> Unfinished
>  by redsquirrel456
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Tenebrous
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He saw her again, in the time just between sleeping and waking.

She was just like before. Vaporous, distant, and completely unaware of his existence. Yet he was painfully, achingly aware of hers. How couldn’t he be? She was everything he wasn’t. Graceful, beautiful, and real. She stood there, consuming his vision, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away and look at the hooves under his own head. He didn’t even know if he was actually there. He didn’t feel his own body, his own lungs filling with air. He only saw her, and she never once noticed him. Like all the other times, she never quite turned to face him, no matter how much he called to her. Every time, she would turn just enough that he saw the profile of her perfect face, and her eyes would focus on a point just far enough to the right that if she turned just a bit more...

If she just heard how loudly he cried out a name he didn’t know.

She’d finally turn and notice him.

He’d finally be able to tell her how perfect she was.

He’d know that somepony could really see him.

He had to find her.

/-/-/-/

Dusk Shine’s eyes shot open. They saw nothing but the ceiling, as usual. She was gone, like always, and he woke up breathing heavily and feeling utterly confused. Like all the other times, he couldn’t remember a single detail about her save that he couldn’t forget that he’d seen her. Desperate to move and convince himself he was awake, his eyes whipped to the right, looking for his alarm clock in the half-light peeking through his curtains.

A whole forty-five minutes before it was supposed to ring. He groaned and dragged his hooves over his eyes, turning over in his bed, but it was uncomfortably damp with sweat. He tossed the blankets away with a yank of magic and did his best to calm down, thankful that Spines’ gentle breathing was the only sound beside that of the birds chirping. Though it had been two weeks since the dreams started, she still knew nothing about it, partly because if Spines ever got wind that he’d been dreaming about a filly and waking up in a hot sweat about it she’d never let him live it down!

Of course, it wasn’t like he could explain it in a meaningful sense. How could he be having dreams about a pony he was certain he’d never met? You couldn’t be obsessed with a filly when you didn’t even know her face! Every night, the dream had come and fled with the same alacrity as it arrived. He reached out, groping blindly around his bedside desk with his hoof until he grabbed his notepad and wrote down all he could remember.

I saw her again. She didn’t turn around.

That was all he ever knew for certain. Every other entry was similarly lacking in details. No other clues, no other hints. The sight of incomplete data, of a total lack of evidence to build a proper hypothesis on, worried him more than anything. If he couldn’t quantify it, how could he understand it? This wasn’t Bubble Berry’s Bubble Sense. It was something far more intimate and disturbing than that. 

Maybe he was just fooling himself. Maybe this was some kind of subconscious longing for a fillyfriend showing itself at the surface. Some of his books had pointed to that conclusion. But that didn’t explain why the feelings were so fierce, or why the dreams happened every night in the exact same way. Why he woke up feeling like he’d lost something without even getting it in the first place. Why he just knew that the mare he saw was just perfect.

But what did that mean? Beautiful though she may be, he didn’t feel attracted to her.

Well, maybe just a little bit.

But he felt he needed to see her, speak to her all the same. To look at her. To know her. It felt like some hole had opened up inside of him, one that only she could fill.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispered to his pillow. Was this normal? His books hadn’t given him an answer. He’d consulted all of them, even the ones that weren’t necessarily tailored to his age group. Even though Dr. Montyhoof’s prose was excellent, his stab at self-help: It’s Okay To Like Fillies! made Dusk feel more awkward than the day he’d walked in on his sister and Prince Crescendo making out in a side hall. So far, it held the record as the only book in the library he actively refused to read more than halfway.

He poked his head over the side of his bed and looked underneath to find Smarty Pants waiting for him. He plucked up his faithful doll and held him close against his chest.

“At least you understand,” he whispered. Smarty Pants always understood. He was always there with his comforting silence.

“I just really, really wish I knew what to do about this! It’s been three weeks now. Three weeks... I... should I write to Solaris? Should I tell my friends? I don’t even know if I’m just going crazy or what! There’s no reliable data, Smarty Pants! No reliable data! Do you have any idea how scary that is?! Especially given all the variables here, I haven’t even nailed down if it’s supposed to be a very lucid dream or some kind of apocalyptic vision like I got from next Tuesday... Why did it have to be a filly, Smarty Pants? And in my dreams, for crying out loud!”

Smarty Pants stared at him with his little nonjudgmental button eyes.

Dusk Shine nodded.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m overreacting; I’ve done that way too many times. How often have I just totally flipped out about something and it ended up being completely unimportant?”

Dusk Shine flicked his hooves, making Smarty Pants shrug.

“Well, yeah, I was vindicated that one time when the changelings attacked... but this is different. Nothing bad has happened. Yet. I need to keep looking. Keep searching. Keep...”

Dusk Shine petered out and released Smarty Pants. The little doll fell over, pointing at the doorway.

“You’re right. I need to get up. Get my thoughts in order. Thanks for the advice, Smarty Pants. I know I can always count on you.”
 
He pushed the doll back under his bed and tip-hoofed to the door, leaving Spines to snore in her litter. The alarm would wake her anyway, and she enjoyed having every minute of sleep she could get. After a quick and quiet wash-up he stepped outside, enjoying the crisp, cool air of a newborn dawn. The times between the coming and going of the moon and sun always called to him, giving him a bit more spring in his step when most ponies were dragging their hooves, either from just waking up or preparing for bed after a long day. Thank Solaris for little magical connections like that.
 
He needed a long walk and a friendly ear, and there was only one pony who could give both of those at this time of day.
 
/=/
 
“Applejack, have you been having any weird dreams lately?”
 
“No weirder than any ol’ dream can be. Why?”
 
Dusk Shine turned in step with Applejack at the end of the field, levitating the plough out of the dirt. There was a satisfying crunch as he stabbed it back into the earth to drag it down another row. The farmpony next to him took the turn without even pausing, powerful muscles guiding his plough through packed soil with the ease of a Sunday stroll.
 
“Nothing off about them? Nothing repetitive?”
 
“Not as such. Ah had one about turnips not too long ago. Talkin’ turnips claimin’ they were in love with me. Then Ah had a similar one about cherries! Grampy Smith said it was a bunch a’ hooey an’ maybe a zebra hexed me ta’ try an’ sabotage the farm.”
 
Dusk Shine sighed, eyes on the ground. His magic kept his plough perfectly straight as he walked unfettered.
 
“Nothing about ponies? Maybe something about ponies you used to know?”
 
“Nope. Why?”
 
“Just… just wondering.”
 
“Dusk, you’re hoppin’ around the issue like Angela Bunny when she scarfed Bubble’s sugar stash! Ya’ll gonna say what this is about?”
 
Dusk looked up at the sky to avoid Applejack’s critical stare. The partly cloud sky was now bright and blue as Solaris’ sun had risen over Canterlot’s mountains. Before he knew it, more than half the field’s distance had been covered in complete silence, and he felt shameful, like he was wasting Applejack’s time.
 
“I’ve been kind of distracted.”
 
“Darn tootin’. You’ve been lookin’ everywhere ‘cept at me this whole time.”
 
“I’m sorry, Applejack. I just haven’t been getting a lot of sleep. Not good sleep, at least.”
 
“’Cause of repetitive dreams about ponies you used ta’ know?”
 
Dusk smirked.
 
“That transparent, huh?”
 
Applejack’s face was still solemn, searching. “Like a freshly melted pool in spring. Ya’ll know you can talk ta’ me about anything, right? Tell me about it.”
 
“Yeah. Yeah, I dunno. I really don’t, AJ. It’s weird. I can’t remember anything about it, but I keep having it. I just know that I don’t know anything about what I just saw.”
 
“What did you see?”
 
Here was the moment of truth. Dusk Shine felt a jolt of realization that he’d come to the Element of Honesty to ask him to keep a secret. At least he’d be certain of its safety with Bubble Berry if he pried a Bubble promise out of him! But Applejack was always steady and dependable, a rock of quiet confidence amidst the neurotic phobias and hyperactive tendencies of his other friends. He really could talk to Applejack about everything.

In spite of that he felt Applejack’s stare instinctively searching for falsehood in the way he bit his lip and darted his eyes left and right, searching for the right words in the back of his mind.
 
“Ahh, well, hmm… that’s the thing, AJ. I, I kind of, um. See a… a fff…”
 
“A fff…?”
 
“F… fi…”
 
“Fi…sh? Finch? Fibs?”
 
Dusk Shine mumbled incoherently.
 
“Land sakes, Dusk! Filly! The word’s filly!”
 
Dusk’s head shot up, feeling indignant that Applejack had so brusquely thrust the issue to light.
 
“A.J.! Not so loud, geez!”
 
Applejack gave an indifferent shrug and kept his eyes forward, the very picture of no-nonsense. “Well, shoot, Dusk! You were makin’ it obvious the way your cheeks were burnin’ an your gums were flappin’. Ah’m one ta’ face a problem head-on, ‘specially if it’s fillies. Now, who is it? Gentle Hue? Meadowlark?” He raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t my cousin Braeburn, were it? Ah know you an’ her have exchanged pleasantries, but she’s a wild one, Dusk, Ah wouldn’t touch that if Ah were you!”
 
Dusk tripped over his hooves, mind racing. He hadn’t been expecting to tackle the issue quite this intensely.
 
“Well, uh, that’s just it A.J.! It’s a filly, but I’m not sure which.”
 
“So it’s a whole bunch a’ fillies?”
 
“No! I mean I actually, truly do not know who this filly is. Whether I’ve met her before or I should know or it’s just some kind of weird enchantment, I just don’t know.”
 
Applejack was silent for a whole other row after that, staring straight ahead the entire time. Dusk watched him all the while, eyes wide and lips quivering, feeling the pressure to say something, anything begin to build, until he felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode. Applejack’s thoughtful nature could be maddening when he had so much uncertainty about the issue. Just when he thought he’d have to magic Applejack’s hat off his head to get his attention, the farmpony spoke, coming to a dead halt in the middle of the field.
 
“Well, Ah can see how that’s a consternatin’ problem, Dusk.”
 
Dusk’s words tumbled out of him in a frustrated rush. “You’re telling me! I mean, it’s not like I want to dream about her! I don’t know anything about her, Applejack, not a single thing. I just know she reminds me of somepony like me, and I know that sounds crazy, but she does. I feel like I should know her like I know me, but there’s no clues that point to who she is, but she can’t be me! That’d be crazy, right? Tell me I’m crazy, Applejack! No, don’t! Tell me I’m fine!”
 
“Dusk, please put down the plough.”
 
Dusk looked over his shoulder and realized he’d been levitating the dangerous farm implement while his feelings rambled from one emotion to another. He lowered it back into the dirt, staring miserably at the ground.
 
