of us? What might I do to Overcast? These detentions expose me to things that disturb me greatly. What if I exploit these troubling elements? What if I lead them into evil, inadvertently or intentionally? The cost of failure cannot be conceived, Twilight. I wonder sometimes if I should go into seclusion to prevent what might happen."

"If you did that, Luna, many might fall into darkness and never see the light again. You've been there. You have. I was there with you. You have experience in going into the darkness and coming back out again. Finding your way back out. Nopony else has that. That is unique and precious, Luna. Yes, you might have to go into the darkness to save a few troubled students, and yes, it might be tempting. But you have the best chance of leading them out."

"Do you really believe that, Twilight?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't, Luna. There's just too much at stake for base platitudes."

"So do you believe that my sister is trusting me with what I know?"

"That seems likely."

"But I don't trust myself," Luna confessed.

"Which is why you need to talk to your sister." Resolute, Twilight leaned in closer and cast her firm gaze on Luna. "Maybe if you hear it from her it'll be easier to do whatever it is that you need to do next."

Perhaps, Luna thought to herself.

"Look at it this way, Luna. Right now, you're the only pony that really sees the problem. I'm still having trouble with it. There's a whole bunch of little voices in my head trying to convince me that this isn't what it seems, or that it somehow isn't a problem. I certainly don't want to believe that my beloved school is suffering a crisis. Just thinking about it makes me sad and it's overwhelming to even imagine that Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns might turn students to evil. It's supposed to be a place of goodness. Right now, Luna, you might be the only pony who can see the problem clearly and for what it is."

As much as she wanted to do so, Luna could not refute Twilight's logic, which ached a bit.

"And if I can be really forward for a moment, it sounds to me that the detention program really needs to go. Not because it ruins the image of perfection that is Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, but because it fails to achieve its purpose. Which is to function as a deterrent. If students are so desperate for help that they're acting out to get detention, then detention isn't going to fix anything. It does not behoove us to have Princess Celestia's best and brightest sabotaging their own future."

"Do you really think I am the right pony for the job, Twilight Sparkle?"

"I think that you're the only pony for the job, Luna. It pains me to say it, but I think everypony is blinded by your sister's brilliance. Even me."

Luna almost asked, Do you really believe that, Twilight? However, she caught herself before it could slip out. Of course Twilight believed that. It was true. If one stared at the Sun long enough, one went blind. Luna was immune though, and saw her sister's flaws as plain as day, which was saying quite a lot because her sister was the very embodiment of day. The opposite was true as well; Celestia was the only light bright enough to pierce Luna's impenetrable darkness. All of Luna's flaws, of which there were many, were laid bare by Celestia's golden light.

All of the pieces threatened to fit once more, and Luna was terrified of them.

Thoroughly disturbed and defeated, Luna decided to talk to her sister. Celestia had to be warned that there was a genuine villain hiding in plain sight. If the school could produce such brilliant minds like Twilight Sparkle, Saviour of Equestria, then surely it had the potential to create Twilight's opposite. Briefly, Luna wondered if she might be overreacting, but quickly determined that such threats should not be underestimated. Afterall, once she had been a moody, broody, sulky sort that dabbled in the dastardly arts. Nopony—not even Celestia saw the danger until it was too late, and then nothing could be done.

"I know what must be done," Luna said to Twilight. "It is as you say. I must go into the darkness and find the lost. It is my duty to lead them back to Celestia's wholesome light. Failing that"—she considered her next words with all due caution—"if a return to the light is impossible, I shall strive to repurpose what others might throw away. I've gone into the darkness and returned with a purpose. Surely others can do the same. If I don't save them, they will truly be lost. Not sure I can live with that."

"You won't be alone. I promise. Your sister will help you. I will help you. My friends will help you, if I ask them. If you lead the way, we'll follow."

"You really do believe that." This was not a question, but a statement, and saying it aloud helped to soothe Luna's troubled mind. "How is it that you believe in the best while I am stuck believing in the worst? I've seen the dreams of so many, Twilight. I know their innermost thoughts. Few can imagine what I've seen, and for the life of me, I cannot fathom why my sister is so intent to save them. But I follow where she leads, because I don't know what else to do. Anything else just feels like surrendering to despair."

"Friendship is real," Twilight said, smiling broadly and revealing far too many teeth for this time of night. "I've witnessed the magic brought about by friendship."

Luna's thoughts turned to Overcast, which is to say they turned overcast as the clouds of doubt began to blow in. Friendship was an illusion; Luna had seen the evidence in dreams, and Overcast too knew the reality. Perhaps it came down to a matter of belief, if belief could make illusion real. What might Twilight say if she saw the dreams of so many? The darkness that hid in the hearts of ponies? Would her opinions change?

No, Luna decided.

Because Celestia had taught some lesson to Twilight that Luna herself had failed to grasp. She couldn't even conceive what it was, or might be, but Twilight lived by this lesson. She'd taken it to heart and the entirety of her life, her existence was built upon this foundation. Luna knew full well the danger of believing in illusions—she'd once been devoured and swallowed whole by fantasies and phantasms of grandiose self-importance. With eternal night, with no sunlight to dispel those awful delusions, the self-serving mirage might have lasted forever.

To live as Nightmare Moon was to live a lie.

Twilight chose to believe in something that served others, sometimes even at the expense of herself. Friendship might very well be an illusion, but lost in her inward, soul-searching reflection, Luna saw a truth that she herself longed for. To have it, all one had to do was to be like Twilight. Perhaps that was the trick of making it real. If it were a trick, it was a worthy one.

When Twilight yawned, Luna felt saddened. She wanted this night to last forever. Not in the way that Nightmare Moon wanted the night to last forever, but in some confusing, bewildering way that did not rob Luna of hope, but filled her up with it in abundance. There would be other nights, Luna realised. All she had to do was be patient and wait.

"As soon as I have collected my thoughts, I will go and speak to my sister. I give you my word."

"That's… that's a relief, Luna. If you need help, just ask. You have my word as well. My door will always be open if you are in trouble."

"If we are to be friends, boon companions, might I borrow your dragon?"

"No," Twilight said as she shook her head from side to side. "No, you may not borrow my dragon."

"Well, bother." Luna watched as Twilight yawned again, and an old familiar sting pierced her heart. Little ponies just couldn't help themselves. It made her ache and the old stale memories of past hurts turned fresh—but much to Luna's surprise, she wasn't dragged down by them. There was work to do, important work, and friends to make. She had students to save.

"Good night, Twilight Sparkle. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," was Twilight's warm response. "Good night, Luna."

After putting down her teacup, Luna rose to her hooves, mindful not to jostle Spike too much. Her front legs cramped a bit after holding a baby dragon for a few hours, but she would sort everything out soon enough. Looking down at Twilight, she felt a certain fondness for the sleepy mare. What an excellent rival she would make—and a wonderful friend. When the unicorn's head bobbed—almost overcome by drowsiness no doubt—Luna allowed herself to enjoy the bittersweet feelings of saying good night.

There would be other nights, for certain.

But as she was getting read to go, something possessed her to stay, at least for a little while longer. It was a prickle in her conscience, something strange and new. Whatever it was, it suggested that she might be a better pony if she did the right thing. That she might be more welcome in the future if she reciprocated and showed appreciation.

Luna knew what she needed to do.

"Take your dragon and go to bed, Twilight Sparkle. I shall clean up the mess I've made, and then I shall show myself out."

"Oh, thank you, Luna. That's so incredibly kind of you."

"It is the least I can do," Luna replied. She wanted to say so much more, but words failed her. Her eyes lingered upon Twilight for a time, noting how her head bobbed, and how difficult it was to stand up. No doubt, Twilight would have gone to bed after her bath, and Luna had kept her awake.

Instead of guilt, she felt a curious warm fuzziness.

"If you will excuse me, I really must be off to bed. Good night, Luna. Sweet dreams."

"Yes, Twilight. Sweet dreams."

Almanac Avocado

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The faint remnants of a headache—the distilled memory of a migraine—punished Luna for trying to think. Nightmares plagued her sleep and kept her from getting fully rested. Dreadful dreams, the worst dreams had played out like bad movies from which there was no escape. This time, the Nightmare had not just swallowed her, but Overcast as well, transforming the both of them into gross, hideous parodies of their former selves.

Vividly she recalled it overcoming her, devouring her, a slick slime that swallowed up the body like viscous tar. Once surrounded, it found its way in through whatever orifice presented itself. It oozed through her ears. Slithered up under her eyelids and swam inside her eye sockets. Oily tendrils probed their way up her nose and into her vulnerable sinuses. Pendulous bloblets squished between the gaps of her teeth, schlorped over the rough surface of her tongue, leaving behind a vile polluted residue, and rammed their way down her throat in undulating rivulets that throbbed with strange, alien heartbeats.

Even worse, the same was done to Overcast.

Now left with unsettling implications, Luna wondered if she could be trusted with her sister's students. What if she led them astray? Or worse… what if Overcast became her dark protégé, a corrupted mirroring of Celestia and Twilight Sparkle? Harmony worked to restore balances, and Celestia was heavy with irrefutable goodness. Luna could not help but worry that she might be damned simply for the sake of balance, a condemned counterweight to her sister. Twilight Sparkle no doubt further tipped the scales, and if left unchecked, calamity could be the only possible outcome.

And Luna would be the one to suffer for it because that was the way of things.

Somepony had to assume the dark mantle. Luna wanted no part of it, but she felt stuck with it. Compounding her guilt, Overcast now seemed drawn into this conflict, with his role yet to be determined. Luna felt as though no good could possibly come of this, and she feared what might be—yet after her long talk with Twilight Sparkle, she wanted to have hope. Even during this moment of facing down an impossibly bleak outcome, Luna wanted to believe that she was wrong, that all of this was a misunderstanding, and that things would turn out for the best.

When an all too quiet voice in the back of her mind suggested that she was being unreasonable, her headache surged and pulsed in the worst way imaginable. Uncomfortable heat crept up the length of her ears and there was a steady but dull thumping right behind her eyes. With the voice now silenced, some of the pain subsided, but the threat was all too real; listening to that voice of reason would only cause more pain.

The remembered sensation of liquid horror creeping beneath her eyelids returned in full force, and so too did the painful struggle for air as the vile sludge poured down her throat. For a moment, the panic was too much to bear, and she feared her heart might burst in some awful way. Her legs wobbled, revealing weakness, and Luna feared that the floor might come rushing up to meet her at any second. Anxiety came in waves, each threatening to bowl her over, and all of Luna's efforts to fill her lungs with air failed. She wheezed, she swallowed, she saw starbursts exploding in her eyes, and then—

Nothing.

She saw nothing; no stars danced in her vision, they had returned to the night sky from whence they came.

As suddenly as the attack had come, it was gone.

All that lingered was the confused shame that an immortal could somehow die from an anxiety attack.

Standing in her private chambers, bewildered, ashamed, and feeling alone, Luna found that she very much wanted to be with her detainees. Being the Princess of Detention was preferable to this. Sweat dripping, her night-blue hide soaked down to the skin, somehow burning up and freezing at the same time, Luna longed to be with her new friends. They would understand. How or why they would understand didn't matter; she didn't have to rationalise it. She simply knew and the knowledge was reassuring. They weren't adults, who might chastise her for such irrational fears, but foals who had plenty of irrational fears of their own.

Mouth dry, but somehow drooling with residual terror, Luna stumbled off for a drink.

Soda pop was one of many things invented during her long absence and Luna loved the stuff. It was fizzy, effervescent, sweet, had a delightful variety of flavours, and gave one happy fun gas. With but a bottle, she could work up the sort of belch that could turn castle walls to dust—at least her imagination thought so. Always a strange one, she rather liked the nonstandard flavours that others might turn their nose up at.

Several empty bottles sat atop the stone wall near to her and she could feel the eyes of the guards upon her when she wasn't looking. She had just finished off a bottle of black licorice soda pop, and while she didn't enjoy it much if at all, she still drank it just for the experience. Flashing a disturbed grin, she popped the top off of an ice-cold bottle of mustard soda. Sniffing it was a mistake; something about the fizziness and the twangy tang of mustard almost made her face explode. Cross-eyed, her face contorting wildly, she fought the urge to sneeze until it went away.

Then, when she was confident that her face wouldn't explode in a most unprincessly manner, she tried a swallow of the urine-yellow mustard soda pop. A long pull drained almost a third of the bottle, and she swished it around the insides of her mouth so that she might fully appreciate the flavour. With a loud gulp, it went down her gullet, where it tickled her quivering innards. It was her sworn and sacred duty to experience strange new things. After all, as the Dreamwalker, she might have to craft a dream where somepony drank mustard soda pop, and she wanted the experience to be as real as possible so they could have the best possible dream experience.

She owed them that.

"Not bad," she murmured whilst peering into the bottle with one squinty eye.

When she licked her teeth, she tasted a curious mix of black licorice and sunny yellow mustard. Two tastes that did not go together, not even in the slightest. Then, ever so faintly, like dire chanting of cultists heard in the background of spooky dreams, she detected the suggestive hint of cilantro, the very first bottle of soda pop that she'd emptied out. It was rather soapy, which seemed fitting after what she'd put poor Twilight Sparkle through.

Any second now, the sugar would surely work its sweet magic, and she would be ready for detention.

The room at the top of the detention tower was occupied. Wednesday Waterkey and Top Notch greeted Luna upon her entry but she failed to return their welcome. They had decorated a bit, making the bleak room a bit more inviting. Self-help posters were hung on the walls, the sort of banal drivel that one expected to find in a school. There was even a displacer beast hanging by one tentacle encouraging the viewer to hang in there.

Top Notch in particular looked as pleased as punch.

"Help for students, by students," he said with all the dry wit he could muster.

Luna wanted to be emotional—to perhaps even have some gushing outburst—but she shoved it all down. Even with her best efforts, some of her feelings crept out. She was proud of Wednesday and Topper for their initiative—she wanted to tell them so—but the words she longed to say refused to be spoken. This had to be the good that Twilight spoke of and was surely what Celestia believed in, the virtue of the little ponies. Their capacity for greatness was most evident during moments just like this one.

It was an affirmation of everything that Luna wanted to believe, but had trouble accepting as truth. Moments like this did much for Luna's faith, not just in the little ponies, but also for herself. She was the Princess of Detention, and through the goodness of her subjects, her domain had prospered. Warm gratitude threatened to seep out of her eyes in liquid form and it took all of her willpower to keep her princessly composure.

"I've decided that I don't wish to be the Invisible Filly any longer," Wednesday said to Luna. "Quite a lot has happened actually. This morning, Topper, Overcast, and I, we, well I guess you could say that we made a pact. We pledged to never speak behind each other's backs. You should have seen Overcast. He almost showed interest."

"Where is he, anyhow?" asked Luna.

"Well, funny that you mention that…"

Luna tilted her head to look at Topper, but it seemed as though he had nothing else to say.

Wednesday, however, had plenty to say.

"Something happened in the school cafeteria today. Not sure what. I don't know what's true and what isn't, but supposedly Overcast did something. Something awful. The guard showed up kind of awful. And I don't want to spread gossip so I… well, you know. We saw each other during breakfast. Made our pledge. Overcast was actually in whatever passes as a good mood for him, I think. Can't say he was cheerful, but he did say that today was the big day and that things would change forever.

"After breakfast, we went our separate ways. I've enrolled in a recovery program to repair my lousy grades and restore my good standing, so that's where I went. Topper went to study law, because that's what he's good at. As for Overcast, he went off to his advanced matter manipulation class and he—"

"Advanced matter manipulation?" Luna's gentle interruption silenced Wednesday. "Advanced matter manipulation is for students approaching graduation." She wanted to say more, to ask more about whatever had happened and why it involved the guard, but she knew that pressing the issue would accomplish nothing. In frustration, she sighed.

"That's where he said he was going," said Top Notch in a solemn tone.

"We all had a really nice morning," Wednesday said. "Like I said, Overcast was… well, I wouldn't call it enthusiastic. Topper, this is hard, help me."

The colt shrugged and was of no use at all.

"I asked Topper to the dance. We had a very civil discussion. A very honest one. I asked him knowing full well that I can't actually dance in my condition, and um, knowing that I'm not much to look at, but when I said that Overcast lectured me and in some weird way that made me feel better, though I can't say why. But Topper said yes and I was ecstatic and the day started off so right."

"She wanted a chance to prove herself. Just like I did. Didn't feel right to refuse her. I think doing that might have made me a hypocrite and I don't much care for that. As it turns out, Whinny is great at conversation, her horn playing is top notch, and she's really very nice. And I don't feel awkward talking to her like I do with other fillies, which is great."

"And we wanted others to be happy and we wanted you to be happy so we decided to make some improvements to the detention tower after everything you said, Princess Luna. You did give us that rousing speech about having the courage to do what is necessary."

"Say, Whinny, do you think that little pep-talk might've set off Overcast?"

"That's… that's a good question, Topper. I wish I knew what he did. I don't like not knowing. And I don't want to ask around because that feels like gossip."

Luna wanted to know as well, and while she could probably find out, the detention hour was soon to begin. If the guard were involved… try as she might, Luna could not even imagine the guard getting involved with a school issue. These were students, not hardened criminals. Of course, Overcast was given to rapscallionry—but surely not to the degree that summoning the guard was necessary. The colt was given to drama, not dangerous malice.

More than anything else though, she wanted to know how and why he was enrolled in advanced matter manipulation. The school had not relaxed its standards—only the very best students were offered the chance to study here—but was Overcast truly that exceptional? Such magic required a certain level of physical maturity; the very young had difficulty even channeling the force required for such arcane endeavours.

The only thing that could be done right now was to keep calm and carry on.

"I printed fliers," Top Notch said, and he seemed proud of himself.

"You did what?" asked Luna.

"My mom, she's a good sort. She told me that when I stumble onto a worthy social cause, I should throw money at it, because that's what fixes things and makes things better. And I'm one to listen to my mom, because she's a good sort. A real good sort. I can't ever recall her ever being wrong about anything. So I followed her advice and I paid to have some fliers printed up and then I went and posted them around the school."

"Topper and I didn't have lunch in the cafeteria. We got there early, grabbed a box lunch, and took off so we could talk. And walk. And post fliers. And we had a lovely time together."

"Maybe if we'd stayed, Overcast might've behaved himself," said Top Notch, mostly to himself. "This morning, he talked about being a hero. Maybe there was a misunderstanding?"

"You printed fliers." Luna made her way to the desk, pushed the chair back, and sat down.

"We wanted our fellow students to know that if they needed help, there was some to be had," Wednesday explained. "And a flier is a good way to do that. Is it not?"

This was all so unexpected, but Luna was pleased. Now, she was committed to these changes. There was so much that she wanted to do, but her own worries and hesitations made it difficult. But now, with Wednesday and Topper taking it upon themselves to make things happen and showing a bit of initiative, the hardest part was already done. The part that Luna wasn't sure if she could accomplish on her own. How many scenarios might she have played out in her head, plotting all possible points of failure? Oh, all the ways she might have procrastinated with her princessly ponderings.

Every curl upon Wednesday's head was more precious than all the wealth in the treasury. All of Luna's fears and doubts about being the hated Princess of Detention crumbled, flying apart when blasted by incontrovertible proof of goodness. The affectionate adoration of youth would grow into something greater—though what, Luna did not know. She feared to get her hopes up, yet her caged hopes threatened to burst free from all their imagined confines. Not only was this where she needed to be, this is where she belonged. At least, for now. Perhaps with time and progression, she might move on to bigger and better things. But she doubted that those things would be quite as important.

Luna, a pony haunted by her past, now worked to build the future.

Tugged upon and pulled in every which direction, Luna struggled. She needed to stay here, but she very much wanted to know what was going on with Overcast. While these were pressing immediate concerns, she also very much wanted to talk to her sister. There was so much that needed saying, so much to discuss. Possibly too much. It might be overwhelming. But Luna was determined to stay the course, and she would talk with her sister. It just had to happen. Though it would not happen right now. Was it procrastinating when you were actually preoccupied? She couldn't go prancing off to gush to her sister, not when somepony in need of help might show up. That would be poor impulse control.

It did not matter that this joy was short-lived. Yes, this was joy, ever-elusive and feared. No, it wasn't joy that was feared, she realised, but its departure. She saw this clearly, at least at the moment. Strangely, she was not afraid; even if it left her—it most certainly would—she knew without doubt that it would return. Something had changed. A part of herself that she did not know had changed or perhaps recovered in some unknowable, unfathomable way. Yes, this joy would leave her, like birds in autumn. But spring would come; joy would return, and with reassurance came relief.

While Luna did not feel whole again, she felt better.

The cost of power was grief. In a moment of terrible clarity, Luna understood this. To be the creature she was—an alicorn—was to invite grief. She was a lightning rod for calamity. How her sister dealt with this dreadful state of being was unknown to Luna, but as she sat there, staring at Wednesday Waterkey and Top Notch, she had an inkling, an intimation of how Celestia endured. Bringing these two together, helping them, providing for their needs—this had brought her joy, and what precious joy it was.

Like a lightning rod, Luna had to stand above others. In doing so, the little ponies would be spared the worst of whatever calamity struck if she took disaster upon her own body. This was power and the cost of it was grief. A simple arrangement. So many times she'd heard spoken from so many mouths the old chestnut about absolute power corrupting absolutely. Luna herself had been corrupted; but before her fall into shadow, she had been grief-stricken.

Her corruption was the progression of a disease.

As a survivor of this disease, it was her duty to help others. Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns was a place where power concentrated. Some coped; they had friendship and togetherness. However, some lacked this support. They had power, which came at a cost, and eventually, they would know grief, which Luna determined was the terminal phase. Somehow, she would save them—if she could, if they would allow her. A pony drowning in despair sometimes resisted all efforts to save them.

Luna certainly had.

Overcast was a pony consumed by power—and grief. He had to be mourning his parents; no doubt could be had that he believed himself lost to them. Beyond that, his belief that the world was good had been damaged in a way that few could comprehend—but Luna knew. She could feel his grief quite keenly, because it so closely matched her own. Overcast mourned the world lost to him, and all of the good things found therein. His despondency, his bereavement, his desolation, all symptoms of stolen joy. At his tender age, he could barely comprehend what was lost, taken from him, but he could mourn it.