“I’m sorry AJ,” he whispered, “this is just something that’s really been eating at me. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I’d gotten to talk about it.”
 
A gentle hoof rested on his shoulder, a smiling face with green eyes regarded him warmly. “Then Ah’m glad you came ta’ me, Dusk. Takes guts ta’ look for help, and it ain’t no shame at all ta’ ask. Ah’d know, you taught me! Now this sounds like somethin’ you need big help with, Dusk, like one of your fancified unicorny magical conundrums. Elusive’s no help in stuff like that… so Ah think we both know the best next step.”
 
Dusk scuffed a hoof in the dirt.
 
“You really think he’d bother with something like this?”
 
“He bothered ta’ be a second father to ya, you told me that much. Quit yer worryin’, Dusk. He’ll give you advice Ah’d never be able to.”
 
Another moment of scuffing petulantly at the dirt, like a child afraid to admit they were wrong.
 
“You’re right. Sorry to bother you like this, Applejack.”
 
“It’s A.J. when it’s just you an’ me, pal. Now come on, let’s finish this field an’ we’ll get us some fresh apple cider!”
 
They turned back to their work with smiles on their faces, and it was quiet for a time until they finished and Applejack bumped his shoulder.
 
“So, our little Dusky’s startin’ ta’ think about the finer things in life, huh?” he asked with a  huge, knowing grin on his face. Dusk smiled tentatively and ducked his head, finding interest in a bumblebee inspecting a nearby flower.

“It’s not really like that. Hardly a dream that actually has to do with fillies in general, it just... has a filly in it.”

Applejack threw a hoof over Dusk’s shoulder. “Ah knew Ah’d have this talk with ya sooner or later, Dusk. Since the important stuff’s outta the way, we might as well buck this apple outta the tree while the buckin’s good. Now lemme tell ya’ll somethin’ about fillies…”
 
/=/
 
“It’s absolutely nothing like what Applejack says!”
 
Dusk Shine looked over the rim of his teacup, the liquid inside quivering from a recent sip.
 
“No?” he asked Elusive. The other stallion tossed his immaculate mane back and forth in a definitive one-two motion.
 
“Absolutely not! Applejack has many admirable qualities, but his knowledge about the fairer sex is severely lacking. Dusk Shine, I’m glad you came to me about this! I assume you’ve read books about this matter? You know most of the, erm, more delicate points about anatomy and what bits go where? I dread the day I have to help Mother and Father give Silver Bell this talk, so I suppose this will be good practice...”

Dusk Shine tapped his hooves together.
 
“That’s not really my problem, Elusive.”
 
Elusive’s eyes were closed as he went on, ignoring Dusk. “The first thing you need to know is that all fillies appreciate a gentlecolt! More than anything else they desire to be treated right. A relationship with a filly is like a fine wine. It needs to be given the utmost care and concern, or it will spoil and go bad. The filly herself? First of all, one must understand there is a proper method to courting the mare of your dreams. Unlike what Applejack told you, one does not simply approach them and say… what was it he said to Spring Thyme? ‘Ya’ll awr mighty pretty an’ I’m rather sweet on ya, so let’s swing bah th’ café?’”
 
Dusk had to suppress a snigger at the way Elusive butchered the farmpony’s accent. The white unicorn shook his head.
 
“No, never like that! A proper lady deserves only the utmost respect. But good behavior is just the start. When a stallion approaches a mare, he must observe all the proper courtesies. Ask her name, maintain eye contact…”

Dusk raised an eyebrow as Elusive crossed his hooves over his chest, like he was clasping something. Elusive continued, “Tell her… tell her how beautiful she is. How her fair mane cascades over her neck and shoulders like a sparkling stream. How you couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes met from across the room, hers shining like a lighthouse in the night. And you say: ‘My name is Elusive, my lady. But I would never dare slip away from one as fair as you.’”
 
“Lucy…”
 
“Oh, your name is Marigold? How pretty. Much nicer than Princess Bluebell. Ha! What a stuck-up old goat she was! Let me tell you about how she very nearly ruined my dreams of ever achieving marital bliss in this life!”
 
Dusk leaned back. “Lucy? Are you all right?”
 
Elusive’s eye twitched as he looked straight at Dusk with a worryingly unfocused expression. “All right? Perfectly all right! Just another lovely daydream ruined by the sneering visage of the one mare impervious to the most courteous gentlestallion behavior in all Equestria, who I’d rather take an ice pick to the head than have to spend another night with!”
 
He leaped up and slammed his hooves down on the table, breathing heavily. Dusk felt the stares of other ponies swing their way, and watched uncomfortably as Elusive’s expression went from incensed to mortified. He sat down and smoothed out his mane, laughing nervously.
 
“Erm, yes, well, I don’t think Silver Bell will get quite that kind of a talk from me. You were saying, Dusk Shine?”
 
“That wasn’t really what I was here to talk about.”
 
Elusive blinked. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry! Here I am condescending to you like a little colt! Of course our Dusk Shine doesn’t need advice on that particular subject.”
 
“Yeah, like I was saying… these weird dreams. They’re making me uncomfortable.”
 
Elusive blinked again. “But… they’re not about fillies?”
 
“No! That’s what I’ve been saying. Just one in particular. It’s not one of those dreams, it’s a strange kind. And I really don’t know what to do. My books don’t say anything about it, so I thought it had to be something magical! I mean, if it’s not a dream like that, and I’ve told you about them so you know, you don’t think they’re just me crying out for a fillyfriend, do you?”
 
Elusive rubbed his chin. “Well, as adorable as the idea of bookish old Dusk Shine finally breaking into his romantic side is, no, I must say that on review, these dreams are not what I’d call a blossoming desire for companionship. It sounds almost like a message of some kind, really!”
 
“Exactly!” Dusk Shine said, bouncing in his seat. “Exactly. And if somepony is trying to tell me something, why not the rest of the Elements of Harmony? Applejack said he hadn’t felt anything, and I haven’t found Rainbow Blitz today yet.”
 
Elusive hummed, tapping his hooves together. “If it’s a magical message that we can’t decipher, would it not be better to let Prince Solaris know?”
 
Dusk Shine sighed. “It took Applejack telling me for me to finally send the letter. I thought after all the trouble I’ve caused it’d be better not to bother him…”
 
They looked up as a bright green flash heralded the appearance of a bound scroll in the air between them. Dusk Shine caught it before it could drop in his tea.
 
“But I guess he thinks otherwise.”
 
“What does it say?” Elusive said, leaning over the table as Dusk Shine unwrapped the scroll.
 
“It says he got my message,” Dusk Shine murmured, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry, “he wants to talk to me about it personally… and to come as soon as I can.”
 
/-/-/-/
 
“Signed, Princess Celestia.”
 
Twilight Sparkle gulped heavily as she finished reading. If the Princess said it was urgent, then it was urgent! She knew there had to be something important going on.
 
Rarity set down her teacup, the bustle of the cafe no longer so important. “So it’s true?” she wondered, a worried look on her face.
 
Twilight gave her the most reassuring smile she could conjure. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much. Clearly, the Princess believes she has an explanation. So once I talk with her, she’ll be able to explain everything. But there’s only one course of action to take from here,” she said, and the look in her eyes brooked no argument.
 
“I’m going to Canterlot.”


> Runaround
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Little flower, little flower, I have been waiting this whole hour! Come out and start blooming or I will start foo- fe- fuming!”

Dusk Shine bit back a groan at the way little Sunshine Sprinkle delivered her lines, giving the abdomen of her bee costume a shake that set the whole audience besides him chuckling. He didn’t have anything against foals; he loved most of them to bits, especially the Cakes’ new twins. But he did have very unpleasant and nigh catastrophic memories of foalhood plays. He’d only ever been in one play put on by Solaris’ School for Gifted Unicorns, stuck onto the cast list more or less against his will. It had been a well-intentioned experiment of the Prince’s to see how his new student handled being in the spotlight, and he had understood that nopony really expected a play about food groups and nutrition to go badly.

‘Dusk Shine the Blissful Banana’ did not take his first monologue in front of an audience of staring ponies well, however. After everypony realized that half the cast wasn’t actually supposed to be a pile of fruits and vegetables and the purple unicorn colt wasn’t following stage directions by running in panicked circles, Solaris had stepped in to put a stop to the ensuing ruckus.

Dusk Shine was just thankful his costume had already been yellow.

“Is this really necessary?” he sighed.

“Hush, Dusk Shine,” Prince Solaris muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “this is my favorite part!”

Dusk Shine suppressed another groan and more unpleasant memories, fidgeting in his seat.

Sunshine Sprinkles skipped her away across the stage.“Bumblebee! Bumblebee! This flower is for me! Step back or I will do... my thing!”

Another foal dressed in a cardinal’s costume hopped on stage in a passing imitation of an anxious bird. She confronted the bumblebee and the two started long, clumsily pronounced speeches about why they both deserved the flower. The embarrassed looking colt in the flower costume just turned to look at each of the fillies while they spoke.

Dusk Shine felt his eyelids droop. "I'm just finding it hard to believe your urgent letter was an invitation to a school play. About the birds and the bees."

"Come now, Dusk," Solaris chided him, a beatific smile tugging at his lips, "we all need a refresher every now and then.”

“Ugh...”

“Besides, why not relax a little before we dig into the serious business?”

Dusk Shine looked up at his teacher. “You mean you believe-”

“Shh,” Solaris hushed him, eyes on the play, “all things in their time, Dusk.”

Dusk Shine settled back into his seat and watched the remainder of the play. While foreign rulers found it hard to believe that Prince Solaris took time out of ruling Equestria and making sure the Sun didn’t smash into the earth to watch foalhood plays, Dusk knew him better than that. He wasn’t just a Prince, some untouchable ideal seated on a golden throne. He was a pony, just like the rest of them. Wise and millenia old but with the same heart. He’d seen it, growing up in the palace and being taken under Solaris’ wing when he had nightmares or ruminating with him over magical equations. The hours of the day he had command of were given completely to his little ponies. He saw it in the way the Prince spoke to each and every pony who came to court with the same politeness and affection, no matter their age or position. He saw it in the way he regarded the children on stage as if they were his own. This wasn’t the Prince of Equestria, it was Solaris, who loved the land and everypony in it, enough to do something as ‘demeaning’ as attend a play at one of Canterlot’s less important districts.
 
The play came to a saccharine conclusion as bird, bee, and even flower decided to make friends with each other, complete with a song that was so adorably off-key Dusk struggled not to burst out laughing by the end. 

The Prince’s applause nearly drowned out the rest of the audience. “Bravo! Bravo I say!” he roared from their box seat, and by the infectious grin on his bearded face Dusk knew he was being sincere. “Excellent work, all of you! Good job little ponies!”
 
The foals beamed as they scampered off stage. Dusk Shine hoped to immediately start talking about his little issue, but Solaris hopped out of his seat and dropped to the ground floor, congratulating the parents and faculty for a successful performance. He leaned against the balcony railing, bored out of his formidable mind.
 
“Impressive, is it not,” a smooth, cool voice whispered from the shadows behind Solaris’ seat, “how he manages to be so affectionate at all hours of the day?”
 
“Prince Artemis!” Dusk started, turning to face the alicorn. “But it isn’t even sundown?”
 
“I got up early,” Artemis said with a toss of his ethereal mane, “and Solaris needed somepony to mind the castle whilst he mingles. Do not worry, this is just a projection of mine; I’m still attending court, but the throne room is empty and I wanted to see if I could, how do you say, ‘hang out’ with nothing else to do.”
 
Dusk Shine smirked. Artemis’ command of modern vernacular had improved quite a bit since they last spoke. “It is nice,” he answered, “Solaris really wants everypony to feel like they’re valued. I can wait a little while.”
 
“He mentioned it,” Artemis exclaimed, “your letter, that is. He seemed excited to speak to you about it. Dreams of a mysterious filly? That could turn out to be another misadventure of yours… or there may be deep magic at work here.”
 
Dusk Shine blinked. “Deep magic? You think-”
 
“Dreams are my specialty, Dusk Shine. Anypony can dream whenever they want, but dreams are still closely linked to my realm of Night. Even I dream.”
 
The Prince’s lips drew a tight line, and he looked to the floor, dusky eyes sharp and contemplative.

“But my dreams are always business. Never pleasure.” He glanced up again, and even though he wasn’t there in pony, Dusk Shine felt the intensity of his gaze. “Mind yourself when investigating this, Dusk Shine. Every dream means something.”
 
“Artemis!” Solaris barked with exaggerated ferocity as he flew up to the box seat again. “What have I told you about skulking around being all mysterious? The way you use your shadow-phasing, you’d think King Metamorphosis still had spies everywhere!”
 
“Sorry, brother,” Artemis sighed, “I was just trying to speak to Dusk Shine about his little problem.”
 
Solaris harrumphed. “Well, no need for all this back room haggling. Come, Dusk Shine! To the palace!”
 
There was a flash of light, and Dusk Shine found himself standing in the private quarters of Prince Solaris, surrounded by splendor. It didn’t even matter to Dusk Shine anymore, who had grown up at the very hooves of the Prince. Solaris lit up a fire in the hearth with a flash of his horn. Artemis sat in the corner, away from the flames and in a place where he could observe the whole room.
 
“Still shadow-phasing?” Dusk asked. Artemis nodded.
 
“I wished to be present at this discussion, if you do not mind.”
 
Solaris smiled. “Not at all, brother! Dusk Shine, please sit down. I’ll have some tea sent up.”
 
In a matter of minutes they were seated on luxurious cushions sipping steaming hot Neighponese green tea save Artemis, who still sat in the corner with a look of intense concentration.
 
“Now, Dusk,” Solaris said once they were settled in, “I know what you’re thinking, me bringing you to that play.”
 
“It was a fine jape, brother,” Artemis said with the barest hint of a smile.
 
“But,” continued Solaris, giving Artemis a sharp glance, “I did not want to make light of your concerns.”
 
“Oh, I understand!” Dusk blurted out, all of his previous indignation forgotten in the face of even a hint of regret from Solaris. “I’m not offended. You just thought it’d be a nice way to break the ice, get me thinking. I know how my letter must have sounded.”
 
“Panicked,” Solaris said, “vague. Anxious. Much in the way any colt gets about their first crush. So let’s get this out of the way. You have not found a certain filly whose company you enjoy greatly and cannot get out of your mind.”
 
“No.”
 
“Well, shoot.”
 
“What?!”
 
“Nothing, nothing,” Solaris said, hiding his shifty expression behind his cup of tea, “though that would be easier to deal with, certainly...”

Dusk Shine rolled his eyes.

“Solaris, it’s not so much that as what the dream seems to mean. I’m not sure how to explain it, so I’ll just describe it as best as I can."

He took a deep breath.

"It starts in a dark place. There’s nopony else there but me, but I can’t help but feel like it isn’t an empty place, or even a scary one. It’s not a void so much as it feels like a space waiting, needing to be filled by something.”
 
Dusk Shine bit his lower lip, uncertain how to describe the next part in detail.
 
“I-it’s not like a nothingness. It’s like there’s something that’s supposed to be there, something that I should know, or remember. Like the final question on an exam that you know you know the answer to, but it just won’t come to you. And for some reason I can’t move. I can’t look around. Just ahead. I want to look around, but there’s something that stops me before I do.”
 
He let out a gentle, yearning sigh, looking out the window as he gathered his thoughts for what came next. Outside the sun was beginning to drop beneath the horizon. Soon dusk would fall on Equestria and only the sun's light would remain for a few twinkling minutes, like it was bidding everypony a comfortable good night. Dusk would fall on Equestria. Dusk liked to think he helped ensure that comfort given all he'd done for his fellow ponies.
 
“There's somepony with me," he said, entranced by the thought of the stars appearing.
 
"Who?" Solaris asked. His voice sounded far away.
 
"I'm not sure. I think I know who she is."
 
The words were breathed out more than said, feeling as though they tore out a little piece of him as he let them pass his lips. There was a sense of stillness, accompanied by intense longing in him as he stopped, almost unable to go on.
 
“She?" Artemis asked into the dreadful silence.
 
“Just her,” Dusk Shine said. “I don’t know her name, or anything. I just know I know her. It’s this intense familiarity, but I feel like I don’t know her well enough, and I want to get to know her better. But I can’t say anything. Something is stopping the words before they can get out. She hears something, though, something I don’t. It makes her turn. Not far enough to see me, but far enough that I can see her face, and her cutie mark.”
 
He looked up at Solaris, eyes wide.
 
“It’s my mark. And she looks just like me.”
 
The Princes were silent.
 
“I wake up in a sweat. I feel like something hasn’t been done that I desperately needed to do. I feel like I should have said something to her. Like all of this is a dream I had before, but not like this. It felt as if I was the one telling myself all this over and over, just forgetting it each time I woke up. Except it’s not quite me. It’s like I was watching something and controlling it all at the same time. Putting myself through this. But why?"
 
He looked up at Solaris.
 
"Do you know what I mean, Prince?" he asked, voice hushed. "Every day for the past few weeks has been like this and I just don’t know what to make of it anymore. I’d do my best to delve into some dream-seeing, but I know that’s Artemis’ camp and he doesn’t like it when ponies barge in unexpectedly on anything, let alone his particular fields of magic, and then there’s the fact that it doesn’t feel like any magic is being cast during the dream, so it’s gotta be coming from somewhere else-”
 
“Dusk,” Solaris said with a patient smile, “you’re babbling. Don’t worry. I am here to help you.” 

Dusk breathed in and out the way Solaris taught him to whenever he got too worked up, starting in the belly and taking it slow, gradually bringing his emotions to heel.

“It seems that your little problem requires a bit more... focus,” Solaris continued, eyes half closed, his tone much more solemn than before, “and if that is the case, there are a few things that should be cleared up before we continue.”

Dusk remembered Artemis’ words and shivered. “Is it... bad?”

“Hardly,” Solaris answered, “but it is important, Dusk Shine. There are many mysteries in this world, mysteries I know you are keen to solve.” His half-lidded eyes fell completely in line with Dusk Shine’s, making him shiver with the power and knowledge behind his rosy pupils. “If what you are saying is true, then it is time I shared some of them with you. I had thought that perhaps we could wait on this conversation, but I believe the Elements have thrust this time upon us. So, my faithful student, are you ready to learn?”

“I am,” Dusk Shine answered without hesitation, squaring his shoulders and smiling wide. Ready to learn? As if the Prince needed to ask! Solaris glanced at Artemis, who nodded once. The two of them shared a furtive, bemused smile before Solaris spoke.

“I’m sure you have been wondering a great deal about your place in the world as the Element of Magic. You have been entrusted with deep and ancient power. But not by us.”

Dusk Shine bit back a gulp as Artemis picked up where his brother left off. 

“When we first possessed the Elements, they were no more than what you have now: forces that gave us aid in times of great need. But over time, we began to grow more... aware of their place in our lives. Though we kept them safe with us for many centuries, we were never able to fully puzzle out how or why the Elements choose their bearers the way they do. And they do choose, Dusk Shine. They chose you and your friends.

“The Elements are more than what even we know. They have the capability to tell us things, things of great importance. They judge their owners in ways we do not yet understand. You, Dusk Shine, accomplished things that should be impossible. You and your friends defeated Chaos itself, even though you and your friendships had been ripped asunder. You brought my brother back from the brink of the abyss, before you even knew the Elements were with you. And you were instrumental in saving the Crystal Empire from the depredations of Queen Sombra. With such an impressive resume, it seems obvious that Magic decided you had proved yourself worthy, and chose now to begin relating to you mysteries it had only whispered to my brother and I.”

“You mean these dreams are my Element speaking to me?” Dusk Shine gasped. “But if that’s true...” 

He tapped his chin.

“Is Magic a filly?”

There was a moment of silence before Solaris and Artemis burst out laughing. Dusk Shine immediately blushed and looked away.

“Well, it seemed the most applicable theory, given all the evidence,” he said.

“Oh, no, Dusk Shine, some levity is always good when discussing deep and ancient things!” Solaris said through his chortling, “but no! No, Magic and the rest of the Elements are not one of us, my faithful student. They have no gender or classification; they are what they are. Magic is trying to tell you something about this unknown pony, or something about not knowing this pony has some meaning that Magic means to relate to you.”

Dusk Shine sat in silence, trying to comprehend what he was hearing: his Element had a mind of its own and meant to tell him something. The implications were mind-boggling, even a little frightening.

“Should I be wearing it more often?” he asked. “The Element, I mean? If it wants to talk to me, then maybe I should connect myself to it physically a little more.”

Solaris’ brow furrowed, raising his gaze to peer at the space above Dusk Shine’s head, and when he spoke his voice grew a little more faint and deep, reverberating with some intangible, ethereal quality. Dusk Shine could have sworn he even saw small, tiny swirls of energy coloring the breaths that Solaris took in that moment.

“Magic is not just the jewel you wear, Dusk Shine. It is the magic you feel all around you. It springs to life in the heart of any pony who feels kinship with another. It hovers in the air above you when you organize your books, and swims through the clouds alongside the pegasi. It resides in every tiny seed tended to by earth pony hooves, and rises up alongside every generation that watches a tree grow in the park. It runs wild and untamed in the depths of Everfree Forest, courses through the blood of Dragons, and resides in the depths of the ocean with every great and tiny beast that lives there. It hides in the deep places of the earth and watches over the making of our world when rocks shift and mountains fall. It sings with me and my brother when we lift and bring down the Sun and the Moon, and dances in every tiny spark that unicorn foals make when they grow.”