Foals didn't understand mourning—and sometimes, neither did alicorns.

It was a strange ache, a wound, a tearing open of the self. Sometimes, this would not heal on its own and if left to fester, awful things could come about. Monsters could seep from such a gash. In a moment of brutal self-honesty, Luna asked herself if her attempts to plunge the world into eternal night was an attempt to make others mourn for the sun forever lost to them. An expression of grief? In her own moment of self-pity and loss, had she robbed others of their joy so they could all be miserable together?

"Princess Luna, are you well?"

Wednesday's question jolted Luna from her thoughts, and she stared at the curly filly without answering right away. Young Wednesday had gone from being helpless to helping others. Such a rapid change. A turnabout. Moments such as this one could not be expressed with mere words. The gathering silence—like clouds over a picnic—threatened to become a storm of awkwardness.

"I'm fine, Wednesday. Thank you for asking. In fact, I'm better than I've been for a while. Because of you, actually."

Blushing furiously, Wednesday squirmed, her braces creaked and squeaked, and she became adorably bashful in the way that only fillies on the cusp of adolescence could. Luna drank the moment in and found her parched soul slaked in some inconceivable way that was immensely satisfying. Wednesday reacted to such sincere praise in much the same way plants did sunshine, which is to say that she probably grew in some important way.

"Do you hear that?" Top Notch asked. "There's somepony on the stairs. Be ready."

The filly in the doorway was somewhat younger. She hesitated, fearful and worried, and she did not take her eyes off of Luna. Thankfully, Luna's mood was ironclad at the moment, and it felt as though nothing could bring her down from the clouds where she currently resided. The new filly was chubby in a way that suggested that she would soon fill out, but that was a promise for later and she would remain awkward for a while.

Her coat was a vivid, perhaps even lurid shade of noxious creamy green. Her mane was a bit too pink and was something of a shock upon the eyes. Luna knew just enough of the new-fangled colour theory to know that pink and green did not go together; they did not compliment each other. Oversized glasses covered her face, which were broken and held together in the middle by a sticky, dirty mess of tape. Her bookbag was old, practically falling apart, and had no-doubt been somepony else's bookbag. The poor dear did not move with poise and grace, but with anxious nervousness.

"Hi," Wednesday said to the new filly. "Are you alright? My name is Wednesday, and this is Top Notch. Call him Topper."

Never taking her eyes off of Luna, the new filly replied, "I'm sorry, I seem to be having some trouble adjusting. I'm telling my hooves to move, but they're being a bit disobedient."

"Princess Luna is incredibly friendly," Top Notch said with all of the particular warmth and good cheer unique to him. "You shouldn't worry."

"I'm trying not to worry, but my stupid brain and body are betraying me!"

"Oh… oh, right. I know how that can be." Top Notch nodded knowingly, cast a sidelong glance at Wednesday, and then, quite without warning, flashed a smile.

But it was no mere common smile, no. This was an old money smile, a revered treasure from the past, lovingly handed down from generation to generation. It was as warm and reassuring as a grand and stately fireplace, the sort of centerpiece to a room that held generations of fond memories upon the mantle in the form of photographs and paintings. This smile was a holiday banquet and a house packed wall to wall with beloved family members. Even Luna found herself charmed by it, and she could not help but worry about if he might ever use it for nefarious purposes. Why, the little fellow might very well use it on Wednesday and then take to the dangerous hobby of necking until knackered.

"I'm really sorry," the new filly said. "I can't even imagine how rude I'm being, but seeing you in-pony is a bit of a shock. It's not you, if it makes you feel better, Princess Luna. When I came nose-to-nose with your sister, Princess Celestia, I widdled myself."

Before Luna could stop it, before she could even sense its escape, a hot, breathy snort blasted free from the fortress that was her face. The concussive explosion caused the room to tremble and before Luna could recover herself, she began to snortle in a most unprincessly way. Even worse, the prison break continued; after the massive blast that opened up an exit and the escaping snortles fleeing the asylum that was her headspace, the giggles too escaped their solitary confinement. She covered her mouth with her hoof to stop them, but to no avail; all the inmates were escaping.

"My name is Almanac," the new filly said, introducing herself. "Almanac Avocado. I saw the fliers. I wasn't going to come, but I did anyway. This is awkward."

"Oh, indeed it is," Top Notch agreed, and he put his heirloom smile away.

"I'm not in trouble," Almanac said. "But, I guess I am kind of in trouble? I mean, I wasn't given detention, but I am in trouble. I guess. It's complicated?"

Still, Luna giggled and it showed no signs of abating; the inmates continued their gleeful escape.

"I just want to say that I'm not scared of you because of… well, you know. Stuff." Somehow, Almanac broke the spell that rooted her to the spot and she moved into the room, but still never took her eyes off of Luna. "It's just… you know… alicorns. They're big. I don't know which beanstalk y'all fell off of, and I don't want to find out."

A most majestic, most deafening "HRONK!" shot out of Luna like a cannonball. 'Twas a strange sound, like somepony swallowing a trumpet playing goose—which might be considered a miracle of some kind considering that geese had no lips—but in reverse. She sat there for a moment, stunned into silence by the peculiar sound she'd made, until at last she was overcome by the giggles once more. For a few precious seconds, Luna felt as she once did, before the darkness, before the onset of trials, troubles, and tribulations.

A period of slumber lost to nightmares somehow made the current myrth all the more satisfying. Almanac was recovering herself a little at a time and now stood in front of the desk with her glasses askew. As for the others, Top Notch had a dry, droll expression, and Wednesday had a lopsided smirk that highlighted just enough of her facial features to show the mare that she would one day be.

"Hey," Almanac said in a preadolescent squeak, "something my dad suggested actually worked. It's too bad that I can never tell him."

"Is your father… passed on?" Top Notch asked the question with all of the politeness he could muster, which was really quite a lot.

"No," Almanac replied, "but any time he's right about something, we never hear the end of it."

"Oh." Collecting his composure, his ears pricked, Top Notch nodded. "I see."

"Of course, he's wrong about plenty of stuff…" Words trailing off into a sigh, Almanac shrugged.

Now a bit unsettled, Top Notch made a polite inquiry: "Your father… is wrong about things?"

"All the time," the young newcomer replied with a nod. "He told me that if I just show everypony the real me and if I do my best, I'll make friends in no time. I'll fit in. He said if I was honest and forthright, then I'd be a shoo-in for the most popular filly in school. There's a list, and it grows longer by the day."

Swallowing her laughter, Luna leaned forward.

"I'm starting to think I don't belong here, and I've been thinking about dropping out. Going back to my old school. Every day, it just gets… harder. But I can't quit, because there's so much pressure. So I just feel stuck."

"It's easy to get stuck," Wednesday said, and her words caused Top Notch to nod in agreement.

Watching him nod made Luna wonder what the young colt felt stuck about.

"It's too hard to keep going and quitting is complicated." The younger filly blew her radiant pink mane out of her eyes and then tossed her head back when her mane refused to cooperate. This almost dislodged her glasses, and Almanac’s horn sparked as her magic flared in preparation for having to catch her spectacles. "My parents gave up everything to move to Canterlot to be with me and all of my grandparents, my aunts, my uncles, and everypony in the family supports us because Canterlot is just too expensive and my parents can't afford to live here and—" She paused, turned her head, pricked her ears, and listened.

There were hooves on the stairs along with metallic clanking. Luna heard it quite clearly, a sound distinct to a pony clad in armor. There was a guard on the stairs. Why would a guard be coming up the stairs? There was probably a message to deliver. It was probably nothing, yet all of the hair along Luna's spine stood up while her gut muscles tightened. Whatever dread that tread upon the stairs moved closer and Luna turned all of her attention upon the doorway.

When a unicorn guard led Overcast into the room, Luna was surprised—yet also not at all. The colt had a black sack over his head, which infuriated her beyond all reason, and made her want to shout. He was also hobbled, with his left hind leg connected to his right front leg with a short length of chain. Luna affixed her chilly deadpan stare upon the guard and then restrained herself to prevent any overreaction.

"Princess Luna," the guard began, "I have brought you—"

"Is the sack necessary?" asked Luna.

"Standard procedure during arrests," the guard replied, only hesitating for an eyeblink.

"So he was arrested?"

The guard swallowed and his jaw wagged as he struggled to respond. "No. But he was detained. We've never had an incident like this in the school and therefore we had no clear procedure to follow."

"Which was?" demanded Luna, whose tone was now subzero.

"He was stunned, taken down, incompacitated, and restrained."

"And this was necessary, why? Did he pose a threat to you? Did he fight back?"

"Multiple magical misdemeanours were committed, and he incided bedlam. He also—"

"Was he a danger to you?" asked Luna. "Yes or no."

"I wasn't there. I am but the messenger."

"I see." Luna's tone was now chilly enough to liquify helium and she did not stare at the guard, but through him. "I find that it is far more likely this response was to humiliate him before his peers and to further damage his ability to fit in. Perhaps to make him quit school rather than face an expulsionary hearing. For all future incidents, I want you to remember that you are dealing with students, and that if they are not dangerous, then they are not to be harmed."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guard replied.

"Really, is the sack necessary?" asked Luna, who struggled against her ever-growing irritation.

"It deprives the detained from sight and hearing. It is said to calm the detained and make them more manageable. Also, a unicorn that cannot see or hear is far less dangerous. Sensory deprivation allows us to—"

"Overcast… can you hear me?"

"Of course I can."

The confused expression on the guard's face stood out in sharp contrast to the smug superiourity seen on Luna's. Though still dangerously angry—unreasonably angry—the faint tickle of amusement was enough for Luna to keep herself from flying into a rage due to her current state of imbalanced humours. Though she would never admit it, she felt a certain sense of pride in Overcast's accomplishment. But she also felt worried about whatever events had transpired.

"How?" the guard asked. "The sack is magically silenced. It should be impossible to speak. Words can carry magical influence. How?"

"Take it off of him," Wednesday said to the guard. "I can't bear seeing him like this. Overcast, what happened? What did you do? Why did you do it?"

"Remove it," Luna commanded.

"He did resist his detainment—"

"I said to remove it." Spilling out of her chair, Luna was on her hooves in an eyeblink, and moved with spooky, supernatural grace.

Now silent, the unicorn guard pulled the sack from Overcast's head—and Luna's heart lept up into her throat. One ear was swollen, and so was the entire left side of the colt's face. His eye was almost shut and as Luna stood there trying to hold it all in, she could almost imagine one of the guards standing on his head or neck to keep him subdued. A curious metallic taste befouled the back of her tongue and it was rather difficult to breathe at the moment.

"You are dismissed," she said to the guard.

Saying nothing, the guard didn't leave so much as he escaped, and he departed with considerable alacrity.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like a frantic caged bird and saying nothing, she removed the hobble from Overcast. In silence, he stretched his legs while Luna stood over him, and she examined his injured face with an almost maternal concern. As for the other students, they were clustered together, each of them trying to console one another during this difficult moment. She vanished the hobble and then with a sour expression of contempt, she vanished the hated head-sack as well.

"Overcast"—now warmed somewhat, Luna's voice wavered, the unsettling evidence of her current state of emotional distress—"what did you do?"

But Overcast it seemed, had other plans. Upon seeing Almanac Avocado, he brushed past Luna, limping slightly, and he moved to where she stood. He was taller than the filly by a full head—maybe more—and she seemed to be in outright awe of him as he drew close. Unsure of what to expect, Luna waited, and as she did so, she took deep calming breaths so that she might have better control of herself.

"I know you," Overcast said. "You're one of my Blameless Ones. I wish we'd met under better circumstances, but here we are. Not that I wanted us to meet. I try to avoid others, but things have been strange lately."

"Blameless?" The word slipped out of Almanac as a squeak.

"You are one of the precious few that has never gossipped," the colt said as he stood there studying the younger, smaller filly.

"Mama raised me to respect others and to never say anything that I wouldn't say to their face."

"I see." Overcast leaned in very much like Luna did, and he examined the filly's face.

"Wait"—she squeaked again—"how do you know?"

"Almanac Avocado. Both of your parents are earth ponies. You were raised around earth ponies. Not unicorns. Which is the source of your trouble, but you don't seem to understand that part just yet. Your whole family farms. They are land rich, but cash poor. Food is plentiful but that's it. They do their best to help your parents, who moved to Canterlot to be with you and support you."

"How do you know this?" asked Almanac.

"You know nothing of unicorn culture, or any of the things that unicorns are expected to know. That's why you don't fit in. Your peers believe you to be an ignorant bumpkin… but they also believe you to be an insufferable know-it-all because of your book smarts. Without you realising it, you've walked into a no-win situation. Your teachers praise you for your smarts, but they also ridicule you and shame you behind your back for being clueless about even the most basics of unicorn-related culture."

"They do that?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Overcast replied, "and that was the purpose of today. To expose all of the duplicity." He cleared his throat, lifted his head, and then wobbled slightly on his hooves. "May I please see your glasses?"

Unsure of what was about to happen, Luna waited.

"Why do you need my glasses?"

"A simple yes or a no will do. May I?"

Flustered, blushing a bit, and no-doubt filled with far too many questions, Almanac took off her glasses and passed them to Overcast. The colt took them, held them up in front of his good eye, the one not swollen shut, and he examined them with his critical gaze. Then, saying nothing, he peeled the dirty, gunky tape off the middle, and then allowed the spectacles to come apart. Holding both pieces, the colt continued his curious examination, and Luna was completely baffled by this unexpected turn of events.

"There's a point to this, I assure you," Overcast said. "I'll get to it, I promise. I will. But right now, I must concentrate."

A pulsing glow consumed the glasses and it took Luna a few seconds to understand that Overcast was cleaning them. He was removing all the glue and gunk from the area where the bridge broke. All the previous attempts to repair them left behind residue that made it impossible for the two pieces to ever fit together properly. How he managed to do this while in so much pain scared her in some worrisome way. Was he channeling his pain and suffering into his magic? That seemed likely. Luna knew all too well the outcome of such channeling and if the colt was in fact doing this, he was further gone than she had believed.

Tapping into pain and suffering to give oneself power was to open the door to darkness.

Luna could not turn away. She had to see how this ended; she had to know what point the colt had to make. He was too logical—even if his logic was skewed—to go through all this trouble without a reason. Yet, a part of Luna doubted; the colt cared. He had to care. There was evidence that he cared, and deeply. His attention to details, the way he committed so many details to memory, the fact that he kept track of his fellow students. But then the alarm bells rang, and it occurred to Luna that the colt kept a list; he kept tabs on his fellow students, the ones he considered guilty and those he called his 'Blameless Ones'. This scared her—mostly because she did the same thing. She too had a list of ponies to look out for.

Unsettled and somewhat unhinged, Luna watched—for what else could she do?

"I want to quit school," Almanac whispered, "but I can't. I don't know how. My parents have sacrificed so much to get me here. They've given up their own lives for the sake of mine. My parents sacrificed everything that made them happy so I could be here. If I quit, I'll hurt them in ways I can't even begin to understand. But I can't keep going like this. The pressure is getting to me. There are days when I just want to do nothing but cry but I can't because everypony will just tease me."

Overcast nodded, but offered no verbal response; he was lost in concentration.

"We're poor. We can't afford anything. All my books are used and tattered and I get teased for having them. When I complained, I was told to develop some character and grow a backbone. It was my fault for being thin-skinned. Sometimes, it feels like I am suffocating. I'm sick of looking into the margins of my books and seeing the doodles and scribbles and graffiti. This is all so weird. I don't know why I am telling you this, but it seems that you already know. I should be worried about how you know, but I'm not, and maybe that should bother me."

Wednesday's leg braces creaked as she moved closer to Almanac.

"You don't know this yet," Overcast said to Almanac, "but I'm the hero. Maybe not the hero that everypony wanted, but I am the hero that they deserve."

With that said, the two halves of the broken spectacles vanished from existence and then immediately reappeared—as one. Made whole. Unbroken. Luna knew it for what it was; this was no repair spell, but it was similar enough to have the same effect. Overcast had teleported the two halves together, and fused them. The clean surface, free of contaminants, rebonded without weakness. It was impressive magery by any standard, as was befitting any student that attended this school, a place where greatness was made to flourish.

It shouldn't be so surprising, given his studies with the frogs—yet Luna was impressed.

"Do you know what this is?" asked Overcast as he slipped the repaired spectacles onto Almanac's face and adjusted them.

She shook her head.

"This," he began, his voice low, "is a gift. This is evidence. How fitting that this gift is a pair of glasses, because this will allow you to see the world for what it really is. Now, you must be asking… what is this evidence of?"

She nodded.

"Well, I'll tell you." Taking a step back, he drew in a deep breath, steadied himself, and his whole body trembled as he held his head high. "I'm sorry to be the one who tells you this. Really, I am. I wish there was some way I could let you know just how sorry I am…" His good, unswollen eye closed for a moment whilst he shuddered.

"Your teachers care nothing about you. All of their seeming and so-called friendship is fake. Fraudulent. At any time, any one of them could have fixed your glasses with a repair spell. Watch them. Watch them carefully. All throughout the day, they fix broken pencils, busted pieces of chalk, torn pages, anything and everything that suffers a mishap. But your glasses? Not worth their time. You're not worth their time. They could have fixed them. Doing so might've meant a bit less teasing. But they failed to perform this simple act. They've failed you. Learn from this and—"

"Overcast, that's more than enough," Luna said, cutting the colt off mid-sentence.

"Yes, I suppose I've inflicted more than enough truth for one day."

"I suppose… well, I suppose that seems obvious in hindsight."

Almanac's words pierced Luna's ears—and her heart. While the glasses were fixed, irreparable damage had just been done. Something needed to be said—something had to be said to stop the poison. But Luna had no idea what it was or what it might be. There was no antidote. Celestia might know what to do, what to say. Luna saw the world in a different way and so she had no idea how to respond.

"I've only ever done this with pencils," the weary, injured colt said. "Wasn't sure if this would work. That would have been embarrassing, had I failed. Would've ruined the moment, for certain. Whew." Then, wobbling quite a bit, he stumbled off, sat down on a wooden bench, and almost collapsed on the spot. Somehow, he kept himself in a sitting position, and when he tried to smile, he winced with pain.

"I don't believe you," Wednesday said to Overcast. "I don't believe you, but I don't know how to prove you wrong. Our teachers have to care about us. They do. Otherwise, they wouldn't teach. You're wrong."

"Am I?" asked Overcast.

"I refuse to be convinced of this," Wednesday said as she shook her head from side to side and caused her curls to bob. "What's gotten into you? What did you do? What have you done?"

Almanac pulled her eyeglasses off and squinting, she checked out the now repaired bridge. Her pink mane spilled down over her face and for a second, she was youthful and innocent. But when she brushed her mane back with her foreleg—a physical act reminiscent of earth ponies—her face was aglow with worshipful adoration. Luna feared this reaction, this outcome, though she could not say why. If Overcast had made her a true believer, then it was conceivable that he truly was a danger to his fellow students.

Something would have to be done.

"A lot of our teachers have cutie marks for teaching," Top Notch said as he moved to stand beside Wednesday. "Surely that would make them care about what they're doing."

"Being compelled to do something is not the same as wanting to do it," Overcast replied.

"Ooh, you're horrible! Now you're casting doubt on that, too! Stop that, Overcast! You're like a horrible cloud over everything! Just… stop that!"

"Or I'll eat a hoof sandwich?" he asked.

As if struck by some terrific invisible force, Wednesday recoiled. She blinked once, twice, and it took her several seconds to recover. When she finally did, she said, "I was wrong to say that to you. I was. Bad friendship made you the way you are and I was so focused on myself that I've not been a good friend to you. That much is obvious. I aim to fix that. The only way to prove you wrong is to be your friend and try to do better."

"Well, if she can do it, so can I." Top Notch nodded, pleased with himself, and he sighed with obvious contentment. "Group effort. Righto. Surely my parents would approve."

"Overcast"—Luna's voice drew every eye to her—"what did you do?"

"Today, I stopped being afraid," he replied. Reaching up, he gingerly touched the side of his face with his hoof. Doing so made him whimper, but then he did it again—and again. "I finally had the courage to do what needed to be done. Today, I became the hero."

"But that doesn't tell me what you did, Overcast. And I need to know." Luna went to where the colt sat, pulled up a bench, and then sat down beside him. The bench was too small, and Luna, too large. It was best described as awkward, but she persisted. There was just too much at stake to let trivial things be distractions.

Like an overly large bluebird of unhappiness, Luna perched upon her bench. Reaching out one wing, she pulled the colt close to her so that she might comfort him. Or maybe she was trying to comfort herself. She didn't know and she didn't care. He tried to resist her, but she just overpowered him. He was in incredible pain; she could sense it. Both physical and mental. She had just watched him hurt himself, pressing against his face—and it was far too much like looking into a mirror.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"What nopony else would," he replied. "Not even you, Dreamwalker."

Summoning her patience, Luna sighed.

Did she deserve this?

Most definitely.

It made her sympathise with her sister in a way that nothing else had.

If she was even half this infuriating, she owed her big sister an apology.

She felt him shudder and heard him sigh. His thin body leaned against hers and feeling him pressed to her side made her consider life. What was it exactly that she wanted from life? She didn't know. There was no answer. Which was, perhaps, a dangerous thing because immortals were blessed with prodigiously long lives. The sole reason for her existence, her purpose, her function, she was meant to be a counterweight to her sister. Together, they shepherded the celestial bodies and kept the clockwork of the universe ticking.

While this was something that Luna did, it was rather just something that happened because she existed. The same was true of her duties as the Dreamwalker. It happened. She was doing it right now as she sat on the bench trying to bring some small sense of comfort to Overcast. All of her purposes were passive, just things that happened that she only had the vaguest awareness of, unless she concentrated.

Celestia had found something that occupied her time. There was the school, first and foremost of Celestia's hobbies. And one of her sister's precious students had been stomped on by a guard. Which caused Luna to discover that the things her sister held dear, she did as well. It was a strange but welcome realisation, because it meant the future wasn't so boring and bleak. Having such a long life, it would be so easy to be overcome by despair, to become stultified by the sheer endless tedious repetitiveness of it all.

For reasons unknown, Luna thought of Twilight Sparkle and felt better.

"Overcast"—she said his name as little more than a whisper—"what made you think that today's events were necessary? What drove you to do whatever it is that you've done?"

"You already know why." He spat out these words like a foal refusing to swallow bitter medicine. "I've tried to tell others. Today, I forced them to see that the problem exists. I made it so it could not be ignored."

Almanac pulled up a bench close to Overcast's, and then sat down. As for Top Notch and Wednesday Waterkey, they stood alongside one another, in much the way dear friends or couples do. They cast worried sidelong glances at one another and rather looked like adults trapped in bodies too small. When Luna last existed in the world, they would have been adults perhaps, or on the verge of becoming so.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Overcast said, almost muttering. "But I knew it would. I knew it would. A part of me knew but another part of me kept trying to tell the rest of myself that things could change. But that voice grew quieter as days went on and all my worst suspicions were confirmed."

After a shuddering breath, he added, "When I woke up this morning, that voice had gone silent. Was it like that for you, Dreamwalker? Did that quiet voice of reason just go silent?"

Unable to respond, her words caught in her throat like a too-dry biscuit, Luna wrapped her wing a little tighter around the distraught colt. This was dangerous territory and she risked having her soul laid bare. She had trod this ground before. This path was known to her. She knew how it started—but more importantly, she knew how it ended. Overcast did not deserve such an end.

But knowing the length of this journey meant that it was familiar, and as such, there was no fear of the unknown. There was no strangeness here that she could not abide. If he continued down this path, she would go after him. Where he would go in ignorance, she would follow with foresight. Whatever monsters awaited on this path would soon learn that she was the Mother of Monsters, and this path was hers.

"Wednesday… she talked about how it took courage to be seen. She said that she had spent so long believing herself to be the Invisible Filly that it was scary to be seen again. And then she said something that got stuck in my ears." The colt went quiet, thoughtful, and his head wobbled on his neck. "She said that being seen meant holding herself accountable. After she said that, I knew that I had to do the same. I wasn't living up to my full potential. I saw it as clear as day. And that's when I decided to be the hero, because that's a thing that one decides. You either become the pony you're meant to be, or you don't."

Wednesday whined out one word—"Overcast…"—but had nothing else to say.

"I woke up feeling that way, but what she said and how she said it really got stuck in my ears. Today was the day. So I acted."

With every nerve in her body jolting and jittering, Luna waited.

"I thought about everything I'd learned recently. About focus and discipline. Dreamwalker, you taught me more than you know. More than you realise. You opened my eyes. Well, my ears, but the result remains the same. I had clarity." He moaned, swayed a little, and there was a feverish gleam in his unswollen eye. "And I suppose I had friends. Topper and Wednesday used to be part of the problem, but they had seen the error of their ways. I guess I did it just as much for them as I did myself.

"At lunch time, I waited in the cafeteria, and I prepared. I turned my listening spell back into a ventriloquism spell. It wasn't hard. I'm not saying that to be boastful, really. It was just restoring the spell back to what it was meant to be. I listened, waited for some juicy gossip, and when I found some, instead of just hearing it in my own ears, I channeled directly into the ears of everypony around me. Hundreds of ears, all hearing what I heard.

"And what they heard was the captain of the student weather team telling the leader of the chess club that she was going to steal away her best friend's colt friend, because her best friend didn't deserve him, and she really wasn't her best friend. They were only friends because their parents were friends, and then she went on to list all of the reasons she found her so-called best friend annoying and awful, but she kept her so-called friend around because her parents gave her money to go out and do fun stuff."

Closing her eyes, Luna turned her head away.

"Of course, her so-called best friend was right there in the cafeteria, and she heard every word said. I went looking for more chatter, and found some too. Everypony got to hear what I hear every day. Every awful thing. Everything was just starting to go full swing when the guards showed up and demanded that I stop. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I don't know what came over me. I started broadcasting everything all at once. What a sound it made. All that negativity. Some of the guards were overwhelmed. I didn't mean to hurt them. That was never my intention. It just… happened. My magic got away from me.

"And then I heard it… it was lost in the noise, but all the time I spent in practice allowed me to focus on it. And then everypony heard it. Mister Burr, the head of the athletics department… he was boasting about how he'd kissed a student and stolen her love away. It was so loud… too loud. I don't know what happened. But everypony heard it. The guard did too. One of them blasted me and I don't know what happened next but I was on the ground and one of the guards was stomping on my face to make the magic stop, because Mister Burr was going into detail about what he'd done. He was saying how her sweet love was like nectar and how eager he was to drink from her again.

"After a few stomps, my spell broke. It just fizzled out. I remember the guard saying that it was just an illusion, something upsetting meant to cause a disturbance. But it wasn't an illusion. It was real. And everypony heard it."

A dreadful weight settled upon Luna's neck but she refused to bow her head. This was somehow worse than anything she might have imagined. She needed time to think before she drew any conclusions or came to any sort of judgment. More than that, Luna really wanted to talk to her sister about all of this. If Overcast had exposed an inappropriate relationship between a staff member and a student, something would have to be done—even if Overcast was in the wrong with his actions.

Without consequences, without intervention, Overcast would continue to hurt the little ponies around him, and Luna could not allow that. Yet, Overcast was also a little pony, and he too was hurting. Punishment would surely drive him further into darkness, into territory terrible and familiar to Luna. What she feared most of all however, the thing that really made her brain itch, was that Overcast was hurting himself. All the signs and symptoms were there; he was using pain as fuel for power. His anguish created a feedback loop that gave him what he craved—power—but left him wanting more.

"I can't say I understand what you've done," Almanac said to Overcast as she leaned in close beside him. "And I barely even know you. But it sounds like you need a friend or three."

"I had friends," Overcast said in return. "They spoke behind my back. They betrayed me. I had parents… and they became strangers to me. I had teachers that I admired… but then I saw them for what they were. As for Wednesday and Topper"—the colt gestured at his two nearby companions—"only time will tell if they are sincere. I am not hopeful."

"I resent that," Wednesday said and she snorted at Overcast in contempt. "You were absolutely right, you know. I was only sorry because I got caught. I played stupid games and I won stupid prizes. But now that I've seen the harm of what my careless actions have done, I want to do better and be a better pony. I don't want to hurt others. Ever. I want ponies to feel good. I want them to be happy. That's the point of my music… my very existence. You helped me to see that about myself."

"I'm guilty of it too," Top Notch said. "I've made bad jokes about the poor students in school. Said terrible things about how they'll let anypony into the school these days. It made my chums laugh. I've said all kinds of bad things about ponies just like her." Lifting his right front hoof, he gestured at Almanac and then looked elsewhere. "They're not my chums anymore. Of course, they don't know it yet, but I suppose they will soon enough. And then I'll be the one being teased and having dreadful things said about me behind my back."

Nudging Top Notch with her whole body, Wednesday said, "Apologise."

"Say again?" asked Top Notch.

"Apologise. Mean it. You'll feel better, Topper."

"Really? Well, alright then." Looking everywhere but at Almanac, Top Notch took a much-needed moment to pull himself together. Then, looking the filly he'd wronged right in the eye, he said in a strained voice, "I'm sorry. I apologise. Truly and sincerely. I didn't know I was hurting somepony. I honestly thought it was just harmless fun… but I was wrong. And I can change."

"Thank you," Almanac said to him. "That means a lot. Means quite a lot, actually. A part of me actually wants to stay in school to see how this turns out."

"I'm not sure there's a point to this," Overcast said to no one in particular. "Or if there is much of a point to anything. While this is nice and feels good now… it can't last. It won't last. Friendship can't survive us. It cannot survive life."

"Overcast"—Wednesday's patience was clearly strained—"why would you say that? Why are you such a downer?"

"If you really want to know, you should go talk with Moon Dancer." Taking a deep breath, Overcast attempted to shake his head, but the pain made him whimper. It took him several long seconds to recover, and when he did, he continued, "She used to be my foalsitter when I was younger. We still talk, she and I. Sometimes. Not so much anymore. But she can tell you all about how her friend ditched her."

"So to prove you wrong, I have to be your lifelong friend and boon companion. Got it."

"Wednesday…" Overcast breathed out her name. "When we last spoke, Moon Dancer helped me with my assignment. She was in advanced matter manipulation with me. One of her best friends just up and left without saying goodbye. Went to Ponyville, I think. It crushed her. For me, it was just more evidence that friendship is fraudulent. Fake. Fake, fake, fake. You'll move away. School will end. You'll make friends that can't stand me and you'll choose them over me. While I'm sure you mean well, and I do actually appreciate you making the effort, it's all for naught. Life will tear us apart. The illusion of friendship can't survive contact with reality."

"Overcast, Topper and I… we had a talk about you." Before Overcast could interrupt, Wednesday continued, "Nothing bad was said. Earlier today, we discussed inviting you to the dance with us, because we didn't want you to be alone."

"So I get to be a third wheel. Awkward."

"Oh, goodness no," Top Notch said with irrepressible cheerfulness. "Whinny said that it might be for the best if we let you just sit in a corner and sulk, or whatever it is that you do. She… we… the two of us, we just didn't want you to be alone. Of course, now it seems as though you might be expelled from school, or worse."

"That's… incredibly nice. You thought about me."

"We didn't want you to be alone. Yes, we discussed you moping in a corner, but we didn't mean it in a bad way, honest. I was actually pretty worried talking about it with Topper. I just thought that somepony should invite you to the dance. Even if you don't dance. Or participate. Or do anything social. I thought you could just hang out in the corner." Wednesday heaved a sigh of relief, rolled her eyes, and a huge mass of curls spilled down to obscure the upper half of her face. "We wanted you to know that somepony thought of you. And maybe we could hang out. Just a bit. Drink punch together. Just be us. Because we have something that seems to be real hard to find these days and that is—"

"If you say friendship, I'll never forgive you," Overcast said to her.

"—understanding. I think we understand each other better than most."

"It's true." Nodding at Luna, Top Notch added, "It's because of her, you know. She made this possible. Princess Luna is our common ground, something that we share together. Without her, we might not have met in a meaningful way. She gave us a chance to be ourselves and to talk and just let everything out and she kept us safe so it could happen. And now, because of her"—he nodded at her a second time—"we have something. I don't know what it is, but I know what it could become."

Something stirred within Luna's breast, something akin to a tender bloom unfurling to greet the springtime sun after a remorseless and prolonged winter. It was delicate, fragile, and something she believed destroyed a long time ago. While she couldn't say what it was, having it back was a tremendous relief. The deep and hidden places within her sinuses burned with a raging inferno while the corners of her eyes had hot stabbing pinpricks that were almost unbearable.

Looking down at the foal she sheltered beneath her wing, she examined his face with great care. It was unlikely that he was stomped on as he had claimed—though being stepped on had most certainly happened. She saw no breaks in the skin, no evidence of hard, sharp hooves smashing into soft, exposed flesh. Overcast was too aware, too alert, and too capable to be seriously hurt. As awful as it looked, it wasn't as bad as it could be, and now that she had calmed down a bit, she could see it quite clearly. A failure had still happened, corrections were necessary, and something had to be done to prevent incidents such as this one in the future.

There was a lot that needed to happen, and it all started with a talk with her sister.

When the need to sniffle announced itself, Luna ignored it. Becoming emotional would solve nothing. Sighing, she cast a quick glance at the foals around her and then tried to collect her thoughts as the sniffles demanded her attention. Overcast posed a real threat to both the students and staff; as much as it pained her to think of it, expelling him might be the best option for keeping the peace. But it would also be the worst option for Overcast, and would do absolutely nothing to help him with his troubles.

If he was expelled, she would not abandon him, though she was uncertain as to what could be done. A dark maw awaited him, a bad end that she was not convinced that he could save himself from. What he needed, as much as it galled her to admit it, were a few friends. Close friends. It was exactly what she needed as well, though Luna had trouble connecting to most adults. She'd seen far too many of their dreams to ever fully trust them, just as Overcast had overheard the very worst in his fellow students.

What Luna needed was her sister, who was also her friend.

"You're a depressing disaster," Avocado said to Overcast. "What you need is to be exposed to better ponies. Like my family." The young filly looked up at the colt beside her, half-smiled, and was immediately blinded by an avalanche of cotton candy pink mane. "Some time in the country might do you good. I can't say we're perfect, but we are different. Canterlot is a snobby place, full of snobby ponies."

"The country?" Though swollen, Overcast's lip made a valiant attempt to curl back into a sneer of horrified disgust. "Leave the city? Leave behind civilisation? Abandon culture?"

"Yeah, silly." Leaning in close, Almanac peered out from between the strands of her mane at Overcast. "Fresh air. Sunshine. Clear skies. Open fields with flowers and trees full of birds."

"Absolutely wretched."

"Ponies are nicer though. I think we're more honest. More helpful. More friendly."

"Perhaps. But boredom."

"Oh, there's no time for boredom," Almanac replied with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "There's stuff to be planted, stuff to be picked, there's eggs to collect, gardens to weed, stuff has to go to market, and there's always work to do in the kitchen so we can store up food for winter."

"That sounds…"

"Wonderful?" Almanac said with a hopeful smile.

"Completely horrendous."

"Hmph." The green filly launched a dismissive snort in Overcast's general direction and she might have rolled her eyes, but it was difficult to tell with all the flowing pink strands of her mane in the way. "So says the flagitious scofflaw."

"You're not wrong," Overcast said, his voice now low and strained thin. "Princess Luna, what is to become of me?"

"Good question, Overcast. What do you think should be done with you?"

"If I am cast out of school, then I shall continue my work out in the world. I will expose every secret, every vulgar bit of gossip, every adulterous conversation. The truth must be made known. I'm not keen on what will surely become of me, but somepony has to do it."

"Overcast… just what will that accomplish?"

"Wednesday"—he said her name in a weary way—"ponies have to be made sorry. You weren't sorry until you were caught. Until every horrible thing is exposed, nothing will ever change."

"But that… that… Overcast, that will wreck everything."

"Maybe things need to be wrecked, Wednesday. Otherwise, how can they be fixed?"

"So what then… what will you do? Just… just walk up to a mare and tell her that her husband talks about cheating on her?"

"Yes, Wednesday, I'll do exactly that."

Reaching up to rub his broad chin, Top Notch stood thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I do believe that your plan ends with you being tarred and feathered. Or worse. You caused a panic in the school and look what happened. You'll be exiled."

"You'll be stopped, Overcast. This is… this is pointless. While your heart might be in the right place, your mind isn't. If you try to do this, others will rise up against you. You will be stopped somehow. I hate to break this to you, Overcast, but you are not the hero."

"Then I have the dirt ready and expose those who might thwart me, Wednesday. I've been thinking about this quite a lot."

"Should we be talking about banishment and exile with Princess Luna sitting right here with us?" asked Almanac. "Feels insensitive."

Lips pursed into a thoughtful-but-pouty moue, Luna had nothing to say about this.

When Luna did not respond, Almanac had more to say. "Maybe Overcast isn't wrong. Maybe ponies need a shocking reminder that their actions have consequences. Maybe, just maybe, if ponies behaved themselves and didn't act like snobby jerks, Overcast wouldn't be motivated to do… whatever it is that he's planning to do. Whatever happens, Overcast was met halfway."

"Why, thank you, Almanac."

"No! No! No!" Waving one front leg from side to side, Wednesday vehemently shook her head with each refusal. "What a terrible thing to say, Almanac! Just terrible!"

"He fixed my glasses," the avocado-green filly replied. "And he was nice to me. I keep my nose clean so I have nothing to worry about. Others will get what they so rightly deserve."

"How can you take his side on this?" Wednesday demanded.

"Well, I just thought about it, and all I could think about was how much it hurt to be snubbed. Everything that's happened has made me want to quit school. No… worse than that… there's been a few dark hours when I've wanted to quit life. So maybe it's time for others to be on the receiving end."

"But that doesn't make things better!" Wednesday shouted in exasperation.

"Neither does ignoring the problem for the sake of civility and hoping that it will just go away for whatever reason so that we all—"

"Topper, not you too!"

"Whinny, I'm not taking his side, but I am trying to understand it."

"Princess Luna"—turning her desperate gaze upon the Princess of the Night, Wednesday tried to appeal to the alicorn's sense of reason—"what do you think would happen if you went around telling ponies what other ponies dream? What would happen if you exposed everypony's secrets? I know that you have to see some awful things. But these are dreams. Dreams aren't always intentional. Sometimes, they're just… they're just, well, they don't make sense. I know that sometimes dreams reveal our innermost desires and reveal our dark sides. But we don't always act upon the things we dream."

"But we do say lots of things and I think that's intentional, so I don't know if this is a valid comparison, Wednesday."

"Topper!"

"Sorry, Whinny. Dreams just happen and we're there for them, like a foal attending class. Saying bad things is more intentional."

"But surely, sometimes we say things we don't mean. For whatever reason. Surely there are reasons." Wednesday started to back away, but halted when her hindquarters bumped the desk. "They don't have to be good reasons. It doesn't make it alright. Ponies do stupid things but I don't think there should be anarchy because of it."

"But this presents another problem."

"And that is, Topper?"

"Well, Whinny… it sets a precedent that we shouldn't trust others to do what they say. If we become aware of what is being said, and they are voicing their desires or what have you, and then we trust them to not go through with what's been said, then we're trusting them not to keep their word. I think. This is all very confusing to me. I'm not a fast thinker. I need hours, sometimes days to present a rational and well-spoken argument. It never pays to be hasty."

"He's got something of a point," Luna said, finally interjecting an opinion into this discussion.

Fuming, Wednesday shook her head. "I don't like how life is complicated. Not one bit."

Overcast squirmed beneath Luna's wing, a clear sign that he'd been babied enough. Though he wobbled a bit, and was a bit off balance, he seemed well enough—though he looked truly awful. The sort of awful that would make a mother worry. Luna thought of Overcast's mother and wondered how she must worry. While it would be tribalist to say it aloud, pegasus mothers were different in some fundamental way. It wasn't that other types of ponies were bad mothers, or were somehow lacking—pegasus mares were just different.

Almost smiling, Luna thought of Fluttershy, and wanted to be close to the sunny yellow pegasus again. There was a certain strength to her, but also a valuable serenity. Sighing, Luna pushed these distractions from her mind, and focused instead on the group of foals clustered around her. There could be no doubting it; Almanac Avocado was one of them. For better or worse, she was a part of this clique, this coterie of mismatched sorts. It made Luna worry though, because little Almanac looked up at Overcast with the same worshipful expression of unabashed adoration that Overcast had when he looked up at his Dreamwalker.

There was a herd dynamic at work, Luna realised. Wherever she might go, Overcast would follow. And where Overcast went, little Almanac would no doubt be right behind him, because that was the nature of things. It terrified Luna that this development even existed, and there were dangerous implications; if she fell into shadow, others would most certainly follow. But there were the others to think about as well. Wednesday was undeniably sincere in her desire to save Overcast from himself, which meant that she too would be right behind him, no doubt trying to warn him, and Topper would tag along because Wednesday was just that sort of filly.

A hunch told Luna that Wednesday and Top Notch would be inseparable. Perhaps it was instinct, or a touch of alicorn prognostication. Wednesday would be forever grateful that Topper had given her a chance and gotten to know her during her most awkward of awkward phases, and as for Topper—well, Topper was a settler. Once settled into place, he would never budge. Canterlot was full of these sorts of ponies and for whatever reason, Celestia prized them and adored them.

"I'm thirsty," Overcast announced.

Luna had a faint inkling of what she had to do, but first, she had to talk to her sister.

Leveling her stern gaze upon Wednesday, she said, "There is much that needs to be done and I need a pony that I can trust. You'll do."

"I'll do for what?" asked Wednesday.

"I need somepony to be Overcast's nurse and to look after him." Luna's bare explanation wasn't enough, so she elaborated thusly: "Right now, Overcast is in a heap of trouble. I need somepony to keep him out of trouble. Given all that has happened"—she hesitated, knowing that her words might be considered problematic—"I am not certain that the staff can be trusted. Things are strange, though I don't know why. Overcast was correct about one thing, and that somepony should have fixed Almanac's glasses. There is something amiss and something tells me that this has been a problem for quite some time. I can't say what is wrong exactly, because there is no one thing that I can single out. Just a lot of little troubling things that disturb me."

What she didn't say aloud was her own realisation; Celestia too had to know something was amiss, and Luna's appointment to the head of the detention program was no coincidence. She looked down at Overcast for a short time, then glanced over at Almanac, who hadn't taken her eyes off the colt. The problem with good ponies, Luna thought to herself, was that they did not listen to troublemakers. At least, not in the ways that it was prudent. Something had tweaked Overcast in the wrong way, and sent him into a downward spiral. Help should have been had long before this point—a clear indicator of system failure.

Yes, something was amiss.

Something electric jolted through Luna's mind as she became more and more aware and her heightened alicorn senses came into play. Turning to Wednesday, she said, "Trust no one. However strange this might sound, be suspicious and be bold. Trust no one. Stay together, at least until I have a chance to talk to my sister. Listen to me very carefully. The teachers have to be aware of the fact that Overcast can eavesdrop on their wrongdoing. While I cannot say why, this… this alarms me in some way. While I do not think this is a serious threat, it does feel… off. Yes, it feels off in some way. Reprisal is possible. So stay together."

"You're serious—"

"I am," Luna replied in her most commanding tone. "I cannot say what will happen, and that bothers me. The very fact that something could happen sets me on edge. Normally, I would dismiss my thoughts as dangerous paranoia. I must confess, I am prone to that, given what I know as the Dreamwalker. But this, this feels—"

"Knowing that everypony is out to get you doesn't make you paranoid."