His fathomless eyes glanced down at Dusk Shine again, and he shivered with fearful respect. Solaris seemed larger than normal, looming over him, and beside him Artemis’ eyes shone with  some light that seemed to come from inside. Alongside the joy and compassion, behind the gentle smiles and wise judgments, there were ponies who had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms and taken on naked chaos with their bare hooves, and Dusk Shine felt incredibly small.

“Whenever you smile upon seeing your friends, whenever you fall asleep reading some ancient tome, every time your horn glows, you are communing with Magic. It never lacks for conversation with us or you. It is simply taking the time to talk back in a more direct manner than you are accustomed to.”

“But how am I supposed to answer?” 

Solaris smiled, and his overcast shadow lightened like the dawn.

“That is the question, isn’t it? Due to the nature of the Elements, I am afraid that I cannot act as a guide here, my faithful student, only as a helping hoof when you need it. You are closer to the Element of Magic than even I. Because of this I think it best if you look into this yourself, with your sharp mind and open senses. But you will not be on your own. Artemis and I will be here to help you. You will be given free reign of the archives here and a direct line to Canterlot whenever you need it. Observe...”

Solaris bowed his head, his horn glowed, and a complex sigil appeared on the floor in front of Dusk Shine. It took the shape of a large circle with smaller circles within, and complex patterns radiating outward inside every circle. Far from being surprised Dusk Shine immediately began studying the fine details of the sigil, remembering several of the symbols from his reading of Starswirl’s work.

“That’s a teleportation sigil!” he deduced with a proud smile. “Solaris, you’re giving me one of these for my own personal use? I haven’t even mastered basic ones yet!”

“I know you are not yet capable of long-distance teleportation,” said Solaris, “and this will augment your abilities until you are. It will be your free train ticket from Ponyville to Canterlot and back again. Think of this as a bit of... incentive. A down payment for the wonderful work I know you will accomplish. I encourage you to look into this matter with all the skill you are endowed with, Dusk Shine. To start with I suggest you return to your friends and find counsel with them. Only the magic of friendship will help you when the Elements are involved.”

“And when I have the dream again?” Dusk Shine asked.

“There are a great many tools you can put to use to observe the ebb and flow of your magic when you sleep. Start with Eventide’s section in the royal archives. She was a master of looking into the subconscious, and I believe you will find what you need there. Should it be too much for you, then Artemis and I will be here to step in.”

“Dream-seeing is not an easy magic to master,” said Artemis. “I will make myself as available as I can to help you.

Dusk Shine couldn’t help but stutter. “Well, that... that’s a lot of trust you’re giving me, Solaris. If you think I’m ready for all this, I’d be glad to start figuring it out with your blessing, I mean, it’s like I’m advancing to a whole new level of study learning how to communicate with the Elements themselves!”

“Dusk Shine, you and your friends recently helped restore the Crystal Empire to its rightful place, sealing away another ancient evil. That’s... what, the third one so far?” Solaris asked, smiling genially at Artemis, who shrugged.

“At this point, who’s counting?” the Night Prince answered.

Solaris turned back to Dusk Shine. “Case in point. You are more than ready to unlock whatever mystery Magic may have for you, my faithful student. But before then...”

He tapped a hoof on the sigil still glowing on the floor.

“I hoped you might indulge me with a personal magic lesson.”

Dusk Shine felt his heart swell.

“I’d love to.”

-----------

Twilight Sparkle sat upon the most lavish pillows that Equestria’s craftponies ever made. She liked to think that after all those years of learning at Celestia’s hooves, wandering the ancient halls of the castle, she’d learned to become accustomed to the splendor. She liked to think she was being modest. But every now and then, she couldn’t help but smile at how much favor was lavished on her when she came to visit the Princess. The servants and guards still treated her like she was born into royalty, and even if some of them insisted on calling her ‘little Twilight Sparkle,’ she adored the welcoming, familiar way they greeted her. It lifted her spirits when they actually pushed to be the ones to get to her first, and how they’d brought her favorite tea without even needing to ask, and fluffed pillows and opened doors for her with insouciant aplomb. It was almost like being a Princess herself, and that thought made her squirm and smile as she dug a little deeper into the soft folds of her floor pillow.
 
But that was improper. A real scholar didn’t think about physical, transient luxuries. They concentrated, they sat, and they pondered. So Twilight sat, and pondered what she was doing here. She knew why she was here, in Celestia’s personal quarters, but it was still odd for the Princess to request she go directly there once she was in the castle. The command hadn’t been cold or hurtful, just a little more impersonal than she was used to. Then again, this was a very important matter she’d asked the Princess about, and she was sure Celestia was doing something very officious and magical right now that would help her explain what was happening.
 
Her eyes closed halfway as she wandered familiar paths in her memories, sipping her tea. It was dark and left a bitter aftertaste, but smooth and strong on the way in. Like most knowledge, she reflected. Knowing things could be hard, but it was always worth it.

The door swung open, spoiling the relaxed atmosphere with a great rectangle of light spreading over the floor and the far wall, Celestia’s shadow following quickly. She swept into the room like her hooves weren’t even touching the floor, turning to smile at Twilight with a thousand years of practiced grace. Over a decade of being at her side gave Twilight the ability to see right through that smile.

“My faithful student! I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said in that special way reserved only for Twilight Sparkle: the gentle falling tone that meant she was sincerely sorry, not in the way she was sorry to start a meeting of the Unicorn Nobility late or deny Prince Blueblood another of his ludicrous vacation requests.

“It’s all right, Princess. You are the Princess, after all,” Twilight responded with a wink. “It’s a busy time in Canterlot, isn’t it? I saw socialites all over the place.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You wouldn’t believe half of it, Twilight.”

“I kept the tea warm for you.”

“Oh, excellent!” Celestia seated herself before Twilight, and for the next several minutes the two of them shared a quiet moment just drinking tea and making small talk, discussing anything and everything that crossed their minds. It was moments like this that Twilight lived for, the quiet times in between frentic studying and saving the world. The moments where she could sit back and bask in the presence of a pony she considered a second mother. Whole minutes went by in pleasant silence, the both of them occasionally sipping tea and stealing warm, happy glances at one another. Twilight loved that serenity, that consistency of thought and action. No need to make things spontaneous around Celestia; she was wise enough to practically see the future. No need to fret or worry; she had things well in hoof before Twilight had even thought about it. Here she could lay her frazzled mind to rest, and let her worries break on Celestia’s foundation.

“My beloved student,” she began, and the words were a heavenly chorus in Twilight’s ears, “I believe we have something important to discuss.”

“Ahem. Yes, Princess Celestia,” said Twilight, putting her tea down, “the letter you replied with made it sound urgent.”

Celestia took another long sip from her cup. “As did yours.”

Twilight blushed.

“However, we are both here, none the worse for wear, and you know you can discuss anything with me, Twilight. Be at ease and explain what’s been troubling you in detail. I promise I will listen to everything you have to say.”

Twilight’s chest almost exploded with adoration.

“Well, Princess, then I guess I’ve got a story for you! I know I mentioned in my letters that I’ve been getting these weird... well, visions for lack of a better word. I don’t know what they are or who they’re of, but they’ve been far too common and consistent to not mean something.”

“Go on,” Celestia said quietly, eyeing her with what Twilight took to be concern and care.

“Well, it... I’m not quite sure how to explain it, so I guess I’ll just describe it."

She took a deep breath.

“It starts in a dark place. There’s nopony else there but me, but I can’t help but feel like it isn’t an empty place, or even a scary one. It’s not a void so much as it feels like a space waiting, needing to be filled by something.”

She paused, waiting for a reaction from Celestia. When none came, she continued on, the words spilling out of her mouth with a strange energy behind them that made her hooves jittery and her words stutter. She tapped her hooves together, trying to push even further into her pillow.

“I-it’s not like a nothingness. It’s like there’s something that’s supposed to be there, something that I should know, or remember. Like the final question on an exam that you know you know the answer to, but it just won’t come to you. And for some reason I can’t move. I can’t look around. Just ahead. I want to look around, but there’s something that stops me before I do.”

Twilight looked outside the balcony entrance, where the sun was beginning its lethargic march down to the horizon. Late afternoon was an interesting time to her; it brought her closer to the twilight. Somehow it helped her concentrate, helped her feel things that she didn’t before, when that time came. She loved to watch the stars appear, one by one in the sky, before they all came to life when Luna’s night took over. It was like a special show for everypony who cared to watch. A special time she was named for.

“There’s somepony with me,” she said in a near whisper, entranced by the thought of the stars appearing.

“Who?” Celestia asked. Her voice sounded like the whispery end of a shout carried from a far off hill.

“I’m not sure. I think I know who he is.”

The word was breathed out more than said, feeling as though it tore out a little piece of her as she let it pass her lips. 

“He?” Celestia asked into the dreadful silence.

“In the dream,” Twilight continued, “something catches my attention, something just at the corner of my eye. I turn to look at it, but then I see something else.”

She gulped.

“It’s bad, whatever it is. And the first thing I saw is still there, trying to get me to turn, but I can’t. Or don’t want to. There’s something about what I’m seeing that I should know but I can’t bring myself to remember. But he’s still there, waiting for me to look at him. You read my letter... I don’t know how I know, and that’s the scariest thing. I just know it’s a he, and that I should know him. Like all of this is a dream I had before, but not like this. It felt as if I was the one telling myself all this over and over, just forgetting it each time I woke up. Except it’s not quite me. It’s like I was watching something and controlling it all at the same time. Putting myself through this. But why?”

Twilight lifted her hoof and turned it over, examining it closely. The gentle curves and soft textures seemed like teasing jokes from a pony who knew her far better than she knew herself, who knew exactly what this sense of familiarity was and simply refused to tell her what it all meant.

“Do you know what I mean, Princess?” she asked, her voice barely audible above the gentle murmur of the fireplace.

A long silence followed, and a haze seemed to fall over Twilight’s mind. She was wrapped up in thought about her dreams, and the warm, comfortable nature of Celestia’s room only encouraged the lazy ruminating.

“Twilight,” the Princess said all of a sudden, dragging her back to reality, “I’m going to tell you something very important.”

“Yes, Princess?” Twilight asked, still staring at her hoof.

“Twilight. I believe you are putting a bit too much importance on this matter.”

“What?” Twilight dropped her hoof, eyes going wide.

“I mean, I believe you might be overreacting.”

“What... but how? I’ve been having these dreams for over two weeks now! Nightly!”

The Princess set down her teacup, her expression placid. “It is doubtless that there is some kind of imbalance here, Twilight, but I don’t believe you should put undue stress on yourself.”

There was that voice. Twilight knew that voice well; she’d been the victim of it many times. Whenever she’d flipped out over a few missed questions she thought she’d gotten right, whenever she was late for a meeting with the Princess, or whenever she nearly destroyed the town over some of the smallest things. The old, familiar shame of those days flooded back and colored her cheeks red as she looked at the lavish, carpeted floor.

“You really think it’s just something I’ve been doing?” she wondered.

“Or not been doing,” Celestia said with a beatific smile. “A couple of your friends’ latest reports did tell me you’ve been having trouble sleeping, concentrating—”

“Because of the dream!” Twilight insisted. “I-I’ve gone over every possible variable! You remember when I cast the ‘Want It Need It’ spell on Ponyville? I decided I’d never let myself go like that again. I kept track of my diet, I recorded every time I went out, went to sleep, woke up! Nothing changed! Nothing stopped it from coming!”

“Twilight,” Celestia cut in, in that voice that only a Princess could use that made interrupting sound polite, “you’re babbling. Please, calm down. If it’s truly this bad, then I might have a solution.”

She looked out of the corners of her eyes, to some point over her right shoulder near the fireplace.

“Luna?”

Twilight gasped as the Night Princess materialized in a swirl of nebulous, star-filled cloud.

“My apologies, Twilight Sparkle,” she said, striding into the room with her head up in a way that annoyed Twilight, like she was trying to make herself a little taller so she could look down, “my sister had suspected this would turn into a talk that would need my expertise.”

“In dream magic,” Twilight whispered, struggling between respect for her mentor’s way of handling a problem, and her annoyance at being spied on during a supposedly private conversation. The good feelings from before evaporated like dew.

“In dream magic,” Luna repeated with a nod. “I am a straightforward kind of mare, as you know, so I will come straight to the point. These dreams are a burden on your mind that I can relieve. Heed my teachings in dream magic, and I may be able to rid you of these troublesome visions.”

Twilight looked back up at Celestia.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked.

“Fear not, my faithful student. Luna is not going to invade your mind nor tell it what to think. But uncertain visions are—as I can claim with certainty—often the product of a mind that finds itself lost for focus. Twilight, everypony’s mind has a mind of its own. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“When you are awake, you can direct where your thoughts may go. You concentrate on certain things and devote brainpower to it whether you really want to or not. And for you the effect is especially potent. You are awake at nearly all hours of the day, focused on solving problems. It can make you high-strung. It can cause your mind to, for lack of a better phrase, become knotted up, twisted in such a way that it will do its best to unravel while it is at rest. It’s like straining a single muscle all day long, and then finally letting that tension go.”

“That is vastly oversimplifying,” Luna said with a hint of impatience, “but that is the long and short of it. You are tired, Twilight Sparkle, even if you don’t feel it. It is a product of the subconscious, of your very spirit aching for some kind of release, some way to undo the stress you have been under for so long.”

“Don’t deny it, little one,” Celestia said in that sweet, motherly tone. “All your life you have been striving, and very recently you were forced to lock away another ancient evil at my behest. Please, speak with Luna. Find a way to uncover the source of your mental fatigue and repair it.”

Twilight dragged her hoof over the carpet, her mind roiling. These questions were sudden and surprising, even a little offensive. She’d come here looking for guidance and was getting a psychological study! She opened her mouth, ready to say as much, but then closed it again, and was genuinely thankful the Princesses stayed quiet to let her think. She couldn’t just say she was indignant at being treated like a filly, given a proverbial glass of warm milk and told there weren’t any bad monsters in her closet. She respected Celestia’s wisdom far too much. She’d never been led astray so far, why would Celestia start now with something so obviously important?

And deep, deep, deep down in the very smallest, most fragile corner of her psyche, she did like being held by the hoof from time to time, just a teensy little bit. It wasn’t a matter of giving up her willfulness, discovered so recently as a blossoming young mare, as it was the desire to just sometimes give up the responsibilities thrust upon her. They had been piling up recently. When Pinkie Pie decided she’d go and clone herself and caused a disaster, who had the entire town come to for advice? When the Crystal Empire was threatened, who alone was given the task of saving it? Who had been told to go to Ponyville and kick off all the insanity that her life had become?

It was always her: Twilight Sparkle, by herself, told to give and study and figure out, and then being told that was the right thing to do even if her mind was being literally twisted into knots, in the Princess’ words.

A mare did enjoy being just a teeny bit selfish, a teeny bit babied if that was the case. Here she’d been overwhelmed and was being tossed a bone. Perhaps it was just a matter of perspective to look at it as indulgent and caring instead of condescending. If Celestia herself, the epitome of loving care and gentleness, was offering to provide that kind of unconditional guidance, how could she refuse?

How could she want to?

“This is all very sudden,” she settled on saying, tracing circles in the rug with her hoof. “I mean, I get it, Princess. I get it: I’ve been working too hard. Sometimes I think I’ve always been working too hard. If this is really just a product of that, then I guess learning dream magic and putting the reins on my brain won’t be such a bad idea...”

She dared to look up, dared Celestia to show anything but that look of motherly concern she’d yearned for since she was a filly.

“But I’ll do it under the condition that I make some of my own inquiries,” she said in a rush, feeling defiant, frightened, blasphemous. She’d practically spit in Celestia’s face!

But all the Princess did was smile that ingratiatingly placid, practiced smile, and that was the kind Twilight knew she used when she wasn’t really feeling it. “You wouldn’t be my faithful student if you didn’t try to tackle this yourself,” Celestia murmured. “I’m glad you will give Luna this chance. I think it will help you two come even closer together than you were before! You can start whenever you like.”

“I will clear my schedule in the late evenings after the Sun has set,” Luna announced. “Simply have Spike send word and I will come to you.”

Twilight stood up and bowed. She was too distracted to think of giving a customary goodbye hug to Celestia, who didn’t seem to mind. That just upset Twilight even more, and made her feel like the entire conversation had been dancing around the main issue, all of them just saying things and making all the right responses without really feeling it. For Twilight, that was infinitely more frustrating than even being denied outright.

She caught on at the last moment, just as she was exiting Celestia’s chambers and the door shut behind her. It wasn’t that they’d barely talked about the actual dream itself, though that was a large part of it.

Celestia hadn’t sounded proud when she said ‘my faithful student.’ The words were forced out in a sighing breath, a weary presence that hadn’t been there before. For the first time since they’d met, Celestia had been frustrated that Twilight wanted to know something. Her personal teacher in all aspects of life apart from her own mother had been trying to tell her not to learn something.

She said nothing and didn’t even smile to the two cheerful carriage pullers who greeted her at the castle gate. All the long, empty road back to Ponyville, she watched the Sun set through the window, and couldn’t help but notice that it felt just a tiny bit less bright, more of a cool, passive eye that watched her intently, fixing its gaze firmly upon her even as it sank below the distant hills past the Everfree Forest.

> Tenacity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dusk Shine woke up in a cold sweat. 

It took him a moment to remember where he was: the familiar space between mattress and blanket in his own bed. It was unnaturally cold and he quickly huddled himself further under the sheets, leaving just a small opening for his head to poke out of.

The window was slightly ajar, and Dusk Shine bit back a grunt of annoyance as he magically pushed it shut again. He must have forgotten to close it after his nightly stargazing; that always helped him sleep. Outside he saw the buildings of Ponyville all dark and quiet, huddled together under a menagerie of stars.

The clock read 11:45. He’d only just gone to bed an hour ago after poring over his books and leaving them where they fell in his haste; poor Spines would have to help him pick up that mess in the morning. His mind ran in anxious circles, dragging him to wakefulness against his will. The thought of all his poor books unattended on the floor just made everything worse, and he tossed and turned and even waggled his hooves in the air to relieve some of his restlessness.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” said somepony right next to him.

Dusk Shine kicked his hooves and flung the covers away, curling up as cold air shocked his nerves. Without thinking he levitated a nearby copy of Comet Dancer’s Alchemical Compendium Volume Three to defend himself, suffusing the room in his magic’s gentle purple glow. Shadows were thrown across the walls, and in the midst of them Dusk Shine saw a huge dark pony head, wings stretched to macabre proportions all the way to the ceiling. He gasped and fell backwards over his bed, landed on his head, legs and tail flailing as he swung the book wildly in the air above him.

“Stay back! This is four-hundred and seventy-three pages of pain you’re looking at!”

A scratchy, deep voice chided him from beyond the bed. “Dusk, seriously? You’re gonna wake up Spines.”

Dusk tossed the book aside and rolled upright, resting his front hooves on the bed and peeking across the room.

“Rainbow Blitz?” 

The pegasus rolled his eyes. “No, I’m a changeling. Come on, who else is awesome enough to sneak into the room of Equestria’s top wizard unnoticed?”

Dusk Shine let out a sigh, clambering over his bed towards the door. Spines stirred in her basket.

“Mmm... Dusk?” she slurred. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Spines. Rainbow Blitz dropped by.”

“Oh, okay... I’ll go put some tea on the kitten...”

A purple claw lifted up and groped blindly in the air before dropping back into the basket, followed by Spines’ soft breathing. Dusk smiled and opened the door as gently as he could, Rainbow close behind.

Once they reached the main part of the library, Dusk Shine led the way to the circular table in the center of the room they’d held so many group meetings over, the old wooden knight’s head carving still presiding.
 
Owloysious gave a quiet hoot from her perch near the window, turning her head all the way around to peer at her master and his friend.
 
Dusk glanced at Rainbow. “She wants to know if you want anything to drink.”
 
Rainbow shook his head. “Nah.”
 
The faithful owl respectfully turned back to the window, keeping a steady watch over the night. Dusk sat down at the table with Rainbow, lighting a single candle and setting it between them.
 
“So what are you doing here?” he asked.
 
Rainbow shrugged with his wings. “Like I said, I couldn’t sleep.”
 
“So you broke into my house,” Dusk finished for him.
 
“C’mon Dusk,” Rainbow said with an impatient roll of his eyes. “It’s not breaking in if the window’s unlocked. Besides we’re buddies: I’d never turn you away.”
 
“Well, while I appreciate the sentiment, you have to admit it’s a bit strange.”
 
“Elusive told me about your dreams.”
 
Dusk blinked. The way the pegasus just said it, without pretense or even a hint of bashfulness, was very Rainbow Blitz in manner, but totally unlike him otherwise. Rainbow never talked about his dreams unless they inspired some off-color jokes or a few scandalized gasps from his friends. 

Dusk twiddled his hooves, looking at the table. “Then you know I talked to Solaris about it too.”
 
“Yeah, and you left the rest of us in the dark. Not cool, Dusk.”
 
Dusk shifted his weight, unable to meet Rainbow’s steady, narrow-eyed stare.
 