"Overcast, stop that. Stop that at once. Do not make this worse. Cease your rapscallionry at once. Just… give it a rest, in the modern parlance."

"Do you really think that Overcast might be in danger?" asked Top Notch.

"I do not know and that is the problem. The possibility of it vexes me."

"I understand," Top Notch said. "Really, I do. There's clearly things going on that shouldn't be going on, and that leaves the doors open to even worse things that might be going on."

"Clever Topper," Wednesday said.

"Thank you, Whinny."

"Yes, clever Topper." Luna cleared her throat. "My sister might have some insight. It is time I spoke with her about a great many things. Do as I say though, and stick together."

Nodding, Wednesday replied, "Yes, of course, Princess Luna."

"What a suckup—"

"Quiet, Flunkius," Luna said to Overcast.

"Hey!"

"Overcast… do you know of a quiet out of the way place where you might go? A secluded place?"

"I have lots of those," he replied.

"Good. Go to them. Keep a low profile. I will come for you later. For now, I'd rather not make the whole school aware of the fact that I am aware of whatever problem lurks in the shadows. There is… there is something wrong. But I cannot say what it is or how I know. Overcast, use your ears to keep your companions safe. Or… better yet, try to teach your companions how to listen."

"What?"

"You heard me."

The first prickle of panic tingled Luna's spine.

"Stay together," she commanded. "Trust one another."

"Right. Will do. Well then, I'm in charge." Wednesday ignored Overcast's sneer and stood tall. "Overcast… where do we go and how do we get there?"

"I know a place," he replied, "and the best way to get there is through the service tunnels used by housekeeping and groundskeeping."

"Those should be inaccessible to students." This earned Luna the full impact of Overcast's leaden stare. If it were anypony else, she might have smacked them for such an insolent and haughty act, or at least given them a good dressing down. But Overcast had a talent, and she did not wish to discourage it.

In fact, she very much wanted to cultivate it.

"I will return to you when I can. Wednesday, I shall carry you and Overcast down the stairs. Do not worry about how I shall find you, I shall find you. Overcast"—she looked down at him and he up at her—"you and I have much to discuss. But for now, keep your friends safe."

His only response was a solemn nod.

"In the event that this is nothing," Luna said to those around her, "please, do not think less of me. Come. Let us go. Fetch your belongings and let us depart."

"This is exciting," Almanac said. "Now I have to stay in school just to see what happens!"

Author's Notes:

Whew, I guess? Big thanks to all those who helped to find typos. I couldn't have done this without you. I've stared at this mass of words for so long that I've gone blind to them. This chapter endured several extensive rewrites. The characters were uncooperative and demanded changes. I was worried about body horror in a comedy drama and Luna insisted that there wasn't enough body horror.

And yes, there is a second story going on in the background. Some have noticed, others have not. There's been a couple of messages asking what is going on... and I suppose I should remind myself that not everybody has watched every season of FiM. Assuming that people would understand the references because they've watched the source material, well, that was dumb of me. And I am sorry. No snark, no sarcasm, I swear. As a writer, sometimes you just, well, do exactly what I just did. Incorporating show elements into your fic and dropping references to specific events feels natural, but not everybody has seen the old seasons. I guess. This feels awkward. Wish I knew how to fix it. Not sure what to do.

Anyhow, I'd appreciate if you told me what you think about all of this. The story, I mean. It's been a deep dive of sorts. I was trying something new. Not sure how the end result is turning out, because I'm blind to this sort of thing. That, and I think the pandemic has rotted my brain.

Thank you, Constant Reader. There are two more chapters left. The next chapter is Annulus, and some of you might need to do some homework to understand the meaning behind that title. I wanted to call it something else, something more relatable and understandable, but I really, really want to stick with all the meaning behind the desired title. As for the last chapter, it will be called The Final Detention.

Annulus

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It was always so difficult to begin, which is to say, beginnings were hard. Luna was great at ending things, but starting them? Going to her sister seemed easy enough, but it meant starting something. It wasn't so long ago that Luna had convinced herself that her sister had put her in charge of detention to damage her standing. To make her somehow even more hated. But quite the opposite had happened; Luna was now a reverent figure of worship to at least one, and she was confident that she was friends with three more.

To think that all of this could have been ruined by paranoia and accusation.

Just a while ago she had convinced herself that her sister was out to get her. She was her own worst enemy and in a moment of cold honesty, she acknowledged that. Crazy-thoughts were crazy-thoughts, and Luna still had them. She was having them right now, she realised, as she delayed what was vitally necessary. Why did she do this to herself, and more importantly, how could she stop?

Looking around her, Luna saw the guard out in force. They were everywhere and in great numbers. Something was going on, but Luna's current state of mind barely allowed her to register it. If she became involved with the guard, she might never make it to her sister. That was how these things worked. When Luna wanted a distraction, she found one. A part of her wanted to go and find her young friends, just to make certain they were fine. But that too, was a distraction, something that would keep her from her sister.

The inevitable could no longer be delayed. Reaching out with her mind, Luna sought out her sister's location. She felt out all of the could-be places, but found them empty. A bit more searching revealed that Celestia was in the kitchens, which meant one of two things. Celestia was either advising the staff about meals, or she was grazing. The most obvious answer was that she was grazing, because that was what she was wont to do in times of trouble.

Reaching through the aether, Luna felt her way to her desired location—and vanished.

Golden light streamed in through the window and bathed Celestia in warm sunshine. Which was really an impressive feat because said window was in the shadow of the garden wall and facing away from the sun's current given location. Luna marveled at it for a moment—she could do the same neat trick with moonbeams—and then she noticed that snacks had thoughtfully been laid out for her.

Celestia sat on a cushion next to a low table. A second cushion awaited, this one covered in gaudy silver stars. For whatever reason, it seemed as though Celestia knew that this meeting would happen. Luna stood there, trying to make sense of things, while also trying to quiet her own thoughts, which were noisy and scattered. There was banana milk on the table—smashed bananas whipped and frothed in sweet, creamy milk—and other treats that Luna was entirely too fond of. It was the worst sort of bait, because Luna lacked the self control and willpower to resist. If only such a spread had been laid out on that fateful night, Luna might have resisted the siren song of darkness.

"You always did like kitchens," Celestia remarked. "They were your happy place. I've never understood your outright fascination with them, but I've always believed it was one of the best parts of you."

This was a staging kitchen, a rather large place with a lot of empty space. Food was brought here, final preparation was done, and everything was loaded onto carts and trolleys so that it could be served in one of the many dining halls. Staging kitchens were of particular interest, because they were organised chaos. Just like post offices. But at the moment, this kitchen was quiet. Deserted, save for two. The tile floor was clean, gleaming even, and the appliances were all spotless. If anything, the room was too clean, and didn't look lived in.

At least the cupboards weren't full of books.

"Kitchens are a place where laughter is made," Luna said to her sister, "and happiness can be measured out by the spoonful."

"I don't know if I understand that, Luna."

"I think that if anypony does, it might be Pinkie Pie."

"Are you going to sit down?" asked Celestia.

"I would, but that means starting up a conversation. And that scares me."

"Banana milk, Luna."

"I spoke with Twilight," Luna confessed.

"I know," her sister replied. "I returned the cast iron skillet. But not the corn fritters. I ate those."

"I'm sorry."

"For what, Luna?"

Did this mean she had a lot to be sorry for? Was Celestia keeping track of every little thing? Every little slight? Distracted, Luna could not help but to ponder this. Conflicted, she stuffed this down before it could become a problem and warily eyed her sister. "I'm sorry that I spoke to Twilight before I spoke to you. I wanted to speak to you… but it was hard. Harder than you know."

There were a thousand things to say and only so much time to say them in.

"Come, Luna. Sit down with me. Let us get to know each other better."

"Oh, there is much I know about you," Luna began whilst she remained standing in place.

To which Celestia replied with, "Such as what, Dearest Sister?"

"I know that you fear and hate the warm open spaces beneath a blanket," Luna said, almost whispering out her words as if they were some kind of troubling confession. "When you encounter those empty spaces, you are overcome with guilt because you have excess when so many have nothing at all. Because of this, you like blankets to be smooth and tight over you, or to have no blankets at all. You would fill those empty spaces if you could, so that others might share in your warmth."

Celestia blinked in surprise.

"I have walked between the many wrinkles of your mind. There is much I know."

"Do you know how much I love you?"

This… this wasn't fair. There was no way for Luna to answer this question. It wasn't a secret, which she dabbled in. It wasn't connected to guilt, which drew her in like flies to filth. Celestia made no effort to hide this, which made Luna utterly and completely blind to it. Because it could not be measured, because it could not be known, Luna rather tended to treat it as if it did not exist. Was this a weakness, and if so, was her sister exploiting it? It set off a firestorm of doubt and paranoia in the recesses of her mind, and she thought all of the worst things, the most terrible things—the very sorts of things she could never stop herself from thinking.

Rather than feel joy, as might be intended, Luna felt somewhat resentful.

Which was all kinds of wrong of course, and as a result, guilt and shame riddled her guts like bad cramps, no doubt mirroring the aftermath of Twilight Sparkle's soap swallowing splatastrophe. This sudden onset of emotion made her want to flee the kitchen and this impossible conversation. Everything had gone from awkward to unbearable in no time at all. Filling her starved lungs with much-needed air, Luna waited while hoping that the moment would pass. Standing there, uncertain, wishing to flee, Luna thought of a few thinkful thunks, but her mind did not clear.

The muscles in her legs knotted, as if taking pre-emptive measures to prevent her from running. A cold, clammy, unwelcomed, unwanted prickle manifested just behind both ears, which made her face feel too small, and far too tight. Why did this happen? She stood there, powerless as if spellbound, and cast a blank stare upon her sister. If Celestia had an inkling of Luna's internal distress, she showed no sign. Her face revealed nothing, save for a sense of kindness.

"I came for help," Luna somehow managed to say, overcoming her body's steadfast refusal to speak.

"So did I."

This response was unexpected; so much so it crumbled some of Luna's defenses.

Recovering a bit of herself, she stumbled closer to the table, teetered a bit, kept her balance only because she was a creature of purest majesty, sat down upon the cushion laid out for her, and then eyeballed her cold, frothy banana milk. She deserved it. Earned it. As soon as she knew that her magic could be trusted, she would drink it. But for now, she just stared at it awkwardly.

"I reached a conclusion that you made me the Princess of Detention." Betrayed by her own mouth, Luna sat there for a moment in shocked disbelief. Before she could recover, the traitorous giblet that was her tongue had more to say. "Of course, I managed to convince myself that you did it so I would be hated. So that you would be the brighter one by comparison. Even one of the students said something about it. There were a great many crazy-thoughts in the past few days. It caused me much distress."

Passive, with no visible reaction to be seen upon her face, Celestia just sat there.

The sisters eyeballed one another in the way that only sisters could.

This continued until Celestia broke the stalemate by saying, "You don't make it easy, you know."

To which Luna struggled to reply with, "I suppose I do not."

"You came to me and asked me for something to do. Something to ease the lonely hours. But then you absolutely refused to talk about what you wanted, or what you needed, and when I tried to ask questions, you grew defensive and sullen. When I tried pressing, to gain just a tiny bit of helpful information, you attacked me and fled."

"I did." Though, in her own defense, Luna swiftly added, "Attack is such a strong statement. I had one of my turns, I suppose."

"What choice did I have? What options did you leave me? There are times when I have no choice but to inquire because your wants are so vague."

"Well, I suppose, to be fair, I did receive a task that has eased the lonely hours."

Both Luna and the glass of banana milk were sweating now. Like a desert wanderer, she cast her longing gaze upon the fat droplets of condensation that rolled down the sides of the glass. It was cold; it had to be cold and was best made with almost-frozen bananas. Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips and when it touched the velvet fuzz of her chin she shivered. An explosive snort from across the table jolted her to attention; when she looked up, she saw a smile on her sister's face.

"Just drink it, Luna. Why torture yourself? Why all this drama?"

How could she explain that she didn't trust her magic in her emotional state? If she tried to mention it, what if Celestia took it wrong? What if it came out as a sign that she could not be trusted? Or that she might somehow botch her duty to move the moon? Revealing that there was a problem was dangerous, because doing so would shine a light upon all the other hidden faults. Still, she very much wanted to drink; the waiting was torture and Luna had faint hope that it might last.

Sitting on her cushion, longing for her banana milk, Luna was a total cutetastrophe.

"We have a villain in our midst," Luna blurted out.

"Many. More than a few. Did you have a particular one in mind, Sister?"

Thinking of Overcast caused a new flood of emotion and Luna became increasingly jittery. This was getting harder. Why was this so hard? She took a deep breath, then another, and then, when she thought of Overcast once more, she felt better. Maybe not calmer, but better. On the table, there were cookies, cakes, tarts, and even little sandwiches. Seeing the sandwiches made Luna remember Almanac's remark about beanstalks, and this almost caused a fit of nervous laughter that would be impossible to explain.

"Overcast," Luna said at last.

"I thought today was rather sunny," Celestia replied.

Luna returned a deadpan stare, but still wanted to laugh about beanstalks.

"It's a troubling incident," Celestia said and the tone of her voice shifted in an unpleasant way. "He's caused quite a commotion. I don't even know where to begin. There is so much to tell you, Luna. Sometimes, starting feels impossible when everything is so complicated." Tilting her head, she struck a thoughtful pose. "Before I begin, there is something I want to say to you, Luna. Something of utmost importance. Something you should know."

"And that is?" asked Luna.

"I trust your paranoia. Yes, I know how strange that sounds, and I don't know if I can explain myself, but I trust in your paranoia. Right now, I am so overwhelmed. Discord's return. Everything happening. The wedding. There is something wrong with my school. Twilight enchanted a doll and ensorcelled Ponyville. The damage was extensive."

"There is most certainly something amiss with the school," Luna replied. Her sister's words got stuck in her ears, the part about trusting paranoia in particular. How did one respond to that? Just the mere mention of it caused a fresh outbreak of more paranoia. It was a peculiar thing to say, without a doubt.

"Overcast's outburst caused a bit of a panic," Celestia began, and she closed her eyes in a thoughtful way. "Of course, I had to find out the truth once I was informed. I had the guard go to collect Mister Burr… but he was gone. When the guard went to his home, they found it in a condition that could only be described as… abandoned. All the house plants were dead. The food was rotten. Everything was covered in dust. Nopony had lived there for months."

"How… strange."

"You have no idea, Luna." Opening up her eyes, Celestia transfixed Luna with a calculating and cunning stare. "Over half of the school's teachers have vanished. They're just gone. And their homes are also in varying states of abandonment. Some recent, and some appearing long-term. Just gone. As if they'd just never existed."

"What?" Reaching out with her mind, without even thinking about it, Luna lifted up the sweating glass of banana milk and greedily gulped down almost half of it in one go.

"Half of my teachers are missing. They cannot be found. Even with magical methods. They are gone."

Licking the banana froth from her lips, Luna was unable to think of a suitable response.

"The school… my school… something went wrong. All of the teachers… changed in some way. Recently. I cannot put my hoof on when. But some of them started to become… cold. Distant. These were ponies I knew, Sister. And they avoided me. Some of them were my students before they became teachers. I knew them. I knew them… and they refused my invites for supper and for tea. They… avoided me. A while back, I started to wonder if Discord had done something and I was going to begin researching the problem… but Cadance… she became… I don't even know how to talk about Cadance."

Luna thought about Overcast's harsh lesson when he fixed Almanac's glasses. Yes, the teachers should have done something—but didn't. Which made everything said by Celestia even more intriguing. Setting down her glass, Luna composed her thoughts for a brief time, and then, with a much clearer head, she involved herself in this difficult conversation.

"Overcast mentioned the teachers were acting strange. There's a student, Almanac Avocado… her glasses were broken. Overcast fixed them and he, well, he said something very damaging to Almanac about how the teachers didn't care about her. And he used her broken glasses as an example."

"Well, he's absolutely right," Celestia replied without a second's delay. "Surely, it's a symptom. But of what? I strongly suspect that Discord has sown chaos in the school. Perhaps to cripple the unicorns that pose the very worst sort of threat to him."

"Sister, you were the one that put all of your eggs into one basket."

"See, Luna… there's that paranoia that I value. That right there. I have, in fact, put all of my eggs into one basket. And now, Equestria's most precious and most valuable place of education and learning is in crisis. The teachers have gone missing. There's one thing that just doesn't fit together though."

"And that is?" asked Luna.

"Mister Burr's home was abandoned months ago, before Discord got free."

"Perhaps Discord's influence could be felt before he freed himself from his statue," Luna suggested.

"If that were true, why didn't we feel it?"

This stupefied Luna, and she did not have a good answer. Not at all. Lifting her glass once more, she drained it with two gulps, licked her lips, and then put the glass back down upon the table. Something was off, and worse than that, something had been off for a while. It had gone without notice. Leaning over the table, Luna began to try to make the pieces fit, but she didn't recognise the puzzle laid out before her.

"I am unable to give this my attention," Celestia said to Luna. "Something… there is something wrong with Cadance. I've never tried magic like that before. I fear I might have made a mistake, Luna. We bicker constantly about the coming wedding and all this fighting… it drains me in some strange way. I'm weakened, Luna. I cannot concentrate properly. Cannot focus. I am positive that I can fix it, and I will do so after the wedding when things calm down and—"

"If things calm down," Luna said, interrupting. "It is dangerous to assume that things will calm down. All manner of thousand year old evil is returning. There is a dark shadow to the north, if the yaks are to be believed. If Discord's influence did something to the school without our notice, just imagine what else it might have done to the world at large. All of our carefully laid protections and the dangerous things we've sealed away. He may have undone a great many protections so that the world might be thrown into chaos. Which is what he needs to gain strength."

"Your pessimism does you credit, Luna."

Conflicted, Luna did not know how to respond to that.

"Luna, I am struggling with the most basic of tasks. Even my magic feels depleted somehow. I don't know if Discord has hexed me or if my suspicions are true and there is something wrong with Cadance. It's like… it's like she pulls all of the love and warmth out of me when we bicker. Our arguing leaves me tired. I must make a very strange request of you, Dearest Sister."

"And that is?"

"Avoid Cadance at all costs. For now. Until I can figure out what is going on and sort it out. Keep your distance. And please, please, I am begging you… find out what is wrong with my school. You're the only pony I can trust to do what must be done. Your paranoia and natural suspicion are my best hope."

"Those are the very things that were my undoing—"

"But you are getting better now," Celestia interjected, "and now they can be your strength. Please. Please. I am spread so thin right now. There's only so much I can do."

"And you could do better if you knew that your school is safe."

Across the table, Celestia nodded while saying, "I am trusting you with the most precious thing I have."

"So then, what is to be done with Overcast?" asked Luna.

"That is up to you," was Celestia's slow and careful response. "You are in charge of disciplinary actions, Luna. His fate is to be decided by you. However, there is something I want."

"You have but to ask."

"I want him to be made a prefect. A praepostor."

"You wish to reward him?"

"Oh, goodness no. You misunderstand. I want the punishment to fit the crime. If he wishes to snoop and go dropping eaves, then his ne'er-do-well antics will be made to serve the public good. I do not wish to tell you how to do your job, oh Princess of Detention, but in my school, we have a long, long history of making the punishment fit the crime. Not that we've had that many troublemakers. But… things happen."

"You also wish to send a message to the remaining teachers and students that they are being monitored," Luna said as her sister's intentions clarified in her mind. "Am I to revive my role as Inquisitor?"

Celestia did not respond right away. She sat with her lips pursed in a thoughtful way, and when she did finally respond, she was not the sunny optimist that presented herself to the public at large. "No. That is unnecessary, for now. We're not dealing with chaos cultists. Though it does seem that Overcast is gifted at causing chaos."

"You have no idea," Luna mentioned. "If only you knew what he has planned. He means to upend society and prove that friendship is fraudulent."

"Why am I not surprised?" Then, Celestia asked, "What is to be done with him?"

"I would save him. If I can. He is me. But he's only just started down the path."

"Can he be saved?" asked Celestia.

The question caused Luna considerable pain, both physical and mental. A sort of cold anguish that lingered like malaise in the mind and a chilly ache in the joints. "I want to believe that he can. Whatever is to be done, I am not yet sure what to do, or how to go about it."

"If he is to become a villain, then I want him kept in school so that we can keep an eye on him, Luna. Expelling him would be disastrous, I feel. I reviewed his student record. His potential is considerable."

"Apparently, he is enrolled in advanced matter manipulation classes."

"Yes, there is that and that sets off warning bells. That should not be. There must have been a mistake made, or some kind of oversight."

Fearful of what the truth might bring, Luna dared to reveal even more. "I am almost certain that he is using pain to fuel his spellcasting."

"So little Overcast dares to dabble in the dark arts, does he?" If Celestia was surprised by this, she did nothing to show it. "That is becoming increasingly common. There's been incidents." A pained expression caused her face to contort in an unpleasant way.

"Incidents?" Ears forward, Luna chose to be direct. "Is there anything that I should know about? The guard that brought Overcast to me said there was no procedure to follow. But what you just said seems to contradict what the guard had to say."

"My previous student"—voice cracking, Celestia struggled to get the words out—"the one before Twilight, she… she betrayed me. There was… things happened. She… she turned to darkness. There was an incident. But it was covered up. She's gone. In exile. She's… well, she's off-world."

Luna nodded—but she did not press her sister for more information.

"I'll see to it that you get a copy of the report," Celestia said, almost whispering and each word was spoken with pained hesitation. "It might help you in your duties. Why, it might even help you with Overcast."

"Thank you." It seemed like the right thing to say, but it also felt as though it wasn't enough to soothe Celestia's troubled soul and Luna very much wanted to make her sister feel better.

"If only I had your sense of suspicion, Luna. Things might have turned out differently. I… I very much want to assume the very best of my little ponies. I want to believe in their goodness. Sometimes, I allow myself to be blinded. Had you been here, you might have saved her before she was lost to the darkness. But… she is lost. Overcast though… I am greatly relieved that your paths have crossed. Save my students, Luna. Especially the ones that flirt with shadow. I am trusting you."

Unsure of what to say, Luna did not respond.

"You know, Luna… I feel that your downfall is my fault—"

"We've been over this, Sister. I made terrible choices."

"Luna, please, hear me out. Something you've said has given me pause. I pushed you into your role as Equestria's Inquisitor in Chief. At the time, it felt very necessary. But it made the little ponies fear you. It made them not trust you. And I did shine all the brighter by comparison. However necessary it might have been for our survival, it was a mistake. One you paid for. I'll not make that mistake again. Ever. The cost is much too dear. While you might be the Princess of Detention, or however you might see yourself during one of your flights of fancy, I do not want you hated or mistrusted.

"Because of your imagination and your sense of fun, you have a way with the littlest of little ponies, and I want them to trust you. This was a calculated move on my part. When the littlest of the little ponies grow up, they shall become little ponies that trust you. Implicitly. If I am completely honest, you might even have a few followers that trust you more than they do me… and that is a price I am willing to pay so that you might be happy. I am sharing my students with you."

"Fantastic." A wry smirk haunted Luna's face, a grim spectre of sarcasm. "So far I have a close-minded traditionalist that can't say no, a trumpet player unfit for the school's marching band, a book-loving nerd, and an anti-Twilight. Oh, and the book-loving nerd believes the anti-Twilight is the best thing since sliced bread and just might be worshipping him right now as we speak. He's no-doubt poisoning her mind with all manner of talk about how friendship is fraudulent, the teachers are all the worst, and parents are awful monsters that can't be trusted."

"Oh dear," Celestia sighed.

"All of them are very dear to me," Luna confessed. "You may keep your cream that rises to the top. I adore my collection of misfits."

"Somepony has to love them," Celestia replied, "otherwise, how will they live up to their full potential?"

"I suppose there was a time when the teachers might have helped them." Speaking her thoughts aloud, Luna shared her innermost reflections. "But something has gone wrong. Teachers once compassionate and thoughtful have turned to indifference and apathy. Well, the teachers that remain, that is. How will the school even operate with so many teachers now missing? A lot of struggling students are bound to slip through the cracks. I suppose I must be the one to save them."

Across the table, Celestia offered up a single solemn nod.

"I have no idea what I am doing and I am bound to make mistakes."

"Luna, I have made mistakes. Those are to be expected."

"But there are lives at stake. Futures."

A soft sigh escaped Celestia and she turned her head away. "Mistakes are made. My previous student paid for my mistakes. You have paid for my mistakes. That… that is the cost of rule, Dearest Sister. Everypony pays for your mistakes while you… you get to live with them."

"I wish I'd come to talk sooner."

Turning her head once more, this time Celestia's gaze focused upon Luna.

"My thoughts betray me. Often. I think absolutely crazy things. Sometimes I think the worst of you. And also myself." When Luna swallowed, the hard lump in her throat did not go down. "Overcast thinks the worst of others, and he may be right. He developed his gifts at the worst possible time and wasn't ready for what he discovered. The school is in crisis and all he's heard just confirms what he's already convinced himself is true."

Eyebrow arching, Celestia waited.

"The same thing happened to me," Luna said and the pebbly texture of her tongue turned to dry sand. "The same thing happened to me. I came into my own during a time of crisis. I ended Grogar and his cadre of necromancers. That… that was only the beginning. As Inquisitor, I hunted down the chaos cultists that aided and assisted Discord. I saw the very worst in ponies. All of my worst suspicions were confirmed. Everything I believed to be true… was. It was."

"You robbed the God-King of his worshippers and weakened him significantly," Celestia said to her sister. "His defeat might not have been possible otherwise. I'm sorry that it had such a cost. Because of you, because of your actions, because you sacrificed so much of yourself, there is an Equestria. There is—"

"An Equestria that rejected me!" Luna spat out these words and her humours suffered churning turmoil. "An Equestria that feared me! An Equestria that remembers nothing of what I did for them! I was forgotten! Your school doesn't even teach about the Inquisition or that period of our history!"

"It… doesn't. And I am sorry. That is my doing. I wanted you to be able to return with a clean slate. I wanted you to have a chance, Dearest Sister."

When Luna could not fault this logic, all of her anger turned to profound sadness.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to give you a chance to escape your past. When I came up with this idea, I was still young. Stupid. Foolish. Unwise. You were always the planner and the plotter, Luna. Your paranoia, your suspicion, your leeriness, your natural caution and wariness, these things I am not. You were always the one to think ahead and conceive of every possible outcome. I'm not gifted in that way. It doesn't come naturally to me. I had to learn as I tried to hold Equestria together and mistakes were made. Terrible mistakes that I spend every day regretting."

Lower lip protruding, Luna glared at her sister in the most glaringly way possible, but the remnants of her anger and foul mood had no substance. Still she tried, she tried with all due effort for intense glarification because the annoying little sunspot had it coming. Luna heeded the glarion call of annoyance for as long as she could, which wasn't long at all and her lower lip went flaccid. It was hard to stare down your big sister when stricken with performance anxiety.

"The world has no need of inquisitors," Celestia said, her voice soft and somehow reassuring. "But a Princess of Detention on the other hoof… the world has need of that. I want you to root out the cause, the source of trouble, and deal with it. I'm not going to tell you how to do your job, but I will give you every resource to get it done. I want my students safe. Healthy. Well-adjusted. I want them to trust their teachers again. I want my students to be as they were… before the school was plagued by all this gossip and derision. It wasn't always like this, you know. I mean, sure, there's always gossip. Foals are little chatterboxes.

"But it wasn't so… so… it wasn't so—"

"Malicious?"

"That seems like a harsh indictment of the current situation and I—"

"What you call harsh, I call honest. Half of your teachers have just gone missing and you have no idea why." Luna heard her sister swallow and she could not help but wonder if the lump was stuck in her throat.

"Well, you were the bearer of the Element of Honesty once."

"An inquisitor seeks truth." For whatever reason, stating the obvious brought Luna no satisfaction and she rather regretted her words. "It's funny, Sister. I made others tell the truth. I drew dishonesty out of them like poison. After being exposed to my… tender mercies, they would tell me everything. At my worst, I had the strongest connection to the Element of Honesty. It ruled my every action, for a time. Anything was permissible for the sake of discovering the truth.

"When the shadow entered my life, I became dishonest. I lost my way. I lost my connection to the elements in my possession, all of them. And when those precious connections were severed, I lost myself. Not to undermine your faith and confidence in our most powerful, most precious weapons, but there is a very real dark side to them. The need for truth pulled me into shadow. Every confession I extracted made my soul a little more callous."

"Well, that's unsettling," Celestia said with a huff.

"You shouldn't lie," Luna whispered. "It does not become you."

"I'm not lying—"

Luna silenced her sister with some softly whispered words: "Feigning ignorance is inherently dishonest."

"What are you going on about?"

"Celestia"—using her sister's name had a certain weightiness to it that left Luna uncomfortable—"I know for certain that the Element of Magic caused you to explore the aspects of dark magic. Dark magic. The darkest of magics. You know exactly that of which I speak. His magic. Som—"

"Say not his name!" A pained expression could be seen only for a fleeting second on Celestia's face, and then it was gone. A normal pony might have missed it, but Luna was no normal pony. Neither was Celestia, and her current expression showed that she knew that Luna had seen it. "It's true. I dabbled in that magic. I… well, I convinced myself that I needed to know how it worked so that I might free those spellbound by it. I wanted a cure… but it led me to dark places. I gained an understanding of it, but at such a cost."

"Had you been a little pony"—Luna's words were auditory ice—"you would have found yourself in my care for a full confession."

"We've both lived through extraordinary events. I suppose that is what makes us who and what we are. I've learned my lesson. Never again."

"Circumstance might make you a liar—"

"It might," Celestia snapped, "but should I have my way, never again. Circumstances be damned!"

"I understand." These words were softer now. Kinder. More gentle. For Luna, it felt good to say them. "Sometimes a healer must ingest poison to see what it does to one's own humours. Sometimes a little bit of poison in controlled amounts does the body a world of good."

"Perhaps," was Celestia's response, "but now I lie about the poisons I've swallowed because I am ashamed of the cures I've longed to discover."

"It's hard to be us," Luna said, nodding.

"I think, in hindsight, that the Elements of Harmony were bad for us," Celestia said to her sister. "We're beings of absolute power. I know that you know the old chestnut about absolute power and what it does. We have infinite potential, you and I, and when paired with the Elements… I cannot help but wonder if we upset the balance. Perhaps it is best for Twilight and her new friends to be the bearers. Each of them. Individually. Little ponies that they are. It might be for the better."

"Why is it so hard for us to talk like this?" asked Luna.

"We seem to be talking now."

"Yes, but the start. The beginning. Just… sitting down together. Why is it so difficult?"

"I wish I knew. Perhaps for you, it is because you flipped my room around. I bet the guilt is tearing you apart."

A crescent moon smile appeared upon Luna's face as if by magic.

"So… if you don't mind me asking, what are your plans for Overcast?"

"A lifetime of detention," Luna replied as her smile became a straight, thin line.

"That seems just a little bit harsh. Just a tiny wee bit."

"It's no less than he deserves. Like you said… the punishment must fit the crime. Overcast believes the world is a horrible and corrupt place. He might be right. But he will be made to serve, and in service, he will labour to make the world better. Through labour, he will make the world the way he wishes for it to be. Better."

"Luna—"

"I shall not lose him to darkness. He is too much like me. I can see that. Clearly."

"Luna, I was going to say that I trust you to do right. There is no need to explain yourself to me. If you honestly believe that a lifetime of service is what is necessary, then by all means, do exactly that." After some hesitation, she continued, "I will probably make an announcement tomorrow with the dawn. With Overcast as a praepostor, I expect some immediate change with the teachers that are left. Word will spread. You will, of course, continue to be the head of the school's disciplinary program, but unofficially, you will also be the head of the school's security. While there is more that I want from you, I fear it will be overwhelming to do too much at once."

Bowing her head slightly, Luna's response was as soft-spoken as it was gracious: "Thank you."

"Now that I know that what is dearest to me is getting sorted out, I can turn my attention to other things. Hopefully, Cadance will get hitched without a hitch. After that, if I am lucky, things will be calm enough for me to get everything organised. I may need your help. We'll play it by ear, Luna. For now, focus on the school… and stay far, far away from Cadance."

"Are you sure that making alicorns is a good idea?" When Luna saw her sister's brows furrow, she took this as a bad sign. A Celestia not confident in her own actions was strange and unknown. Watching for further signs, she dared to press the issue a little more. "They're not like us. Made, not born. There is no way to know the long-term consequences of such an act. It feels reckless, Sister."

More brow furrowing. Deeper wrinkles. A distant rather than focused gaze. Some flaring of the nostrils. All of these were bad signs. What was Celestia's endgame with this? Luna was an immortal being—though this came at a cost. A terrible price. Could it be that Celestia was attempting to stiff the bill? Randomly tinkering with the inner-workings of the universe was very much in theme with Celestia's character, but this felt especially risky. Some things, once broken, could not be fixed.

Both Luna and Celestia were born with unusual talents. Some might even say unique. At least in this era. Way back in the day, a great many unicorns were born with the talent to move the sun and the moon. But doing so drained them. Depleted them of their magic. Aged them prematurely. Celestia and Luna were born as alicorns—alicorns who by some strange and suspicious coincidence just so happened to have the talents for moving the celestial mechanics, the machinery of both the heavens and reality.

But they were not born immortal and with their death, things would go back to how they once were. Things happened. Death was delayed. Immortality could be had—but at a price. Alicorns were now all but extinct, with Celestia and Luna having outlived them. Coming back from her exile and meeting Cadance came as quite a shock for Luna. Hearing the circumstances for Cadance's creation, her ascension from a pegasus to an alicorn even more so.

It was impossible to know what Celestia was planning, but it felt oh so dangerous.

This was the sort of thing one expected for the Element of Magic to do—or former Element of Magic in Celestia's case. Yet, it was entirely unexpected. Rather than worry, Luna chose to focus on what she knew. She thought of Twilight Sparkle and then, either in a flash of insight or an instance of alicorn prognostication, she suspected that she knew Celestia's next move. The first seemed to be showing some serious design flaws and Celestia was already planning the second.

Keeping her thoughts to herself, Luna said nothing.

"I must go," Luna announced. "Overcast must be told of this joyous news, that he is to be rewarded for his actions. It will surely crush his spirits like nothing else will."

Confused, Celestia tilted her head off to one side.

"If you knew him, what I just said would make perfect sense."

"Oh." Then, a second later: "Can you stay a little longer?"

"When I left my little quirky quartet, I told them to go into hiding. All my senses told me something was wrong. They'll need to come out of hiding, and soon. This must be stressful for them."

"Well, by all means. Go to them. Ease their troubled minds. And Sister…"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I hope we bump into each other again soon. Remember, you are trusted, and you are loved."

This time, the words came easy for Luna, who replied, "Thank you, Sister. You also, are loved."

"Go then… to those who need you most."

The Princess of Detention & the Dungeon of Darkness

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Some ponies kept clothes in their wardrobe. Frilly princess dresses, gowns, big poofy outfits that looked an awful lot like curtains stitched together in such a way that they could be draped off of a body in a manner most ridiculous. But not the Princess of the Night, no. Luna kept no clothes in her wardrobe; she kept WAR in her wardrobe, and plenty of it. Enough to spare, enough to go around. Princess Luna had the most terrifying closet space in all of Equestria, and perhaps all of the world.

She had gone to find her friends, but could sense only that they were somehow below her. Which meant that only one thing could be true: their enemies had struck, they were dead, and the quirky quartet were now buried somewhere on the school grounds. Luna would avenge them, but first, she needed the right tool for the job. Something suitable to inspire and sow terror. A weapon to be her herald—and she had just the thing.

Tucked in the wardrobe among the swords, maces, flails, flagellant cat-o'-nine-tails, axes, nunchaku, elastration applicators, sais, pliers, extractors, a collection of dental tools wrapped in a canvas carry-all, pincers, snips, chokers, hoof clamps, dock pressers, ear clips, and one curiously sharp pizza cutter, Luna had just the right tool for the job. There, in the middle of it all, was a chainsaw. Ponies had tried to tell her that it was a gardening tool, but Luna was no fool, no foal born yesterday. Clearly, war had changed during her long absence and mechanical meat mulcher technology had progressed to include such nightmarish implements.

Safety demanded that a chainsaw be wielded while wearing something called a hockey mask, and as luck would have it, Luna just so happened to keep one of those in her wardrobe as well. Not that she needed a mask to be safe, but it couldn't hurt to set a responsible example for the little ponies, all of whom were notoriously unsafe in their day to day practices.

One of her many duties was to craft scary dreams about workplace safety and industrial accidents, because little ponies were careless creatures with fragile, squishy bodies that stood no chance against remorseless mechanisation. Red was a bold, vivid primary colour and did not go well with soft, muted pastels. Why, the outcome could be quite garish as the contrasting colour palettes refused to harmonise with one another. Workplace safety was a requirement not only for reasons of health and well-being, but also for the sake of the artistically sensitive.

Luna was well-prepared for exuberant casual dismemberment.

What are you doing?

The voice came from the space between her ears, on the inside, a place where strangeness lived.

"We are… I am… I do not know what I am doing."

You are about to run amuck through the school with a chainsaw. Why?

It wasn't crazy when one spoke to themselves; rather, madness was choosing to answer. But this… this felt like something else. This was her voice, but it was somewhat unfamiliar. This voice seemed reasonable—dangerously so. It was a voice that wanted to be heard. Hesitating, Luna stared into her wardrobe and tried to make sense of this peculiar entirely nonsensical moment.

"What are you?" she asked.

A bit of dream magic, the spectres of old dead imaginary friends, a wisp of reality, residue of old nightmares, and your chronic fear of loneliness. If you do what you're about to do right now, you will be alone. Again.

A cold prickle danced along the length of Luna's spine.

Unlike the other voices within your mind, I want what is best for you. You go to avenge your friends, but I ask, do they need your revengeance? Think about what was said, Luna.

Pausing, ears twitching, Luna tried to recall anything that might be important. After a few seconds of sweaty contemplation, her mind presented a useful, relevant fact: Overcast mentioned the service tunnels beneath the school. Which would mean… they were underground. No doubt in a secure location where it would be difficult, if not downright impossible for somepony to sense them. Only Luna's alicorn senses could register that they were somewhere below. As everything clicked into place, Luna could not help but wonder what new and helpful madness had overtaken her.

I'll be around, Luna. Do nothing rash. Go and be with your new friends.

"This… you… acknowledging you has made you real, hasn't it?" she asked.

No response; nothing happened between her ears.

Probing her mind, she attempted to touch whatever had been there—but there was nothing to touch. As the seconds passed, even the memory became more and more dreamlike, to such a degree that Luna began to doubt that she'd heard anything at all. Maybe she hadn't actually heard anything. Perhaps this was one of her turns. But this had been a helpful turn and as she stared into her wardrobe, she clearly saw the mistake she was about to make.

Somewhat stunned, Luna closed the wardrobe, took a step back, and then tried to process exactly what had just happened. She couldn't. Confusion settled in and she wondered just what it was that she was thinking, coming here to arm herself. There were times when she could not understand herself, and this was one of them. What motivated her to such rash action?

"I think I'm getting better," she said to herself.

Nothing answered—which left her a bit disappointed.

"I should go find Overcast. He's a clever colt, hiding where it is difficult to use divination to determine his location. So begins the search. Hide and go seek!"

It was dark and cobwebby down here. Which didn't bother Luna in the slightest—she rather liked the atmospheric ambiance of cobwebs—but this would be spooky to most foals and even quite a few adults. The service tunnels, though intended for the staff and the groundskeepers, didn't see much use it seemed. Looking down, Luna could see that the floor was a bit dusty. When she didn't see any tracks, she scowled. She expected to see something, at least, but there was nothing.

She had never been down here. After all, what business did a Princess of Equestria have prowling the pathways intended for the help? To make matters worse, the ceiling was low—too low—and she had to keep her head ducked to prevent her horn from scraping. A fat spider nonchalantly strolled past and she watched as it went off to do its spider errands. Perhaps it was out for a bit of shopping or maybe sought out a somewhat more upscale neighborhood, a place more suitable to raise a brood of spiderlings.

Overcast was somewhere… somewhere below her. How far was unknown. His exact location? Unknown. The way down? Unknown. It occurred to Luna that Overcast's rapscallionry knew no bounds and there was no telling what deviousness he got up to in whatever dark places he secured himself away in. But… down here in the depths, he couldn't listen. He couldn't eavesdrop. So if he came down here, it was obviously to seek out some quiet. A place where the careless words of others could not trouble him.

He was a little dark dweller.

There were no lights down here, but there were enchanted bejeweled sconces that could be lit as one passed. Just a faint touch of magic, any magic, and the sconces would glow for a time. Only a unicorn could navigate these passages with ease; an earth pony or a pegasus would have to bring their own lantern. All of the sconces were dark though—which meant that Overcast did not light them, no doubt so he couldn't be tracked as easily.

She began her way down the hall, took maybe a dozen steps, and then stopped when she came to a five-way intersection. There was a small alcove, something just big enough to turn a cart or a trolley around, and a wooden bench against the wall. A nice little spot to rest one's hooves, down here in the tenebrous depths beneath the school. Of the five options, she could rule out one—the one she'd just traversed. That left four. Try as she might, she could not get a good read on Overcast's location and this frustrated her a great deal.

Just what sort of fool built a maze of passageways beneath a school?

Luna suspected that her sister was that fool.

The fact that Overcast was below her indicated that there were layers to this maze. She would have to find some stairs, or more likely a ramp. A way down would have to be found. Perhaps several ways down, because she had no idea how far down Overcast might be. Why the school needed tunnels down this deep baffled Luna—briefly—but then she thought of invading armies, flights of rampaging dragons, and other such threats. Which made her hate the maze all the more, because now it had purpose.

"Oh, bother and blast!" she swore and the sound of her voice echoed off of the ancient stone blocks.

Turning about, Luna chose the most sinister path, which is to say she went left.

After some time wandering around in the dark, Luna found herself at a lift. She had found herself at several lifts; cogwheel contraptions that were inelegant but suitable for lifting or lowering a cart or trolley. All the other lifts she'd encountered went up to the school above. This lift, the one she stood on at the moment, not only went up, but it also went down. Which meant that she could gain access to whatever was below her in the delightful dungeons below the school.

This lift felt as though it had to be near the center of the school, the very heart of it, and she could sense the oppressive weight and mass above her. At any second, it could crumble—it could give away in a spectacular instant of disaster—and she would be buried alive in the school's endless maze of innards. The real tragedy of course was that the ancient stone would hold. It was unyielding in the way that stone was and the school was in no danger of crumbling any time soon. Life would go on and classes would be called to session with the tolling of a bell.

Down here in the bowels of the school, Luna had found storerooms full of things that made the school what it was. She found Hearth's Warming decorations aplenty. There were gaudy things for Hearts & Hooves Day. All manner of knick-knacks for dances, balls, and galas. Quite by accident, Luna had found a location that she rather liked, and she intended to return when given the chance. Ponies threw away the things that made them happy; they cast them into dark and forgot about them when they were no longer of any use, only to return and find them when they were in need of them once more.

Luna sympathised with all things cast into the dark and forgotten.

Overcast was down here somewhere. One more thing carelessly thrown away and left forgotten amongst the other detritus. That he knew about this place and was familiar with it spoke volumes about him. A little conflicted, or perhaps a whole lot conflicted, Luna stood on the lift and thought about life. Like Overcast, she was down here too, among the temporary things not good enough for permanence. A consolatory melancholy overtook her; it was something warm and familiar, a thing she could not bear to part with because it was comforting in some confusing way that made no sense.

Throwing the lever, Luna resigned herself to the darkness below.