“Rainbow, I just got back eight hours ago.”
 
“And you locked yourself up in your library the moment the carriage pulled in. I know, I saw. I get it: we all had a busy day and you didn’t wanna bother us or whatever, but you went to the Princes about this, Dusk. You didn’t come to us because you thought it was something we couldn’t help with. I came here tonight because I couldn’t stand it any longer, all the dodginess and scuttling around. I’m surprised AJ didn’t crack first; Honesty and all.”
 
Dusk’s fidgeting grew more pronounced until he was tracing circles on the table’s surface with his hoof, feeling guilt start to prick at him now. Rainbow pursed his lips and turned his glare to the ceiling. Dusk was relieved: any longer under that magenta stare and he’d have started sweating again.
 
Rainbow steepled his hooves. “Look, Dusk… I’m just saying I know it’s gotta be something bad if you’re acting like this. Don’t think the rest of us haven’t noticed: The glassy eyes, the way you sort of sway when you walk, how you never quite focus on anything. You just wander around the library all day, going through the motions. I know what lack of sleep does to you, Dusk. Burn all the calories I do and you learn real quick how important a few naps are in the day. When was the last time you actually got an uninterrupted night’s sleep?”
 
Dusk couldn’t even look at his friend now, but he heard the longsuffering sigh.
 
“You going to Applejack and Elusive, babbling about your dreams… that was the last straw. I haven’t been able to sleep either, Dusk. I’ve been worried about you, then I come over here and see you tossing and turning, muttering… it kinda freaked me out, you know?”
 
Rainbow leaned forward, and Dusk felt the full weight of his concerned stare.
 
“This is something big, isn’t it Dusk? You know me: I can never leave a friend hanging. I want in on this. I want all of us in so we can help.”
 
In the back of his mind, Dusk felt only the slightest bit indignant that Rainbow lacked so much common courtesy to just stand there and watch his friend sleep; what weighed on him now was far more important than that.
 
“I… I had the dream again,” Dusk said in a husky whisper. “Just before you got here. I’m going back to Canterlot as soon as I can, Rainbow. I need Artemis’ help with this. I came back so I could do exactly what you want: talk to all of you about it. I was going to let you all know the moment I stepped off the carriage, but when I got back I was just so confused! I mean, the Princes believed me, but that somehow made it worse!”
 
Dusk buried his face in his hooves. “They believed me, so this really is something big. But I just don’t know if it’s something good.”
 
“If it’s not,” Rainbow said, coming forward to put a hoof on Dusk’s shoulder, “then we’ll deal with it. We beat Nightterror Nebula. We helped beat Sombra, Metamorphosis, and lots of other things. You know we got what it takes when we do things together.”
 
Dusk lowered his hooves, dragging them down his face and staring at the gently burning candle. “You’re right, Rainbow,” he murmured, “you’re right. I’ve been avoiding you guys for weeks. I should’ve come to you sooner and… and all those other things I do wrong when I know I should do it otherwise.”
 
“Hey, you’re our pal,” Rainbow said with another rolling wing-shrug. “You’re allowed to screw up here and there. Solaris knows we all had a lot to learn when we first met. If something messes you up this bad, I can forgive a bit of weird behavior. You remember how I was during the Best Young Flyers Competition.”
 
Dusk couldn’t hold back a burbling, sputtering laugh. “It wasn’t that long ago,” he said, “but it feels like we’ve come so far since then.”
 
“That’s because we have. Mostly because of you, Dusk. I mean it, don’t look so modest, bro. You came here and pretty much forced us to realize our potential. Our real potential.” He gave Dusk a gentle pat on the back. “So you’ll talk to all of us tomorrow?”
 
“Yeah… Yeah, I think I will. In fact, do you think everypony’d mind if you all came with me, to Canterlot? We should be in this together. If the Princes are involved, it’s definitely important enough that the Elements should be close by.”
 
“Now you’re talkin’!” Rainbow crowed, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder which was followed by a prodigious yawn. “Hey, Dusk, can I crash here tonight? Staying up all day worrying really wears a pony out.”

Dusk smiled. “Sure, Rainbow. Just no midnight snacks this time.”

“Sheesh, eat one slice of pie and you pay for it forever...” 

Dusk led the way back upstairs and dragged out a pile of throw pillows for Rainbow, who draped himself over them. Dusk retired to his bed and eschewed his sweaty blanket, staring at the ceiling as he struggled to drift off. Maybe Spines could sleep through Rainbow’s snoring, but Dusk had to pull out some earplugs to make it bearable. Somehow he felt more alone now. In the dark, he found himself wishing that Rainbow had instead stayed up, that he hadn’t blindly promised to talk to all of them in the morning. 

But it wasn’t morning yet. He still had to sleep. He knew he’d face the dream again, where she waited.

“Who are you?” he wondered aloud. “What are you doing to me?”

He wavered between two inexorable longings: to see her again and give the dream a chance to turn out differently, and terrified of the implications if it did not. He might very well be having some kind of mental breakdown, doomed to long for the strange mare without ever seeing her, forever stretching himself over an abyss of uncertainty, the short distance between them stretching for miles. The need was always there, but to never be satisfied like a desert wanderer following rain clouds that never gave a single drop was a thought he couldn’t bear. And yet, just for the chance, the sheer tiny hope that this time it might be different, that she might finally hear how he shouted himself hoarse and galloped to cover the five feet that separated them—he’d managed to calculate it having seen the dream so many times—he hoped the dream never went away.

In the nauseating grey space between terrified and unable to resist, he fell asleep.

He saw her again as he knew he would, and awoke in another cold, uncomfortable sweat just as dawn was breaking, though to him it seemed only a few seconds had passed and he didn’t feel rested whatsoever. With a dreary sigh he roused Spines and Rainbow Blitz, intent on keeping his promise.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

-----------------

Twilight Sparkle did not return to Canterlot that day. Rainbow Dash’s nighttime visit hadn’t gone unappreciated. In fact, she was already on her way to explain to her friends exactly what was going on and what she’d need help with. They’d agreed to meet under the same little tree where most of their gatherings took place; the very same spot where they’d watch the meteor showers Luna graced Equestria with every so often.

She kept the actual subject of the meeting a secret, but she didn’t doubt that most of them had figured it out already. The sight of all her friends congregated under the tree before she even arrived, speaking to each other in quiet voices, didn’t assuage her concerns. Seeing Pinkie Pie jump up and open a picnic basket that covered everypony in confetti was a welcome reminder that in spite of the gravity of her problem, she could count on her friends to be as consistent and faithful as they always were.

“Here she comes!” she heard Rarity stage-whisper to the rest of them, and Pinkie Pie became a blur as she threw the rest of the picnic basket’s contents out on a hastily spread blanket: hay seed sandwiches with liberal spreads of jelly, salads of every kind of grass imaginable, and of course cakes and pastries to outnumber them all.

“Hi Twilight!” she squeaked as she threw down a plate of lemon meringue and then adopted a nonchalant posture as if she hadn’t just been tossing food around. Twilight saw beads of sweat running down her neck. “Wow, what a great day for a picnic, huh? Isn’t that just the funniest word? Picnic, picnic, pick-a-nic! Is it because ponies actually try to pick out food at a picnic? Like somepony has to be picky at a picnic when you got a spread like this! The very thought! Ha ha ha ha!”

“It’s all right, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight replied, waving off her antics. “I know you’re all a little anxious and my behavior hast just been making it worse. Rest assured I’m going to change that right now.”

“What is it, sugarcube?” Applejack pressed, but she and Rarity knew full well what the matter was already.

Twilight’s stomach growled. She remembered she hadn’t eaten breakfast and licked her lips.

“Well... nothing we should talk about on an empty stomach,” she said with a sheepish smile.

Pinkie Pie let out a heavy sigh of relief. “And I thought I’d dragged all this stuff out here for nothing! It took me ages to figure out how to keep the eclairs from getting squashed by the crumpets!”

And so, heartened by the presence of her friends and the keen, comforting waves of Harmony that washed over them all, Twilight and company sat down to enjoy the meal Pinkie prepared for them.

Though it was clear her friends wanted Twilight to flesh out her fears, they wanted her to feel at ease much more. They talked shop in the case of Rarity and Applejack, they shot the breeze with Rainbow Dash, and they frittered away the time with Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie’s charming stories. 

It was so normal, so full of good wishes and homely simplicity that Twilight very nearly forgot about her problem. But in the end, that just made it even harder; she wished this moment didn’t need to be spoiled by the whatever-it-was that plagued her. The unfairness of it was only accentuated by the indifference and ambiguity Celestia herself gave her problem; something as serious as this didn’t deserve a place in their lighthearted circle of friends. She kept all their conversations going for far longer than they needed to, asking pointless questions about the finer points of Rarity’s sewing and Rainbow Dash’s flight techniques, and even though the others caught on eventually they didn’t begrudge her for it. Fluttershy especially was content not to rush into the disturbing bits, speaking endlessly about her animals and her misadventures in the marketplace.

To any other pony it was frivolity, but to Twilight Sparkle it was a lifesaving shield, something to ward off the inevitable change that she somehow knew in the bottom of her heart her strange dreams were bringing.

But in spite of the pall that hung over them, all their smiles were genuine and their eyes held nothing but compassion. Each little smile through a mouthful of food, every shared glance over a half-eaten danish carried a painful prick of love and guilt at the same time.

When most of the plates held nothing but crumbs and they were half-heartedly poking at their salads, Twilight Sparkle got down to business.

“It’s time I told you what’s really been bothering me,” she said with a gentle sigh, letting the happiness of the moment flow out of her to be replaced by the driving impulse to explain, to make her issues known. She told them everything. She told them about how the dreams began suddenly and without explanation, how they always involved the same mystery colt, how it seemed like she knew him so well that he might as well be her. She told them about the strange feelings surrounding the dreams, and how Princess Celestia tried to talk her out of believing in them.

“The dreams,” she finished, “are real. Celestia confirmed as much when I spoke to her.”

“Then... is the colt real?” Fluttershy murmured.

Twilight shook her head. “I’m not sure. All I know is that the Princesses thought the dreams warranted some attention, enough that Luna herself will help me try to be rid of them. Tonight, if she can make it. I want to resolve this as quickly as any other pony.”

“We’ll be there for you,” said Rarity, laying her hoof over Twilight’s. “Whatever this is, darling, you needn’t face it alone.”

“I have for a while, and it hasn’t been working,” Twilight said with a grimace. “I would love for you all to be there when this little... thought experiment plays out. I’ve never dabbled in dream magic before; maybe Luna can give me some fresh insights. Maybe she’ll even be able to enter the dream herself, and see what it is that’s bothering me. Maybe then Celestia will...”