From the lift landing, there was only one passage, which sloped downwards. The walls were irregular and lumpy; no stone blocks, just shaped earth. It was cold down here and so very dark. There were no sconces, no light sources, so the darkness ruled supreme. Luna's horn lit the way, not that she needed it. She could see just fine even down here where no natural light existed.

The fact that Overcast braved these depths said much about his character.

She had no choice but to walk with her head bowed because of the low irregular ceiling. The walls were exactly as wide as the many carts and trolleys found around the school, and not an inch wider. While the incline would be taxing, it was not oppressive nor was it dangerous. Anypony that came down here for whatever reason would be safe enough when moving goods.

What was this place so far beneath the school and why did it exist?

Surely, it had a purpose; Celestia, while somewhat silly, was practical enough. All of this difficult construction required a reason to exist. While Luna was very much enamoured with the idea of a vast, sprawling dungeon beneath the school—she was the Princess of Detention after all—the sheer impracticality of it all suggested it had to be something else. Somewhere in the blackness up ahead Overcast would be found. She could feel him now. He was a king in these stygian pits and she was little more than a guest, or a tourist.

With every step taken, her respect for the little colt grew.

Double doors made of ancient wood blocked her way. These doors were too large, too impractical. The passage leading to them was too small, too narrow. So having such large doors was foolish in the extreme. Yet, the doors existed. More than three times as tall as Luna herself was. A high sloping arch gave them beautiful form. There was an alcove here best left in the dark, because to turn on the light was to know horror. The walls here were elaborately sculpted from floor to ceiling with a countless number of pony skeletons. Skulls winked and grinned in the faint light cast from Luna's horn.

Was this an ossuary?

A crypt?

Catacombs?

A mystery.

Luna could sense Celestia's magic here; she had shaped the stone. The skeletons were her work. Little Miss Sunshine had a thing for the grotesque, the morbid, and the macabre, but she hid it away where few might find it. What the little ponies failed to realise was that Celestia was the Sun. While a dawn might be a new beginning, a setting sun was the end. Celestia was bound to cycles, one of which was life. Which began—and ended. Few knew that Celestia was Death Incarnate.

And for whatever reason, the little ponies were scared of Luna.

Ignorant, foolish little creatures, the lot of them.

How had Overcast ventured past these doors? To come upon this place and to see it in all of its grisly glory; how had he not run off screaming? How had he not died of fright? For that matter, how did the school staff come down here? Surely they came down here. There was a lift and everything. This place served a purpose. But to come out of the narrow passage and to see this place surely was a shock to the senses.

A closer inspection revealed more detail. The skeletons were going through the motions of life. Some were gathered around a small cosy table for tea. Others danced together. One scene depicted a skeletal teacher teaching a group of skeletal foals, pointing to a skeleton drawn on a blackboard. A skeletal mother cradled her skeletal newborn. Near to that one, a skeletal pegasus bowed their head next to a coffin, which contained a skeletal earth pony laid to rest.

Yes, this was most definitely Celestia's work; it bore her signature upon every bony inch.

"Sister, why would you create such a place beneath your school?"

The answer, Luna knew, was beyond the doors, which she moved to open.

Beyond the door was an alcove and in the middle of this entryway was Celestia's skeleton. Luna knew it well. So well, in fact, that she was relieved to see it. These bones were conspicuously absent from the modern era. Gone. Nowhere to be found. Once, a long time ago, this skeletal representation of Celestia could be seen everywhere. A reminder of the end. The Great Harvester. Farmers would leave gifts of grain near the base of these sculptures.

The skeletal alicorn seemed to beckon with her bony wing, as if inviting Luna to come in.

What was this doing down here?

This depiction of Celestia was dead. Which was to say that the depiction of a dead Celestia had fallen out of favour. But for Luna, who stood there staring, this was reassuring. Comforting. It was something from the past that had retreated from the memory of many. Little ponies did not like grim reminders of their inevitable demise no more so than they liked having nightmares. Reaching out with one wing, Luna lovingly brushed some dust from her sister's bony muzzle.

It felt very much like coming home after a long absence. Only this wasn't home. She didn't know what this place was. While some might consider it a place of nightmarish horror, Luna found it a peaceful place of refuge—and so too did Overcast if he came here to seclude himself away from the world. Which meant that he had to be aware of a forgotten aspect of Celestia.

With one final loving touch of the stone bones of her sister, Luna moved past so that she might see what awaited beyond. There were lights up ahead, faint voices, there was life down here in this dark sanctum. She heard laughter as she approached the arch. Laughter seemed out of place, but it was a welcome sound. A warm sound that drove the chill from Luna's ears.

Luna found herself in some sort of library. Or an archive. It was a place that smelt of old paper. This wasn't some musty, damp, mildewy place. It was dry. Cold. A place of storage. Meaningful things were kept here, things with value that rot and decay could not be allowed to touch. What appeared to be endless rows of shelves could be seen and darkness consumed most of them. There was an island of light around a nearby table, and around this table were four foals that Luna was extremely happy to see.

They were no worse for wear, the four of them. There were bottles of soda pop on the table, snacks, bookbags, and what appeared to be some sort of game of some kind. Luna saw a map of some sort, paper dolls, and various types of dice. The four had their horns lit and this light held back the inky nothingness. Luna stared at them and the four stared right back at her.

"Welcome to the Dead Archives," Overcast said with a wave of his foreleg.

"What is this place?" asked Luna.

"School records are kept here," Almanac said before Overcast had a chance to respond. "But not the living. The records of every teacher and student are brought here after death and preserved for prosperity. It's neat! After I die, my permanent record will be brought here and kept in perpetuity. I'll be remembered! All my accomplishments, all of my failures, everything will be kept."

"All my detentions," muttered Overcast.

"Our lives will be noted," Top Notch said, "and these are records of how Princess Celestia's students changed the world. The progress we've brought about. All the good things we do. Stuff we've invented. How we've advanced society. This is all a testament to progress. Overcast seems to know a lot about it. He had a whole speech prepared when we arrived."

"And no matter what anypony tells you, I most certainly did not widdle when I saw the spooky skeleton in the entryway," Almanac said to Luna. "Overcast says that's Princess Celestia. Is that true? Is that really her? Why would Princess Celestia be a skeleton? How come this is the first time I've heard about this?"

Overwhelmed somewhat, Luna did manage to say, "It is."

"I told you so," Overcast said to his friends. "And there is no evidence of widdle. Not at all. Not a drop."

"Yeah"—Almanac bowed her head a bit—"not a drop."

"This place is fantastic," Wednesday said. "But I do worry what will happen if my light fizzles out. I mean, it is dark down here. I'm just a bit terrified that I'll get lost and won't be able to find my way out… which is a bit silly, considering that Overcast comes down here all the time and he's, well, I don't want to say that Overcast is fine, because he's not. He's not fine at all. But he hasn't vanished and become a missing pony. I'm very, very worried though about the lights going out."

"The creaking of your leg braces in the darkness will surely attract the attention of the resident grue—"

"Shut it, Overcast! You promised! No scary stuff! Keep your promise!"

Scolded, and rightfully so, Overcast sighed. "Very well. Sorry, Whinny."

"Grues aren't real," Almanac said to Wednesday. "I've never read a credible mention of them, so they cannot possibly be real. No grues. None."

Saying nothing, Luna wondered what the grues lurking in the dark thought of this information.

She moved closer to the table so that she might have a better look, Curious about whatever it was that the four were doing. A game of some sort. These were mindful foals; while the space was occupied, a huge mess had not been made. Then again, Overcast came here regularly, and he no-doubt cleaned up after himself. She wondered how he occupied himself down here in the dark, cut off from his eavesdropping. Study perhaps. No distractions. He seemed to be that sort.

"What are you doing?" asked Luna.

"We're playing Ogres & Oubliettes!" was Almanac's excited squeak of response.

"Overcast was going to teach us magic," Top Notch said to Luna. "But Alma, she kept all this stuff in her bag. No friends. None. At all. But she kept everything in her bag in the off chance she might make friends and then have somepony to play with. She made a sad face. How could we say no? Felt a bit… heartless, saying no."

"Ogres & Oubliettes?" Standing right next to the table now, Luna looked down at the game.

"She had everything needed for a quick session," Wednesday said. "A mini-manual, a deck full of monster cards, the cardboard figures, dice, and some pre-made character sheets. It wasn't hard to start. At all. I'm playing a bard."

"And I'm a foul-mouthed barbarian… who sometimes has anger issues and hurls poo." The expression on Top Notch's face as he said these words was one of confused guilt. "Being angry is… rather… cathartic."

"I'm an alchemist," Almanac said to Luna and she drummed her front hooves against the table in her excited state. "I think Overcast is playing himself though. Which isn't very sporting. He's an arcanist and—"

"I am an arcanist," Overcast said, interrupting. "In real life."

Smiling sweetly, Almanac leaned over in Overcast's direction and said, "I think I'm a better caster than you."

"Doubtful," he replied, and then he looked away with an expression of irked annoyance.

"Anything you can do, I can do better—"

"No, you can't."

"—I can do anything better than you."

"Stop that at once!" Luna commanded. "You'll start a musical moment. Just stop."

"Aww… I wanted to sing." Folding her thin forelegs over her barrel, Almanac let out a frustrated huff.

"It's like a contagion," Luna remarked whilst she rolled her eyes. "One little pony starts to sing and then all of you do."

There was a hot snort of contempt from Overcast, but not a word was spoken.

Unfolding her legs, Almanac cast a sly sidelong glance in Overcast's direction—and then in an act of direct targeted defiance, she let rip an even louder snort. Amazingly, no boogers were blasted from her hairy little nostrils and little Almanac preserved her feminine dignity. In response, Overcast's head swiveled around so that he could stare at her with his unswollen eye. Then, very deliberately, with painstaking contemptible slowness, he heaved out a derisive snort—something so perfect that it just had to be practiced in a mirror on a daily basis. Which was a thing that young aristocrats were prone to do when seeing their own reflection just after waking up.

When Almanac drew in a deep breath, Luna said, "Don't you dare start singing."

Everything slipped out in a heated huff with Almanac saying, "Aww, why not?"

"Because, Overcast and I have much to discuss. Which means that the rest of you need to go. It's getting late. Things are safe… enough. Though I daresay that school might be a bit strange in the coming days. If school is even kept in session."

"That sounds serious," Almanac said and her words were spoken on the verge of a sing-song voice.

Now, Luna had the dreadful urge to break out into song and it was all Almanac Avocado's fault. She couldn't talk; because the compulsion to sing was there, she had to almost hold her breath and wait for it to pass. It was every bit as awful as it was annoying and she had no desire whatsoever to perform a concert for the grues lurking where the light ended. The way that Overcast stared at her suggested that he knew of her struggle, and she resented him more than a little for being so perceptive. He would suffer; oh yes, he would be made aware of the length, breadth, and depth of misery.

She very much wanted to tell him that in song.

"I don't want this to end," Almanac said to Luna. "This has been the weirdest best day of my life. Well, second best day of my life. It's tied. It's tied with the day I got accepted into this school." Her face saddened. "It all went downhill from there. But I made friends. My glasses got fixed. I found out there is school intrigue. I got to play Ogres & Oubliettes. And Overcast promised that he'd teach me how to be a unicorn."

Luna was so surprised by this that all thoughts of song fled from her. "He did?"

"Yep. He said that I'd be the most unicorniest unicorn that ever farted glitter!"

"Did he now…" As Luna spoke, Overcast squirmed and then found something fascinating to look at in the darkness beyond the light.

"He did." Oblivious to the silent exchange, Almanac's owlish gaze remained fixated upon Luna.

"He'll be made to keep his word. That's a very important part of being a unicorn." After a deep breath, amusement set in and Luna found it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face. Almanac would be fine. She had a rough go of things, but she would recover. But Overcast couldn't be allowed to poison her mind. Something would have to be done about that, and whatever damage was already done would need to be sorted out.

It would be fine though. Wednesday and Topper would get Overcast sorted out soon enough. Wednesday especially, but Topper was a good enough sort. Luna knew she had to play her part, and that was hard because she didn't know how to begin. Having friends helped. Yes, they were young, but they would grow. In an eyeblink, they would grow. In no time at all, they would be adults. Eventually, she would mourn them. Given enough time, Luna would remember them in ways that distant great-grandfoals would not, for such was the way of things.

But for now, they were young—and were good company.

"Over half of your teachers have vanished and are nowhere to be found."

"Say again?" Blinking, the light of his horn flickering somewhat, Top Notch shook his head. "Excuse me, but would you mind repeating that?"

"About half of the teachers have vanished," Luna said. "Overcast, you were somewhat correct. Something is off with the teachers. It wasn't always this way. Discord escaped recently and he's probably to blame. Some type of hex or maybe a curse on the school. An attempt to damage Equestria's future. Or maybe just a petty attack to hurt my sister. All of this will be investigated, of course. My sister, Celestia, said that the teachers grew cold and strange to her over time.

"The guard went to collect Mister Burr, but he was gone. More than that, his home was searched, and the guard found that nopony has lived there for months. The homes of the other teachers are similarly deserted." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "I am trusting you with this information. Please, keep it to yourselves."

"How do that many ponies just vanish? And why would they stop living at home?" Perplexed, Wednesday scowled and shook her head. "Where else would they be living?"

"The most likely answer," Overcast said whilst rubbing his two front hooves together, "is that they are underground somewhere. I mean, if they are anywhere at all. I come down here to hide and to give my mind a rest. If a pony does not wish to be found, dozens of yards of solid rock will hide them. This"—he gestured all around him—"is my sanctum. But probably not for much longer, considering that I've been caught."

Realising that she had a bargaining chip, Luna made a mental note.

"Why does rock do that though?" asked Top Notch.

"Magic requires some kind of connection between the two points," Overcast replied. "It's like how the glass interfered with my teleportation of frogs into the water coolers. The line of sight became impeded. A simple wall can be enough to block some magic, but if you can perceive beyond the wall, then your magic can reach beyond it as well. I suspect that, given enough time, I'll be able to zap something by using my remote listening to get a lock on it. Won't need to see it."

Almanac nodded to show she understood. "Sort of like how you were able to get around that bag over your head. But why though? I mean, why learn all of this?"

"Because"—the colt paused, either for dramatic effect or to collect his thoughts—"we live in dangerous times. Because I don't want to ever get into a fair fight. Because, I crave power and understanding. Because I want to understand the how and why of magic, and not just cast spells. Any fool can cast a spell, but to understand that spell, to know how and why it works… that is why I do what I do. I don't have a talent for magic. I don't even have my mark. So I have to work for every bit of understanding that I have. It doesn't come to me naturally. But… it is what I crave more than anything else."

"You know, Overcast, that might just be the most honest thing you've ever said. Or perhaps it would be better to say the most revealing."

The young colt peered at Wednesday, but did not respond.

"I feel the same way about my trumpet," she said to him. "Sincerely, I do. It started to consume my life there for a time. But I might've just been escaping. I want to understand music. Not just make music, I want to know why it does what it does. Why it makes ponies feel things. Why some notes make a pony feel blue, while a different collection of notes makes them feel happy. I want to understand why music causes feeling and emotion."

"Then you are not stupid," Overcast said in return.

"That's a bit rude, don't you think? I mean, I'm flattered to hear you say that, but I'm also bothered by how you think so little of others."

He shrugged, but had nothing to say.

"I probably should get going," Top Notch said and he cast a regretful glance around him. "It's probably later than I realise, and I don't live here at the school. I must get home, otherwise, my parents will worry."

"Me too." Sighing, Almanac shook her head and then her lower lip protruded.

"Topper…"

"Yes, Princess Luna?" He peered up at her, his eyes bright with the need to please.

"Please, walk Miss Avocado home and see to her safety. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, of course I can, Princess Luna!"

"Now, can you find your way out of here?" asked Luna.

"I have a map," Almanac said to Luna and she flashed a toothy grin.

"Of course you do." A complete lack of surprise showed on Luna's amused face.

"You should show Princess Luna your map." Reaching over, Wednesday prodded Almanac with her hoof. "Show her. Go on."

"Um, I don't want to be boastful."

"Having a superiour talent or skill does not make one boastful."

Throwing an imperious stare across the table, Wednesday glared daggers at the smug little unicorn colt. "Shut it, Overcast."

Moving closer, Luna asked, "May I please see your map?"

In response, little Almanac pulled out a sheet of paper and held it in a glittering dweomer of telekinesis. On the paper was strange markings that Luna did not recognise, but they had a wibble of magic about them. Concentrating, Almanac's tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, and after a few seconds, she touched the sheet of paper to her horn. There was a rustling sound, the crinkle-crackle of paper, and then it came to life.

As Luna stood watching, the markings on the paper shifted, moved, and then jumped off of the page. At first it was as if penciled lines just appeared, but then the spaces between the lines began to fill in with slightly less than real paper. It was semi-transparent, more illusion than anything else, and a three dimensional projection constructed itself. Luna could quite clearly see the passages, the tunnels, the lifts, everything. A three dimensional map was quite a trick, and Luna was impressed by what she saw.

"This is what got me into this school for gifted unicorns," Almanac said, almost whispering these words to Luna. "I'm not better than anypony else. I've just got a way with magic. Princess Celestia said she's never seen anything like it in all of her days. And then I asked her how many days she had and my mother almost fainted. Whoops."

When Almanac pulled the paper away from her horn, the projected image persisted. She smiled down at her creation with wide, proud eyes. She turned it this-a-way, and that-a-way, all so Luna could have a better look at it from every possible angle. It was wondrous magic, rare, unique, and precious. Just like her sister, Luna had never seen anything quite like this, and had no frame of reference for what to call it. Illusionary cartography?

"What's in my head goes onto the paper," Almanac explained without actually explaining much of anything. "Not even Princess Celestia knows how it works. But I'm supposed to figure it out before I graduate."

That was a daunting project and Luna regretted that she did not have the time to discuss it. There was much to do and she very much wanted to speak with Overcast. Alone. As she stood there watching, the magic faded away, becoming a little less real with each passing second, until it was nothing at all. The pencil lines were the last things to fade away and Almanac was left holding a sheet of paper with strange markings on it. Luna realised that she was looking at raw magic glyphs, random occurrences that sometimes happened, such as when magically charged lightning struck a stone and left behind curious markings.

She would have to have a talk with Almanac later.

"Come on," said Luna, and she gestured with both wings. "Clean up. Leave nothing behind. Almanac, when there is time, you and I shall discuss at length your map and perhaps we can all work together to sort out its workings."

"Really? All of us?" Almanac practically beamed. "Like, friends working together to solve a mystery?" Her voice changed, becoming a mock-baritone and her eyebrows furrowed in an evil way. "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you meddlesome foals!"

Rather confused, Wednesday reacted, asking, "What?"

"I read a lot of mystery books," Almanac said. "A whole lotta murder-mystery books."

"And do you learn anything from those?" asked Top Notch. "My mom, she says I should only read books I can learn from."

"I've learnt how to hide a body," Almanac replied.

"Say, that's useful, don't you—"

"Overcast!" both Wednesday and Luna said together in unison.

"Sometimes the talent picks the pony," he said as he crouched into a defensive position. "What do you think a mark for hiding bodies might look like?"

"Something lumpy rolled up in a rug or maybe—"

"Alma… we want to discourage Overcast's villainy."

"Maybe you, Whinny," Almanac replied. "But if he becomes a villain, I'll have a real-life murder-mystery to solve and that'd be absolutely capital."

"Please"—gesturing with her wings once more, Luna tried to redirect the foals' attention to a more pressing issue—"clean up after yourselves."

"Wait." Raising a hoof, Overcast repeated himself. "Wait. If I became a villain… a murdering villain as you're suggesting, you'd hunt me down and bring me to justice?"

Almanac paused, thoughtful, and then she became quite animated. "As foals, they were friends. Companions. Besties. But he turned to evil. And she turned to fudge sundaes which made her bottom big, just as her mother said they would. When he did the unthinkable, she did the only thing that could be done: she hunted down her former friend, who somehow always stayed one step ahead of her. Drama! Intrigue! Sexual tension! Betrayal—"

"Wait, sexual tension?"

"I have no idea what it is, but I've read it sells books," Almanac said to Overcast. "Seems smart to include it."

"Well, if I am going to have a successful turn to villainy, somepony is going to have an accident and fall down some stairs—"

"Overcast!" Wednesday hollered, and this seemed to be her new hobby, considering the passion poured into her outburst.

But Almanac responded well; she turned to Overcast, mouth opened, eyes wide, and she dramatically reacted to his villainous treachery with a melodramatic gasp of surprise. "The young ingénue, caught completely unawares, fell down the stairs but was saved by her plush bottom, which was entirely too big already, big enough to be a target for teasing. Saved by her plump rump, the young ingénue had to learn to love herself. All of herself. Even the parts she wasn't fond of."

Then, before anypony could respond, in a moment of bashful sincerity, Almanac leaned close to Overcast and said, "Thanks for playing along. Nopony really does that. They just think I'm weird. You're very sweet. Thank you."

His face darkened a bit, his ears pinned back, and Overcast replied, "Don't mention it."

"Also"—still she whispered, and her eyes gleamed with a mischievous light—"yes I caa-aa-aan."

"No singing!" Luna snapped. "Just cleaning! Otherwise, we'll be here all night!"

"Aw!" Huffing, Almanac fell over onto her back and then flailing her limbs about, she laid there. "Singing is all I have. It's free and doesn't cost anything. Just… kill me now. Wrap me up in a nice rug, if one can be spared, and dump me into a river someplace."

"What a waste of a perfectly good rug," Overcast remarked.

"I'm very confused right now and I don't know who to scold," Wednesday confessed. As she spoke, she carefully packed up the various paper and cardboard bits of the Ogres & Oubliettes game strewn across the table. "If I didn't know better, I'd say I was having a middle-sister moment."

Feeling bad, and perhaps a little guilty, Luna lifted Almanac from the floor. She righted the filly, got her legs beneath her, and made certain that the foal had her balance before letting go. Almanac was the odd one of this group in more ways than one. Still of single-digit age, while the rest of the group were called 'tweens' in the modern parlance. Not quite teenagers, but neither were they young foals. That awkward place in between. But Almanac had to be the most awkward of all, because it was clear that she didn't quite belong to either age group. She was far too mature for her younger peers, but not quite old enough to fit in elsewhere.