She trailed off with a little gasp, a hitch in her throat that made her stop and think. Celestia’s actions had bothered her more than anything else, and she still couldn’t shake them. The Princess had never, ever been disinclined to help her learn before. It was like being talked down to, or even rejected.

The Sun had nearly set. Had they really been out here so long?

“She’ll be here soon,” Twilight whispered, her thoughts distant, “I sent the letter through Spike before I came here.”

Fluttershy gave her a look of doe-eyed concern. “You don’t need more time to get ready?”

“By all indications I’m going to have the dream again tonight no matter what,” Twilight said with a grimace, her shoulders slumping. “I want to figure out what’s happening. If Luna can give me some answers, I want them now instead of later.”

Rainbow Dash put her hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “We’re here for ya, Twi.”

Without a word they gathered up the remnants of the picnic and followed Twilight back to the library. Spike waited near the door, fidgeting and twiddling his claws in the looming dusk. He jumped at his keeper the moment she stepped inside. “Twilight! It’s almost time. I got your pillow extra fluffed, and I’ve been keeping some warm milk by the bed, you know, just in case you needed help sleeping. I even got out your Smarty Pants doll just in case you needed her—”

Twilight placed a hoof on Spike’s head and ruffled his scales fondly. “Don’t worry about it, Spike. Luna’s a master at this kind of thing, she’ll probably just cast a spell and I’ll go right to sleep. She should be here any minute, so let’s get inside.”

Applejack tugged on the brim of her hat. “Well, then I reckon we ain’t goin’ nowhere. I already told Mac he’ll have ta’ handle the farm tonight. If we’re goin’ ta’ face some weird dreamscape, I wanna be there ta’ help.”

“That will not be possible, Applejack,” said a smooth voice that echoed all around them.

The gathered ponies and dragon jumped as a mist enshrouded one corner of the library, and from its swirling indigo depths stepped Princess Luna.

“Little ponies, this dream is Twilight’s alone to confront,” she said in a stern voice. “To change the nature of the dream by adding your consciousness could prove disastrous. Dreams are fickle; I cannot summon them, but merely observe and influence them as best I can. It may not come if you all are present for it.”

“With all due respect, Princess,” Twilight spoke up, “I don’t think anything we do will stop it. Its regularity, its unchanging nature... I’m starting to question whether it’s a true dream at all.”

Luna stared down at Twilight without inclining her head. “Then it is all the more imperative your friends do not accompany us. The mind is a place of powerful secrets, Twilight Sparkle, and none of them should be revealed lightly, not even to friends as close as yours.”

Twilight gritted her teeth and puffed out her chest. “Princess Luna,” she said in a voice she prayed was as subservient as it was unflinching, “the first time I came to you and Celestia about this, I was told that these dreams were of little importance and you were here to help me get rid of them. Now I hear you telling me that it’s of the utmost importance that the secrets of my mind stay secret... at least where my friends are concerned.”

Without thinking, she took a step forward. And another. She was advancing on the Princess of the Night. Any other day, she might have told herself she was going insane and stopped. Today she fully embraced that insanity because it was hers, and it was the only thing she had to cling to for answers right now.

“For the last several weeks I’ve been plagued by a dream that refuses to leave me alone. Every night I go to sleep afraid. Every morning I wake up in the same cold sweat. Every day I wander around my library, puttering like an old maid, knowing that something is missing and I can’t find it, or even remember what wants to be found no matter how hard I try. I’m sleep deprived, I’m upset with how I’ve been treating my friends, and I have no idea what Celestia was trying to tell me when she said that what’s going on is so unimportant yet needs to be erased from my mind.”

She stopped a mere step away from Luna’s hooves, staring up at the Princess even as the Ruler of the Moon stared impassively back at her.

“Now you tell me that the Elements of Harmony are no help and have no place in my dreams? When they’re the ones that kept me together over the last year and a half? When they’re the ones who put your mind back together?”

She shook her head, trembling at her own tenacity. Luna didn’t seem fazed, but Twilight felt scandalized enough for the both of them. 

“I want to know what’s going on,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument, “and I want my friends to be there to help me.”

Silence reigned in the library as the other ponies watched the confrontation in awkward silence. Fluttershy hid under Rainbow’s wing, squeaking out incoherent apologies to Princess Luna over and over again. Nopony moved. Outside, the Sun’s light disappeared and the stars began to twinkle to life.

At last, Luna exhaled, and from her nostrils came more of the indigo fog that heralded her arrival. It washed over Twilight’s snout and face, brushed through her mane like fingers, and caressed her back. It wasn’t cold, nor was it warm, but it did feel safe. Like a dozen tiny snakes it coiled around Twilight’s body, feeling less like a fog and more like a space: a block of reality coursing over her.

“So be it, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna intoned, and the fog reached out to swirl around the hooves of her friends. “You extended the hoof of friendship to me, and I cannot refuse you the same courtesy to the other Bearers of the Elements. You will not be alone on this journey. Perhaps it is for the best. To seek a dream is no easy feat, and to expunge it even more so.”

The fog expanded of its own accord, swallowing the floor of the library. Spike yelped and jumped on Twilight’s back as Luna continued to speak.

“But know this. There are things in this world not even the Elements command. Your mind is an infinite place that reaches as far as imagination can go. The pleasures and wonder that reside within are limitless.”

The fog rose up, engulfing the entire library and smothering Twilight’s sight. Luna’s voice cut through it just the same.

“And the terrors and horror know no boundaries.”

Twilight’s eyes closed without her meaning to.

“The Night has begun, Twilight Sparkle. Sleep now, and dream.”

Spike’s weight was no longer on Twilight’s back. The floor vanished from under her hooves. She had the vague sensation of falling in slow motion, down into the fathomless reaches of something that felt both intimately familiar and terrifyingly alien.

She stopped when she struck something soft and pliable.

She opened her eyes.

----------------------

“So that’s a teleportation sigil, huh?” Applejack asked, rubbing his chin with his hoof.

Dusk Shine cleared his throat. “Yep, that’s pretty much it.”

“An’ now we got Bubble Berry’s lunch all over the floor.”

“Eeyup,” Dusk Shine said. “The, ah, castle staff should take care of that.”

The rest of the group took turns comforting a still disoriented Bubble Berry and trying to figure out just where they had ended up. Dusk Shine’s first attempt at a teleportation sigil transit had nothing technically wrong with it, but only halfway through the shifting tunnel of arcane madness did he remember he was the only one of the group with experience in teleportation. Bubble Berry’s stomach definitely did not qualify.

They were somewhere in the castle, of that they could be certain from the lavish tapestries and long hallway lined with expensive busts. On one side of the hall there were windows run through with expensive iron patterning that looked over some kind of courtyard.

Dusk Shine glanced down at the teleportation sigil at his hooves, now a complex stain of ash and melted marble on the castle’s immaculate floor. Maybe his exit vector could have been adjusted by drawing the third leyline perpendicular to the astral glyphs, but his lack of sleep had precluded a perfect first test.

“Well, with magic that powerful going off in Canterlot, at least it won’t be long before the Princes find us,” he told the others.

“We were already waiting.”

Out of the shadow of a half-closed curtain strode Prince Artemis. The Prince of the Night spared only a single glance at the mess Bubble Berry made on the floor, and with a flash of his horn it vanished in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.

“Dusk Shine,” he said with a gentle smile, “I am greatly pleased the sigil was not outside your abilities.”

Dusk bowed down. “I learned from the best.”

Artemis nodded down the hall and started walking, forcing the others to keep pace. “Come, all of you. Talk with me.”

“Where’s Solaris?” asked Dusk Shine.

“About,” said Artemis. “Now, then. I assume you’ve all had ample time to learn what you can of Dusk’s plight?”

“As much as he knows now,” said Elusive. He walked close to Artemis and imitated the Prince’s royal bearing, keeping his head up and his chest out. “We had a very fine talk earlier today about it.”

“That is well,” said Artemis. “The bonds of friendship are the tethers that keep any mind under stress from snapping.” He took a deep, slow breath. “I would know that as well as anypony.”

The air took on a distinct chill near the Prince. Everypony felt a carpet of solemnity unfurl from around Artemis, seeming to darken the gentle, cool light of the Moon outside. Dusk bit his lip, remembering they day they had purged Nightterror from Artemis’ mind, how the Prince looked so small and broken as he begged for forgiveness. The Prince had since regained his nobility and power, but even now he looked resigned and dismal. The hallway echoed with nothing but the gentle clip-clop of their hooves for several long, awkward minutes.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, yer Highness,” Applejack began, but Artemis shook his head.

“I apologize; this isn’t about me. Dusk Shine, did you manage to get a look at the books Solaris recommended?”

Dusk skipped a step when spoken to; he was still lost in his own thoughts. “Yesterday, before I left. They weren’t as much help as I thought they might be...” he trailed off to a murmur.

Artemis just smiled. “Eventide was quite an eccentric pony, from what I’ve read. She lived during the thousand years between my exile and return. Solaris told me she was proud and secluded, and though her potential suffered for it she nonetheless pioneered the art of dream-seeing for the common pony. I may one day have helpers of my own in the dreamtime.” His smile dropped as he glanced over his shoulder at the others. “But you are not common ponies, and this is not a common dream, which is why I ask that tonight I be your guide. Dream-seeing is a precise and delicate art that is not easily replicated.”

Bubble, sufficiently recovered from his episode, jumped up so high he was eye-level with Artemis, startling the Prince and stopping him mid-step. “I think that’d be totally super-duper-rific! The Master of Dreams himself taking us all on some crazy dream ride? Sign me up!”

Artemis raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder at all the others. “You... all wish to accompany Dusk Shine into his dreams?”

Bubble kept bouncing along, utterly impervious to the suggestion that they should stay behind. “Your Highness, I totally don’t mean any disrespect at all, but like, duh! We’re Dusk Shine’s friends, and friends always stick together no matter whatever forever ever, especially when one of those friends is having creepy crazy nightmares!”

Artemis looked back at all the other ponies in turn, and Dusk felt his heart swell as each and every one boldly—except for Butterscotch, who had to repeat himself twice—declared their intent to stick at Dusk’s side, come what may.

Artemis looked straight ahead again, and Dusk noticed a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. “Well, then,” he muttered to himself, “that is good. Yes, very good indeed.”

He led them on past a large door covered in symbols Dusk estimated as dating to the pre-classical era, into a section of the castle Dusk didn’t recognize at all. They left the long, decorated hallways full of statues and windows, and into the dimly lit inner portions of the castle, into tight passages lit only by magical lamps and the light of Artemis’ horn. And then they passed beyond a dreary threshold surrounded by runes, and above the doorway was an ancient phrase of the very first Equestrians. It was written in a dead alphabet, but Artemis knew it well.

“Mountain hewn and heights prevailed, friendship’s fire burns forever,” said the Prince.