It had to be hard on her.

And that was just the surface stuff. Down deeper, there were other issues, other troubles, other difficulties that contributed and made her life complicated. Being poor in Canterlot was practically a crime, or at least treated as one by the well-to-do. The school had callous social cliques, from the sounds of things, and when Luna turned a critical eye upon Almanac, she could see all of the symptoms of crippling loneliness—including the tremendous effort made to hide it.

"This parting is only temporary, I assure you. Overcast and I have much to discuss about his future. I am sorry that playtime came in such a small portion, and I will do whatever I can to make it up to you. This I promise."

"I'm sorry about saying what I did about beanstalks," Almanac said to Luna. "You're really nice. Really, really nice. Even if you won't let me sing. My parents aren't going to believe me when I tell them about everything that's happened today. They'll think I'm telling stories again." She blinked several times, pawed the ground with her small hooves, and scooted closer to Luna.

"Do you think you could do me a solid and stop by for din-din sometime and make sure my parents know I'm not telling stories? That all of this is not my overactive imagination? That'd be great if you could. But if you can't, I understand."

"We shall schedule a time," Luna replied. "But for now, everything must be cleaned up and we must bid each other farewell."

Barrel hitching, Almanac gasped a few times before she could say, "Why is this so hard?" Just before the first tear could fall, her glasses fogged over from her panting and heavy breathing. "I'm so afraid right now."

Reaching down, Luna placed a wing upon Almanac's neck, and then in silence, she tried to console the distraught filly. For some unknown reason, Luna thought of Twilight Sparkle, and how difficult it was to say goodnight after having such a lovely time together. The fear of everything ending, never to begin again. Stricken in a curious way, Luna felt her emotions threatening to overwhelm her with every sniffle that came from Almanac's twitching, somewhat snotty nose.

"And now I am gonna lose my friends because I'm acting like a baby!"

Quite suddenly, Overcast was there, right beside Luna and Almanac. She hadn't heard him approach; she had completely failed to notice that he'd moved from his spot. He moved with far too much quiet in a manner far too familiar. Then, Wednesday came into focus just behind him, her leg braces creaking and squeaking with her every movement. Just behind Wednesday was Top Notch, and when he bumped into her, there was a clatter of metal from her leg braces.

"Sorry, Whinny."

"Don't worry about it, Topper. I like it when you touch me."

"I meant what I said," Overcast said to Almanac. "I'll teach you unicorn stuff. We all will. In spite of myself, I've learned something from all of this. Not sure what it is just yet, but I'll sort it out with time. I wish that we'd met sooner and under better circumstances. You've found me during a really weird moment in my life."

Sniffling, almost snotting, Almanac asked, "You don't think I'm a crybaby spaz?"

Overcast's response was one of considerable kindness: "No."

"I'm so insecure and thin-skinned." These words came out in something between a whisper and a murmur, and little Almanac closed her eyes whilst she sniffled. "All my emotions get the best of me at the worst moments. It's so embarrassing. I'm such a dork."

A massive snot bubble emerged from Almanac's nose, expanded greatly, and then burst in the way that all bubbles do, leaving behind droplets on her spectacles. She sighed, shook her head, and then squeaked when Overcast pulled her glasses off. In silence, he cleaned them for her, and when he was done, he slipped them back onto her face without stabbing her in the eye, or any other unfortunate mishap that would have ruined the moment.

Then, leaning in so close that his lips almost touched Almanac's ear, he whispered to her, "No, you can't, can't, can't…"

She sobbed; just once—a heart rending sound—and then responded in such a way that could only be described as being earth ponyish in nature: she glomped Overcast in the most savagely gentle manner possible, a high speed collision of exquisite softness. With her forelegs wrapped around his neck, she clung to him, and together, they waited for the storm to pass.

Standing over the pair, Luna watched them. This made what came next easier, though she could not say how or why. Perhaps because there was still enough of Overcast to save. He was misguided—to the point of brokenness, no less—but parts of him had survived the events that had caused him to wither on the vine. She would trim away the dead things and save whatever was left.

In doing so, Luna knew that she would save herself.

The Final Detention

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Luna, the Princess of Detention, looked down at young Overcast beside her and thought to herself, You and me and the darkness makes three. It was the sort of statement that one said aloud within their head and heard quite distinctly within the confines of their own ears. A lifetime of detention awaited the young colt, and he would deserve every second of it. Because Luna loved him, she would ensure he would get every second of correction required—but to do that it would mean getting herself sorted out.

And maybe getting a lot of advice from Twilight Sparkle.

"Almanac told me something and I don't… I don't know what to think of it or how to deal with it," Overcast said to Luna.

"What troubles you, Overcast?"

The colt seemed aware of the shift in Luna's tone.

"While we were getting the game set up, Almanac told us that she has no brothers or sisters. After she was born, her parents decided to stop having foals. They wanted to give her the best possible shot in life and they knew that raising a unicorn would be difficult. Her parents wanted to make sure that she had all of their time, might it be needed. They're earth ponies… and they did all of this without really knowing or understanding much about unicorns. I can't… I just can't imagine earth ponies not having a whole herd of foals, because that's kind of what they do and I don't want to sound tribalist but there is truth to what I said. They gave up everything that makes them earth ponies just so that Almanac might have a chance of being a halfway decent unicorn. I can't wrap my head around it."

"Hmm," Luna hmmed, because it seemed that a good hmm was in order.

"I guess that sometimes, you give up whatever it is that makes you a pony, or at least stand out as a pony, so that you might be a better parent… I'm making a mess of this and the words came out all wrong."

"The fact that you think about such things at all says much about you."

"I can't stop thinking about things and that's my problem," he said to her.

"Well, I am about to give you a surplus of new things to think about," she said to him in return.

"I want to be wrong about them," Overcast said. "But I've seen too much evidence to the contrary. Nothing survives life."

Something was different. Off somehow. This wasn't just base melodrama. There was too much pain in these words. Overcast had been exposed to all of the wrong things at the wrong time and whatever sunny outlook he might have had at one time was now, well, very much his namesake. Overcast. He stepped away from her, tilted his head, and had a look around.

Luna too, allowed herself to take in the spectacle of this place.

"Overcast, if you don't mind me asking, how did you know that was my sister, Celestia, in the entryway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied.

"Try me. Did you break into some repository of knowledge to find out?"

"No, nothing like that." He sighed, shook his head, and sidestepped away. "When I try to tell adults certain things, they don't believe me. Or they don't listen. So there's no point in trying to explain myself."

"Well, you and I, we're going to ignore all of that. I want you to trust me, and I would like to trust you. You know, of course, that I have ways of knowing if you lie to me. So, let us establish ourselves. Tell me, how did you know that was Celestia? That knowledge has passed from this world. I want to believe that it was just a guess, but I don't think that's the case. You're too perceptive for base guesses."

"I just knew," he said. "When I first found my way down here, I just knew. When I saw the statue… I sensed magic in it… when I tried to connect to the magic, because I wanted to know what it was… something happened. I saw the statue, but it had flesh. It was Princess Celestia. There was a jolt… that weird sensation when lightning hits the lightning rod and the air is charged. I felt… something. It gave me a headache. Then all the skeletons on the wall moved. I saw them looking at me. Heads moved. They did, I swear it. I wasn't imagining it. I couldn't move for a while… I don't know how long. Thought I was going to die down here. But then I could move again, and I, well, I don't know how I knew, but I knew for certain I was welcome here. I was allowed to pass. So I did. And I've been coming down here ever since."

"Peculiar."

"Do you believe me?" he asked in a worried way.

"I do," she replied in the most reassuring manner that she could muster. She sensed no deception in his words, no exaggeration. If anything, there was more to it, and he was withholding something. What was unknown. Something had happened. She looked down at him so that she might study him, and wondered what else he had to tell her about this curious incident.

"I know secrets," he whispered. "Things I shouldn't know. They're just… in my head. There's things I know that there are no explanations for. I shouldn't know them."

"Since we're being honest with one another, there is something I want to know."

"And that is?"

"How did you get into advanced matter manipulation classes?"

He did not answer; in fact, he backed away.

"See, that doesn't add up. You're too young. Something is amiss." As he retreated, she followed, and she lowered her head down so that she might look him in the eye. "What are you hiding, Overcast?"

"None of your beeswax!" he said as she advanced.

"Oh, but it is. And we're going to sort things out, Overcast. I have plans for you, but first, we need to clear the air and be rid of any lingering dishonesty. This is your chance to come clean."

"If I tell you, you'll take away everything I've worked so hard for. So, no!"

It was the wrong answer; Luna carefully considered her next move. While she wanted to be Overcast's friend, his mentor, he wasn't being cooperative. Since it was unlikely that he could be intimidated, she would have to find some means of coercion. There was so much to say and this wasn't a great start to everything. She would have to improvise and she wished that she'd planned this better.

"Am I to take that as an admission of guilt?" she asked.

He froze. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and his teeth clicked faintly when his mouth closed for a second time. She saw panic in his eyes, and fear as well. But not fear of her, no. He was not afraid of her, which made things difficult. Fear made ponies submissive and it was useful, on occasion. Now, Luna had a pony that was completely unafraid of her and she didn't know what to do with him.

"Why does it matter?" he asked. "I can do the work and I have a passing grade."

"It matters because you are mine," she said. "I am saving you from yourself. Things change. Starting now. These are the first moments of your reformation. My sister demands that you be made a prefect… a praepostor and you—"

"I'll not be a snitch!"

"That's funny," Luna deadpanned. "You think you have a choice."

"You can't make me—"

"But I can," she said as she loomed large over him. "You have no free agency but what I give you. You are a foal. I am an adult. Beyond that, I am responsible for your care and well-being. I too, know secrets, and I know for certain that you've begun to dabble in the dark arts. You've started down a path from which few return, and those that do, they do not return whole of mind nor body. This ends! Now. You can either choose to cooperate, or you will be made to cooperate. Either way, you will cooperate. The freedom of choice will be returned to you at such a time when you are deserving."

"So you'll just force me to spill my guts?" he asked.

"Would you like a demonstration?"

"Do it," he said to her. "Just do it. I dare you. Do it more than once and I'll figure out how you do it, and I'll do it to others. I'll make you sorry!"

Luna experienced the curious sensation of infuriated adoration for the young colt. He was bold. Fearless. He would make a fine servant—but first he would have to be made to serve. The real trick was doing so without breaking him, because she valued his fiery vim. In this moment, they understood one another. At least, Luna believed this. Overcast had to know he couldn't win, but coming along quietly just wasn't in his nature.

It was the exact reason why the guard had to hammer him down.

"What happened to the little colt that worshiped my shadow?" she asked.

"You got bossy," he replied. "So go get stuffed!"

"I suppose my only recourse is to remove you from your class and—"

"Don't do that!" He backed away, hesitated, and then moved closer. "If I tell the truth, can I stay? I can do the work. I can!"

Saying nothing, offering nothing, Luna waited.

"I cheated my way into the classes," he confessed.

"I am disappointed," she replied. "If only you had made it in on your own merits, I might have been impressed."

"My own merits…" He sucked in a deep breath. "My own merits…" Again, a deep breath and his unswollen eye began twitching as a sort of apoplectic rage overtook him. "Listen here, you big dumb spook! You have no idea what I went through to get into those classes! I belong there!" His shouted words echoed through the archives, no doubt disturbing the lurking grues.

"It took me over a year to get in… I had to break into the school records office and the registry office! Every month they change their security! Multiple layers of security! I had to probe without getting caught and learn all kinds of spellcraft to break in. It took me months just to be able to get through the doors to those offices, and even longer to learn how to forge the records! I couldn't afford to make even a single mistake, because it would mean getting caught! So everything had to be perfect!

"And when I changed my classes, nopony suspected a thing! Because it's impossible to do what I did! Nopony questioned it! No one! Because of the sheer impossibility of doing what I did, my teachers just assumed I belonged in my classes! By my own merits! Because I am gifted! They're so smug and secure with their perfect security system that none of them suspected a thing! I earned my way into my classes! I made my own test!"

She watched as the rage bubbled through him, caused his muscles to twitch, and made his face contort in unpleasant ways. His mane grew damp and a faint sheen of perspiration moistened his brows. When he started to chew his lip, she wanted to make him stop—but she failed to act because she wasn't sure what to do next. A part of her wanted to praise him for being clever, and she hated that part of herself. What he needed was a right good scolding, but she just couldn't bring herself to do that.

Conflicted, torn between her own inner light and darkness, Luna struggled to conclude what was right or wrong.

Not only was she failing herself at this moment, but Overcast as well.

"It was the most difficult thing I've ever done," he said, and this time his words were a hoarse whisper. "I couldn't make mistakes. It would have been the end of my academic career. Every month, the security would change and I would have to start anew. I would only get so far until I encountered something new and unfamiliar to me, and then I would be forced to retreat so I could learn how to deal with it. And this happened over and over and over and over until I thought I would go mad and I almost gave up because it was more trouble than it was worth. But I kept at it… I don't know why I did. It was the only thing that made sense in my life at the time. During all of this, I learned more about magic than I had the entire time I was in school. When I finally defeated the system, I very much felt as though I deserved the reward I gave myself."

At a loss for words, Luna could only stare. If Celestia knew about this, what might she say? What might she do? Little Overcast had schooled himself in the dastardly arts. He wasn't becoming a villain, no… he was a villain. Perhaps Celestia had some inkling of all of this, because she didn't want Overcast expelled. It was infuriating and frustrating, because Celestia never revealed just how much she knew; she maintained a reputation of mystical all-knowingness that benefited her in countless ways.

When Luna flaunted her mystical reputation—she was the Dreamwalker after all—the little ponies all got scared. But when Celestia did her thing, it was celebrated as a central part of her character. Life just wasn't fair, not at all, not even a little, not even in the slightest. Overcast's rage had boiled over like a pot left on the hob for far too long, and now it appeared as though he might start crying. Very much against her will and her better judgment, Luna pitied him and sympathised with his pain.

Which felt dangerous, but she couldn't harden her heart enough to stop.

"The powerful are owed power," the colt said in an almost inaudible whisper. "What is not given to us freely, we will take by force. We have a right to whatever we can take. If the weak cannot defend it, it is ours."

"Do you really believe that, Overcast?"

"With all my heart."

Saddened, Luna knew this lesson would be painful.

"Then it behooves me to show you the folly of your philosophy," she said to him. "You will be made to serve me. You are too weak to resist me. As a being of immense power, I have a right to whatever I can take. You will be made to serve, to bow, to scrape, to grovel, to kneel. To resist me is to know unending sorrow for the rest of your days."

He stared at her without fear.

"Is that what you want, Overcast? An affirmation of your beliefs? Do you wish for me to prove you right?"

The colt was little more than a statue now and he made no effort to respond.

"Serve me willingly, and you will become a trusted servant. In time, you will become my ears, and perhaps my eyes as well. Your gifts will be put to good use. You will improve the school. I will show you how to become the change you wish to see in the world. Refuse me at your own peril, but know this: no matter how you answer, you will be made to serve."

"Am I to be your apprentice?" he asked.

Luna laughed; terrific peals of it came booming out of her and echoed in the surrounding darkness. It was the very essence of mania, of lunacy. She let go without an iota of restraint. Terrible things that lurked beyond the light joined in and mad cackling could be heard from all around. If Overcast was afraid, he showed no sign; he was still a statue.

Wiping tears from her eyes with her wings, Luna shook her head. "You have not earned such privilege. You are not being rewarded, young one, no. You are being preserved. Saved from yourself and your folly. In time, you might earn better standing, but not with cheating. Rewards come with doing right."

"And if I quit school?" he asked.

"That is not a choice available to you," she replied.

"So what if I make it so that you have no choice but to toss me out?"

"You will be made to obey one way or another. To resist is to know futility."

"But… if I agree and cooperate… I'll get something in return."

Still wiping her eyes, Luna did not respond but left the colt wondering about the outcome.

"Surely you must know that if you force me, I'll only grow to hate you. And you… you are sensitive to being hated. You might deny it, but I know for certain that it would hurt you. And if I am made to serve, then I shall spend the rest of my life hurting you. That's not much, but it is some small satisfaction. I will spend the rest of my days reminding you how much you are feared and hated and not trusted. Eventually, my words will get under your skin."

"You assume of course that I will let you keep your tongue."

"You're bluffing. If you tore out my tongue, that would hurt your public standing."

"A silence spell works wonders," she responded.

When Overcast tried to reply, his mouth moved but no words came out. Luna left him this way so that he could come to fully appreciate and have a bit of gratitude for his own voice—but too late, she realised that he might very well figure out how to cast this spell himself. She may well have hoisted herself by her own petard. This was a bridge that would have to be crossed later, and possibly burnt down.

Unable to speak, Overcast stuck out the entire length of his tongue.

"You can't win," she said to him. "Your bargaining posture is highly dubious."

He stared up at her with mute contempt.

"You are young and foolish. It is not my desire to crush you down, but to lift you up, Overcast. But things must change. You must change. You tread upon a dangerous path. There is nothing worthwhile to be found in the darkness, I assure you. I don't want you to hate me. I do not wish to strip you of your will. I want you to grow, to mature, to know love, happiness, warmth, and light. If you bend your knee now and serve me, faithfully and without reservation, in time, you will be rewarded with trust. And perhaps, with faithful service, even a little bit of power. But a choice must be made. Change must happen. Do you wish to answer?"

She relaxed her influence over him and he did not respond. Not right away. What he did do was stare at her with undisguised loathing and contempt. Few had the courage to look at Luna in such a way, and fewer still would survive her savage reciprocation. She showed incredible mercy in allowing this continued insolence, because she knew that Overcast was having a rough day. A hard time. He was having a difficult go at things. But, at some point, her patience would be spent.

"Be my ears. Help me to fix the school. Alert me to problems before they fester. Tell me about students deep in the throes of trouble. Help me make things better. Whatever you have planned, you will only make things worse. If we work together, improvements can be made." Then, in a moment of shrewd intuition, she tried a different approach.

"If not for yourself, then for your new friends. Think of Wednesday and Topper and Almanac. You could help give them the sort of school they deserve. You could—"

"What would I have to do?"

Relieved beyond all measure, Luna let heave a sigh. A bad case of the trembles set in and she was forced to steady herself before she slipped up and revealed her moment of weakness. Clearing her throat, she said, "It starts by being honest. If you have other crimes to confess, we must sort them out. I have to be able to trust you. And you… you must have the desire to do right for right's sake."

"Oh, I have much to confess," he replied. "But I guess you know that. You're cruel to string me along like this. You force me to spill my guts and then you take from me everything I hold dear. What lessons do you wish to teach me by doing this? What am I to take away from this?"

"What lessons—"

"Adults are careless with the lessons they teach," Overcast said, interrupting Luna. "Do as I say, not as I do. There's a lesson I learned early on. I learned that power meant brazenly displaying your hypocrisy without fear. Since coming to this school, I've learned many lessons, though perhaps not the ones the teachers intended to teach. So… what lessons do you have prepared for me? What am I to take away from you into my adulthood?"

"I'm sorry that you've been hurt by the careless adults around you. I really am."

The colt recoiled as if he'd been struck. His mask slipped off and she clearly saw the pain found within his unswollen eye. Not so much a physical pain—though there was plenty of that—but all the mental pain he kept bottled up inside of him. It was clear that he was expecting her to push back, to dominate, but her apology caught him off guard. He became as he truly was; a scared, frightened juvenile lost in a dark wilderness of hurt. When he tried to restore his defenses, he failed. Spectacularly. Overcome, Overcast turned away to hide his face from her.

"If you help me, together, we can hold them accountable. Not for the sake of retribution, but for the betterment of the school. So everypony benefits. It would be so much easier with your help."

"I didn't mean for things to go as far as they did… really, I didn't. Everything just snowballed. I'm sorry. I don't… I don't even know why I'm fighting. It's stupid. I just… I just hate being wrong. I'm worried that everything I have will be taken away. Some things are more painful to lose than others."

"Overcast—"

"You're the Dreamwalker. You might be the only pony that truly understands me. But I'm pushing you away just like I do everypony else. Why do I do that? I can't trust anypony. The moment it feels like there's going to be trouble, I just… self-destruct. I'm sorry."

"Overcast," she said again, "do you want my help?"

"Please… just make the hurting stop if you can. I'll do anything you ask."

A few seconds slipped past…

"Is there anything that you wish to tell me? Anything of importance to confess?"

He turned around and when he did, his expression was one of pained pleading. For a short time, he looked up at her, sighed, and then cast his gaze down to the floor. "I have a cat. We're not supposed to have pets, but lots of the students do. They have mice or gerbils or hamsters or even birds, all of which are a violation of the rules. But I have a cat. Please, please don't take him."

"You have a cat?" she asked.

"I do."

"What is his name?"

"Placebo."

"You have a cat you call Placebo."

"I'm pretty positive that whatever happiness he gives me has to be an illusion. Just a trick of the brain. Chemistry and such being what it is. It can't be real… but I rather like the effect. If you take my cat away, I will never forgive you."

"If I took what made you happy away from you, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself."

Conflicted, uncertain, Overcast didn't seem convinced. "What do you want from me? How do I save my cat? I know I've broken the rules. I've broken a lot of rules. I'll probably break more rules when I think that nopony is watching. I don't want to lose anything I've worked hard for, but I'll give it all up for my cat. He's all I have."

There was no act here, no manipulation. No overblown sense of drama. There was only brutal sincerity. Overcast was willing to give up everything for the sake of his cat. For Luna, this was affirmation of what she already knew, and if a cat is what it took to lure a pony out of the darkness, that was a small price to pay. That he cared about anything at all was a positive sign. It was something for her to work with, but it wasn't a bargaining chip, a conditional reward to be yanked away as punishment. That would be damaging in the extreme.

"As a prefect, certain allowances can be made. I give you my word, you will keep your cat."

"Really?"

"Yes, but you must show more kindness to all animals. No more experimenting on frogs and such."

"But…" He blinked, shook his head, and tried again. "But we dissect frogs. We study them. They're just… frogs."

"The intent is what matters. Why inflict needless suffering?"

"Fine. I can spare a bit of mercy for frogs. For Placebo."

"You really love your cat," she said to him.

He shrugged, then did so for a second time, and offered no response.

"I would like to meet your cat," Luna said. "We should leave this dark place. Take me to your quarters, Overcast. So that I might say hello to Placebo. We still have much to discuss."

"Just… please… please don't take my cat. I hope I can trust you."

The colt's quarters weren't anything like Luna expected. But then again, she didn't know what to expect from Overcast. He kept surprising her at every turn. Everything was clean enough, but somewhat cluttered. Upon entering, the first thing that she noticed was that Overcast was a philatelist; there were dozens of books about the subject on the shelf, as well as small glass and wood cases filled with stamps. There appeared to be an interest in zeppelin stamps in particular, and a focus upon airmail.

His quarters were not smelly, as one might expect of a young colt left to his own devices. The bed was made, though not made well. Perhaps Placebo mussed the covers. But the cat was not on the bed, no. At the moment, the polydactyl, polycaudal beast sat upon Overcast's back, and they greeted one another with warm affection. Of course the colt had a mutant cat fit for a circus sideshow. Placebo's congested purring was really rather loud and filled the room with a comforting sound.

There were curious things to be found here. A collection of pickled punks sat upon the back edge of the desk, with everything from breezies to parasprites. Small things. Nothing too horrific, but it was still an odd collection. There were books about magic, both practical casting and theory. A potions textbook lay open on the desk, and there was an assignment tucked beneath it.

Though, the strangest thing of all was found when Luna turned about to examine the other side of the room. There, on the workbench, was a lump of hairy clay. It wasn't clay with hair stuck into it, no. It was clay that was clearly growing hair and it put off a peculiar, somewhat unwholesome magic signature. This was unnatural in the extreme, a reckless bit of experimentation. The clay was dried out, a bit cracked in places, and Luna could sense that it was dying. Slowly. Though she could not sense if it was in pain.

"Overcast…"

"Yes?"

"You have… hairy clay."

His face flushed and turned dark. "I was trying to invent velvet pottery. I got the clay to grow hair, but it was too long and not fuzzy. When put into the kiln, the clay died and the hair started to fall out. I don't have a clue what went wrong. Been meaning to get it sorted out, but I've been a bit distracted lately."

"But… Overcast… why would the world need velvet pottery?"

"You ask me that, but I ask you, why wouldn't the world need velvet pottery?"

Turning herself about, she focused all of her attention upon Placebo, and tried to ignore the dying lump of hairy clay now behind her. The sooty grey cat appeared healthy, showed no signs of being experimented upon, and clearly loved Overcast. She counted at least three tails, two that were long, and a short stubby one. There might have been more, but she couldn't see them. Lots of toes. Too many toes.

Try as she might, she could not focus on the cat, not with the grotesque experiment behind her. As delicately as possible, she asked, "Overcast, dear, what on earth would possess you to make clay grow hair? Honestly now, what were you thinking? I mean, such demented imagination… while I do admire your creativity, I cannot imagine any sort of practical purpose."

He shrugged; it was infuriating, but Luna held herself in check.

There had to be a purpose; perhaps he was hiding it from her just to be contrary.

"The real trouble with hairy pottery is that when you bake it in the kiln, there is the terrible stench of burning hair. I envisioned fuzzy flower pots and such when I first conceived of the idea. Perhaps the fuzz could change colour when the plant was in need of watering and the soil was too dry. A dense coat of fuzz might help a teacup stay hot longer." He tilted his head off to one side and looked up at Luna. "If you stop to think about why you shouldn't do something, you'll never get anything done. Just go where your ideas take you."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you have the demented vagary of a crackpot."

The colt scowled for a moment, his ears twitched, his nostrils flared, and then he snorted. "That's not funny. You leave my pottery skills out of this."

"Are you calm?" she asked.

"I have my cat," he replied.

"That will have to do," she said to him. "We're not finished. There is still much to sort out. Hopefully we can finish without any unpleasantness."

"I always feel better with Placebo. At least I think I do. The effect is uncertain."

"Dare I even ask how you found your cat? Was he a stray?"

"Are you asking me to confess yet another of my crimes?"

"How many crimes have you committed?"

"I refuse to answer that without assurances that I will be spared."

"And you've already failed the first lesson, Overcast. You must learn to trust me. As difficult as that is, more so now with our rough start, you must give me answers when I ask questions."

"What am I to expect in return?"

"That's not how this works. As I have said, I am an adult. You are a foal. Like it or not, you will do as you are told. When I ask a question, you will answer me. A straight answer. An honest answer. That is the cost of my tutelage."

"Tutelage?"

"You'd make for a poor servant in your current state. First, you must be groomed for the position. You will be taught charm. Charisma. You will learn to make friends and to gain the trust of others. If you are to be my representative, all of your rough edges must be smoothed over."

"I see."

"Not yet you do not. But you will. Now tell me… how did you acquire your cat?"

He shuffled on his hooves, his tail swished behind him, and he furtively averted his gaze so that he might look elsewhere. "There was an alchemist's shop. I heard him yowling inside. The lock on the door wasn't a very good one, and the alarm wasn't much to mention. When I found Placebo, he was sick. I liberated him and nursed him back to health."

Luna was about to say something that might have been a bit harsh, but then she thought about how she'd broken into Twilight's home. She suspected that there was more to this that Overcast wasn't telling her. Or maybe there wasn't. Perhaps it really was this straight forward. Given his natural propensity for crime, this was just how the colt approached a problem. It would have to be corrected—or harnessed for the greater good.

Her mind felt sharper than it had in a long time. She had a curious sense of focus now. A purpose. Was this why Celestia took on students? Perhaps there was something in common with her sister, and if so, Luna was glad for it. Overcast had turned his attention to his cat and was clucking his tongue at the sleepy-but-contented creature. The small colt could be sensitive to the needs of others, which made him stand out. Though, perhaps not in a good way before his peers.

Sighing, Luna knew that she had her work cut out for her.

She too had started down a dark path because of a desire to do good.

Charon made no change when he accepted good intentions in exchange for a boat ride to Tartarus. All sales were final. No returns. The river was swift and wide, but the crossing was shockingly quick. For as bad as the situation was, it wasn't as awful as she had first thought. Overcast had redeeming qualities. He could show considerable kindness to others, but only to those he felt were deserving. Which was a problem. Luna had that same problem, though she dared not admit it. To help Overcast, she would have to first help herself. Get herself sorted out.

"So if I'm not your student, who will teach me? My teachers? The ones who've gone missing?"

This unexpected question caught Luna off guard, but she was quick to recover.

"Tutors, of course. Quite possibly the same tutors my sister uses to educate the students she takes an interest in. Are you warming up to all of this, Overcast?"

"Don't know yet. I don't like being forced into all of this."

"Do better. Options and choice will be restored to you. Cease your felonious hobbies."

"Look, I'm not dumb. You want me around because of my felonious hobbies."

Upon hearing this, Luna's expression turned deadpan.

"Just saying. If I don't keep those skills in practice, they'll grow rusty. And then what'll you do?" He glanced at the purring feline on his back for a second, and then squinted up at Luna. "We have to be honest with each other, right?"

"The essential arts of—ahem—spycraft—ahem—will be taught to you in a safe, protected environment that poses no risk of harm to others," Luna said with great care, choosing each word with considerable caution. "It seems there is no dancing around this issue. No being shy about what you're called to do. But you must be discrete. Polite. These are things that should not be discussed. Not even with your friends. Which reminds me… there is a matter that I must bring to your attention."

The colt appeared to listen.

"I want you to be friends with Almanac. Special friends. Without realising it, you've done her great harm. That must be addressed. You will help her trust in her teachers and the authority figures in her life. Become a fine example for her. While I would never take your cat away—I can clearly see that you need him and that he is a stabilising presence in your life—I do expect for you to give something in return other than just your base cooperation. Do we understand each other?"

There was a soft sigh from Overcast, and after a moment spent in thought, he nodded.

"Anything to say about this? I will listen to whatever concerns you might voice."

"It's just… I don't trust my teachers. At all. Not sure how I'm supposed to help her. A part of me thinks I'll just make things worse no matter what I do."

"Then you will learn to trust together. Help will be had."

"I really am sorry for how I acted. I don't know what came over me. I just felt… threatened."

Luna nodded in a knowing way. "You have trouble feeling threatened."

"Look at me," he whispered. "I'm practically pink. Just look at me. I have no athletic skill to speak of. There's nothing about me that stands out… or, at least, that is how it was before I learned how to be strong. I was good enough to get into this school, but being a gifted unicorn in Canterlot is just sort of expected. I was teased. Picked on. Put down. I went from being barely adequate to what I am now. And to lose all of that…" He shook his head.

These words weighed heavily upon Luna's heart. She knew the feeling. To be inadequate. But in her case, it was in contrast to one that shone so brightly. Overcast had cured himself of his mediocrity, but had gone too far. Now it consumed him—in very much the way that Luna's own ambition had once devoured her. There was a lot to sort out here, for both Overcast and herself.

"Advanced matter manipulation and classes like that… the grading is simplified." The colt tensed. "In some ways, it makes things better, but also worse. You don't have to worry about percentages, or extra credits, or fighting to keep your grades above a certain point. You just have to pass. I am the youngest in my classes. Most of my classmates are twice my age. They're more mature. Nicer. They don't tease as much, if at all.

"Many of them fail. It's just a thing that happens. But we know the cost of failure and we help each other. It's different from my other classes. Better. I crave it. Something we all learned early on was that we have strength in numbers. The more of us there are, the better our odds at overcoming a problem. Each of us approaches a problem in a different way. So we band together to make sure we all pass. For each of us that fails, and when our numbers dwindle, we lose some of our shared knowledge. I know I cheated. I know what I did. But I belong there. My classmates depend on me and I depend on them. I don't think that we're friends, but there is something… I don't know what it is. I just know that it is important."

"So to fail once…"

"Means getting tossed out of the class. And when we lose somepony, we all grieve. I think it's grief. I don't actually know. But it feels like very real loss and we all struggle to deal with it. I hate it. Hate it. I hate it more than anything and it eats at me."

"You are being open with me. I appreciate that. Thank you."

"You're the Dreamwalker. I… you… well, I—" The colt failed to finish his sentence and his stammering turned to muffled heavy breathing.

"And you admire that. Beyond that, you sympathise with that, and you are one of the few that can truly commiserate with the troubles and hardships I face. You find yourself in a confusing and conflicting position, Overcast. You resent the authority figures in your life because you feel slighted and betrayed. But you still feel a sense of worshipful reverence for me. It must feel like you're being torn in two."

In the moment of silence that followed, Luna knew that they had reached an understanding. Something changed in Overcast's demeanour; something brightened in some vague almost imperceptible way. She had established a door, perhaps. In a metaphorical sense, doors could be slammed shut, or left open. Either way, they remained doors, and as such, they allowed access. In this, Luna saw promise. While things would not be easy, and Overcast would no doubt raise many walls, there was a door. An understanding that opened both ways. All it took was a knock to remind the other that the door existed.

Doors were also a fantastic means to move about in dreams.

"So why can't I experiment with frogs?" asked Overcast. "I mean, that's what they're there for. I'm not being defiant. I'm just trying to understand."

Luna took a deep breath and then replied, "As I have stated, intent matters. You have dabbled into darkness. Cruel experimentation will only further worsen your condition. Compassion is the cure."

"Sort of like how I found Placebo. I think the alchemist I stole him from was using him to see if potions were safe. Or something. So… I guess frogs shouldn't suffer needlessly just so I can perfect my spellcraft. I'd never really thought about it before. Of course, now I am wondering why we use frogs at all."

Having no good answer, Luna did not know how to respond.

"So… what comes next? I assume there are more conditions. What must I do?"

He was taking this rather well, now that he had come around. Which gave Luna confidence to do what she knew must be done. There were of course other things, little things, trivial things that she had fully intended to discuss, but now seemed like a good time to get right to the heart of the matter. Overcast's mood might survive it—or it could destroy him completely.

She feared the latter might be the outcome.

"You have a great many stamps," she said as she allowed herself a look around his room. "Upon my return, I found the post office a most curious institution."

He was taken completely off guard by this but was quick to recover himself. "I, uh, well, um, yes, stamps are fascinating, but only, uh, well, uh, stamps are fascinating because of, um, well, because of what they represent."

Luna asked the question that Overcast clearly wanted her to ask. "And what is it that stamps represent?"

"We assign value to scraps of paper," he replied with a bit more of his usual poise and grace. "Just sticky bits of paper. With glue. But the paper represents a monetary value. A scrap of paper that is assigned an arbitrary value, an exchange of goods and services. But it is so much more than that. With a scrap of paper, we compel a public servant to carry a letter from one place to another… but that letter can be ideas. Inspiration. The letter itself has value. At least, it can. But… this whole exchange, including an arduous cross-country trek for some letters, we assign it the value of just a few bits. Nothing more. With a scrap of paper, we can set a complex series of events into motion with significant outcome at the other end."

Eyes narrowing, Luna studied the now squirming colt, who clearly had more to say.

"I find the whole system quite exploitive," he continued. "We depend upon the pegasus ponies as our messengers. Because they can fly. Yet those same pegasus ponies have trouble using the stamps we unicorns invented to send letters. Earth ponies too. They have trouble tearing a stamp off of a sheet, licking the back of it, and then affixing it to a letter. For us unicorns, we barely even exert any effort at all. It's the milk carton problem, but worse."

He stumbled backwards, unceremoniously dumped poor Placebo onto the bed, and then sat down himself. "As problematic as they are, and as much trouble they cause my mind, I cannot stop collecting them. They are tiny portraits. Art. On a teeny-tiny scale. I love the details to be found beneath a magnifying glass. Some stamps have hidden pictures made from tiny dots that can't be seen under normal circumstances."

"You are very sensitive about things." This wasn't a question, but a statement. Luna, though stating the obvious, felt it needed to be said. "Saying these things around your peers, revealing how you think and how you feel, it got you teased. It set you apart. You were made to feel different. Excluded. As if there was something wrong with you because of how you saw the world."

Silent, Overcast sent his gaze straight down to the floor and did not respond.

"You were mocked and ridiculed. Belittled. Made to feel ashamed for merely thinking."

Reaching out, Overcast scooped up Placebo, and held him—but offered no response.

"So now, you seek out the details of others. To know their secrets. You listen. You observe. And you no-doubt humiliate them and mock them when given a chance so that they might share your pain."

Saying nothing, Overcast offered no denial.

"I was once like you… and I suppose in some ways, I still am," Luna confessed.

She moved closer, reached out with her wing, and with great tenderness, she touched his bruised cheek. "There's a better way. I'll show you. I'm bound to make mistakes, because I'm still learning to navigate this new path. The best revenge is a life well-lived. Will you work with me? Please, do not feel threatened. My goal is not to take away, but to give. I know this must be scary. The unknown is always scary. But whatever awaits you in the dark is worse, I assure you. The power that you crave is but bait in a trap. It might seem attainable… but what you lose for what you gain… please, please do not make the mistakes that I have."

She cleared her throat and found her own heart racing.

"We start tonight. This very even. It is time to rip off the scab and drain out the poison."

"What must I do?" he asked.

"You must reconcile with your parents."

"I can't." The response came out with a slight hitching.

"You can. And you will."

"No," he replied, "I can't. What you're asking is impossible."

"You are wrong, Overcast, and you—"

"No, you're wrong!" he shouted. "It's too complicated! Too impossible! My mother tried to come and talk to me. She came to the school. She just wouldn't stop! I had her removed from the visitor list and she was barred from the school grounds. I can't fix things now. It would mean explaining why I did everything I did and all the things she did and all the things my dad did, and I can't deal with those things! It's too much at once! Every time I think about trying to fix it, I just end up overwhelmed and depressed and it makes me not want to live."

"But you have thought about fixing it," she said to him.

He began to sniffle and clung tightly to his cat. "When you put your wing around me, it made me want my mom. It made me remember her. It made things difficult for me. A part of me hated you for doing it. I was angry with you for making me remember and it all came bubbling out earlier. It's why I was so cross. I'm sorry. Please, don't make me do this. I can't."

"A clearer picture emerges," Luna said to the troubled colt. "No doubt, after the relentless mockery of your peers and fellow classmates, you've been made ashamed of wanting your mother. Your refuge beneath her wing. A place of solace and comfort for you. A place where—"

"Will you just shut up!" he shouted.

Much to Luna's surprise, her response was not one of anger, but of pity. Without meaning to do so, she had injured him. She had carelessly tweaked the festering wound. What arose from within her depths was guilt—but not the crippling sort of guilt that overwhelmed her. This was something else, something unknown. Something almost welcomed. There was a warmth to it that spread through her mind and ignited hope within her thoughts.

"I'm sorry," he said, apologising.

"I am as well," she was quick to say. "Honestly. Truly. The pain of this wound must be unbearable."

"It eats at me," he wheezed, and from the choked sound of his voice, it was obvious that he struggled to hold back his sobs.

"Anger and hatred make the ache go away… or at least be not as noticeable. It dulls the pain. Like ice on a bruise."

When he nodded, she was terrified. Cold dread settled through her muscles and knotted her guts. Not only did Luna fear this old pain, she feared the memory of this pain, and it promised a return. But she was not overwhelmed. Black despair found no purchase. She was so concerned with the agony of another that she stayed out of reach of her own self-inflicted torment.

"I will help you, I promise. But you have to trust me. I will help you make things better. Just give me your trust, Overcast. We can do this together."

"I can't."

"I am aware of how impossible this feels. And it might very well be impossible for you to deal with. You may not be able to face this alone. But, you are not alone. I will be with you."

"How do I even start?" he whimpered. A wordless whine slipped out, followed by a low moan of anguish. "Why must it take so long for love to die? Why must it ache? I just wanted everything to go dead and it just wouldn't. Things kept happening… like you putting your wing around me. It hurts so much. I can't take this anymore."

"When Almanac hugged you today, you thought of your mother."

He did not respond. Instead, he pressed his face against his cat, and hid himself. As for Luna, she stood there bearing witness to all of this. Overcast was a wreck, a ship smashed upon the rocks. While she couldn't stop the collision, she could save him from drowning. She would aid in his recovery. Poor Placebo, now soaked with tears, meowed in protest but made no effort to escape.

"And this… this is your attraction to the archives. Things committed to memory, but still forgotten. A record of things that once were, but are no longer. You sought to forget in a place intended for remembrance."

"It made me feel better to know that they were all somehow remembered even if they weren't around." His words were muffled because of Placebo, but still clear enough to be understood. "Will you really help me?"

"Do you doubt that I will?" she asked.

"I just don't see how you can help me," he replied. When he pulled his face away from his cat, he was a mess of tears and cat hair. "If you give me my mother back, I will be your slave. Anything you ask of me, I'll give you. My life is yours. All of it. I don't think I can be trusted with it. Just… just look at the mess I've made of things. If you can fix this and make the pain go away, I will give you all of me."

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Right now?" Cringing, the colt seemed to shrink in size.

"There's no point in delaying. It will be a long walk home for you. Longer than you know. It begins by turning around, facing the light, and walking out of the darkness. That… that is a long walk. I know from experience. Tonight, you will experience endless distance. And I shall walk beside you every terrible step of the way."

"I don't know if I can. I think I need some time so I can—"

"There is no time," she deadpanned. "With every second that passes, this will only grow more difficult. Trust me, I know."

Slowly, his expression pained, Overcast put his cat down upon the bed. He touched Placebo once, stroked him, almost as if he were apologising for the mess. The cat immediately flopped over onto a pillow, kicked out his legs, and flexed his abundance of toes. There were just far too many toes for one cat. Placebo had a surplus of toes for several.

"What if she doesn't want to talk to me?" he asked.

"I am not one to be refused." Luna's dull deadpan persisted; she was far too emotional but she was needed.

Yes, she was needed, and that was good.

"A bargain has been struck, Overcast. You have offered me your life, and I intend to keep it. In return, I will give you a life. One of promise. Of goodness. Of everything that you prove worthy of. In exchange for your fealty, you will be given a life of servitude. With time, with trust, you might even be given a bit of power, once you have shown that you are worthy of it. Everything your heart desires begins with a long walk. First I return to you your mother and father. Other things of value will be given to you later. Treasures beyond comprehension await you. Will you follow me?"

Bowing his head, the colt offered up a weak, feeble nod. "I will."

"Do you know what faith is, Overcast?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head from side to side. "I've never given it much thought."

"Faith is allowing your hooves to take you where your heart would choose not to go. What you are doing right now, this is an act of faith. Faith is courage. But no matter what other ponies might say, faith does not have to be blind. Tonight, your eyes will be forcibly opened, and the light will be blinding. There will be pain. Your legs may fail you. All manner of metaphorical events might happen. But you will endure because I will be there with you. If you cannot see, then I shall be your eyes. If you legs fail you, I will carry you. Should the darkness reach for you, it will be reminded that I am its mistress and that you belong to me. Your faith will be rewarded. Do not let your heart be troubled."

Not a word was spoken in response; there was just a nod.

"Tonight, I give a mother back her son," she said in a low whisper. Then, unspoken, she added, Tonight I will be the pony my sister believes me to be.

It would be a long night; perhaps longer than anypony could anticipate. But the sun would rise. The gift of gold would restore hope to the world. Life would show its appreciation with a recompense of green. For Luna, this would be a night where the ending would be of greater importance than its beginning. The sun was already retreating, she could feel it.

This was the time for the moon to shine, and so too would Luna.

Lunatic Fringe

by kudzuhaiku

Overcast

Wednesday Waterkey

Top Notch

Twilight Sparkle & Spike

Almanac Avocado

Annulus

The Princess of Detention & the Dungeon of Darkness

The Final Detention