He led them into the dark passage beyond, and Dusk saw the stone was not Canterlot’s white stone, but the dark rock of the mountain itself.

“We are inside the mountain now,” Artemis said in a reverent whisper. “This section of the city was built when Canterlot was founded, and there are passages that lead to the crystal caves below. I had them reopened after Metamorphosis’ attack.”

Dusk and his friends huddled close to one another as the hallway became visibly older, the decorations humbler, and the architecture more and more simple until they felt like they were wandering the passages of a medieval fort. Rails, warning signs, structural supports, and discarded tools told of the efforts Artemis was going to renovate the timeless corridors. Deeper they went until suddenly Artemis made a left turn straight into a solid wall, but as he touched it the very rock shimmered and disappeared into a violet fog. When it cleared another passage loomed ahead, and the Prince stepped inside, speaking as he walked.

“Before Nightterror Nebula, I built this place with my own four hooves and the strength of my magic. It leads to the other side of the mountain and many years ago, it served as a place where I would come and brood over my own petty desires, and dream dark dreams of the day when my Moon would overtake the Sun.” He looked back with a wry smile. “I still come here to brood, but usually only when the castle staff forgets pecans in my morning salad.”

Despite his levity, the passage was dark and shrouded, covered in astrological symbols, and it gave every noise a deep, ominous echo. Very soon they came to a set of stairs that took many twists and turns upward. Artemis led them without pausing, and the others didn’t speak except for a few hushed whispers. The stairs went on until Dusk thought they would never end when they came to an abrupt halt, and Dusk blinked rapidly as light struck his eyes from an opening ahead. They came out onto a large circular platform that extended into the open air, ringed at the edge by pillars built in the classical pegasus style, but covered in arcane symbols that even Dusk couldn’t quite recognize. Before them stretched all of Equestria to the north, east, and west. The night sky was open to them, free of clouds and errant pegasi and full of stars and nebulae and the distant cloud of the galaxy beyond.

“Whoa,” uttered Rainbow Blitz.

“Indeed,” said Artemis. “It was here Nightterror was born, where I sat and fed my bitter selfishness, and where I have sought solace since you six freed me from Nightterror’s grip. And it is here where we will make our first sojourn into the world of dreams.”

Elusive pranced in place. “I must say, there doesn’t seem to be a place better suited! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.”

Butterscotch peeked out from under his mane. “It’s a bit chilly, but I like it.”

Artemis smiled and took a deep breath of the nippy mountain air.

“Come,” the Prince said, “stand together now, and allow yourselves to join with Dusk Shine’s mind. Whatever you do, do not forget that you are not alone. Dreams are often fickle and strange, and to walk within them is something not easily mastered. Stay close to one another: Friendship will be our only guide within.”

Without any hesitation, they stood in a circle together. Artemis raised his wings and his horn began to glow, and he let out a single, solitary breath.

None of the ponies were alarmed when out of his nostrils came a strange violet fog, inside of which swirled motes of light, some brighter than others. Dusk Shine watched the fog expand without losing its coherency until it covered the entire platform. It felt strange, not like a true mist but not completely solid either. It was a tendril of space, an all new volume that came from somewhere outside Equestria. In spite of its alien nature and the way it almost consciously crawled up his legs, he didn’t feel frightened at all. 

It reached his nostrils, and he took a deep breath of it. All at once the entire world seemed to fall away from him. The weight of his own hooves pressing onto the stone platform disappeared. The fog creeped over his eyes and he was lost in an infinite expanse of gentle purples and blues, dotted by stars all around. He willingly fell into the new universe though he didn’t fully understand what was happening. He didn’t need to breathe because air simply wasn’t important anymore. He didn’t need to move, for space itself was more of a whim than a place to occupy. He tumbled and rolled through infinity, reaching out with hooves he couldn’t see.

From all around, everywhere, nowhere, inside and out, he heard Prince Artemis’ voice.

“Sleep, my little ponies. Give in to the Night that surrounds you. Do not embrace it. Rather, open yourselves to it.”

Dusk Shine stilled himself, and the weightless feeling increased until he could barely feel himself anymore.

“Let your mind take us where it will, Dusk Shine,” said Artemis’ disembodied voice, “for the Night has begun. Sleep now, and dream.”

With nothing left to hang on to, Dusk Shine let go.

And then he was somewhere else.

----------------------

The first thing Twilight Sparkle noticed was the grass under her hooves. It was soft and pliable: a perfect cushion for her sensitive hooves. In spite of the hustle and bustle involved with saving the world many times over, she was by no means an athlete and had often wished the grass around Ponyville was less coarse. The second thing she noticed was the wind in her face—that perfect breeze ones gets on top of a specific hill by the lakeside—and the light in her eyes. The world gradually formed itself around her, and all of it was familiar but disparate, perfect little parts of a greater whole.
 
When everything fell into place she stood on a lonely hill under an endless blue sky, only partly cloudy, and a bright light that came from a sun that was warm and bright enough to be comfortable, but large enough to look strange. A book was at her hooves, and although the title was gibberish she knew it was one of her favorites.
 
She opened it and read aloud, reciting basic magical theory, then transmogrification techniques, and then the recipe for creating spiced yams all in a single breath, because she was just that smart and could relate all of those subjects without even trying.
 
She heard Celestia’s voice from somewhere nearby. “My faithful student, this isn’t your dream.”
 
No, it wasn’t. Twilight raised her hoof and took a step forward. In an instant she was in a crowded lecture hall, on a stage in front an audience full of ponies whose features were undefined, but that she knew were all smiling and impressed by her diction and sound, well organized theorems. She pushed her smart looking reading glasses up the bridge of her nose and started a quick slideshow of many charts and graphs of impossible equations and ludicrous quackery, all of them created by her and all perfectly workable once you really thought about it. Every smart pony in Equestria was there, and they were all deeply impressed.
 
All of her friends sat in the front row, all wearing impeccable suits, and they all paid rapt attention to her as she described ways to bend the very fabric of reality and launch a new golden age of ponydom. Even Pinkie Pie sat still through the whole thing, and Rainbow Dash led their cheering when she was finished. Princess Celestia sat in the far back, in a box seat, and smiled warmly down at her.
 
“No,” she said, “this isn’t it either.”
 
She sat at a candlelit table with a dapper young colt at an expensive eatery, and they blushed and smiled while discussing the finer points of leyline interaction and the methodology of establishing connections between specific arcane focal points.
 
“Pull back, Twilight,” he urged her, “we are not looking for what you want. We are looking for you.”
 
A warm, pillow-filled room in Canterlot, a view of the cosmos, a comet rushing by, the surface of the Sun, and a simple, small place where there was only her and her friends.
 
Princess Luna sighed next to her. “This is all very superficial. We must broaden our view past the limited desires of the subconscious ego. We must find what has been affecting every part of you, Twilight. I’m afraid this is going to start to hurt.”
 
“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, and with a startled gasp she realized she had actually meant to say that. Conscious, rational thinking smacked into her like a brick wall, and then she realized she had actually just run into a solid wall.
 
“Ow!” she squeaked, rubbing her nose. “What—?”
 
She looked upwards and noticed they stood at the center of Canterlot Castle’s main courtyard, and she had just run into its outer wall. The pure white stone stretched upwards into an orange sky covered by dark clouds. The towers and balustrades were taller than she remembered, and the grass and trees that surrounded them were yellow and dry. Dead leaves swirled all around, crackling and rustling, but there was no wind that carried them.
 
“Come,” said Luna, and she headed for the great door that led into the castle. It loomed overhead like a titan. “Now that we are free of the whims of your lower mind, we will be able to properly traverse the dreamscape. We must keep moving, and quickly.”
 
“Where are the others?”
 
Luna turned and pointed at Twilight’s chest. “They are with you. They are you, Twilight Sparkle. This is your dream. Concentrate, and give them voices of their own.”
 
She scrunched her eyes shut, and when she opened them again all her friends stood before her.
 
“Whoa nelly!” Applejack moaned, holding her head at the temples. “Please don’t tell me we gotta go through that again!”
 
Pinkie Pie laughed, bouncing in place. “I thought it was fun!”
 
“Twilight, was that the D-Lux Café on Fourth Street?” Rarity asked. “I could tell you any number of places far better suited for a date.”
 
“I feel kinda sick,” Rainbow Dash groaned, lying on the dry ground and clutching her stomach.
 
“I felt… trapped,” Fluttershy mumbled, looking vaguely horrified.
 
Princess Luna brushed past them all. “That is to be expected. Here, many things are completely at the whim of Twilight’s desires and fears… including Twilight herself. In a manner of speaking, you saw life through Twilight’s eyes, if only for a short time. You shared her desires, hopes, and idle fantasies. Some disorientation is normal for such an out of body experience.”
 
“Let’s not do it again,” Rainbow suggested as she staggered to her hooves. “You’re cool and all, Twi, but sharing your brain was like a bad roller coaster ride.”

“We had to ensure that nothing corrupted the mind of the dreamer,” said Luna, “lest there be unintended consequences. Keeping you safe within the confines of Twilight’s mind ensured she would dream only her dreams. Now all of you stay close, or you will be lost to us until Twilight awakes.”

She went straight to the great doors of the castle and pushed them open—with her hooves and not her magic, Twilight noted—before stepping inside. Within was a perfectly symmetrical, perfectly proportioned grand hall of stone pillars, square floor tiles, an arched ceiling, and rectangular stained glass windows. It was evening outside, and moonlight filtered through the windows, some of which portrayed events that Twilight recognized as important times from her childhood. Others illustrated nonsensical sequences of gibberish, full of half-formed images and eerie patterns in explosions of color.

Rainbow Dash huffed. “This is already getting weird. How are we supposed to know where to go?”

“We do not. Twilight does,” answered Luna. 

The others looked expectantly to Twilight.

“Oh,” she said, raising a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, um... I think... gosh, Princess, what do I do?”

The Princess closed her eyes and sat down on her haunches. “Remember the feeling from your dream. Concentrate hard upon it and the dreamscape will adjust itself accordingly.”

Twilight bit her lip and furrowed her brow, uncertain. She remembered well enough the feelings the dream elicited and wasn’t sure if she wanted to relive it. But her friends had come here to help her. To back out now wouldn’t honor their faithfulness. 

“I’ll try,” she said, her small voice echoing across the grand hall. She sat down and closed her eyes.

The sound of her friends screaming made her jerk and her eyelids flew open. No, no they didn’t, they weren’t there anymore. Nothing was there anymore! She stood in a vast dark space where nothingness swirled in great eddies around her, and feelings and emotions assaulted her from all directions. She kicked with hooves that didn’t exist and ran to places that never were, panicking and laughing and crying and whispering all at once. She was here and there and nowhere at all, and she had a voice and form that couldn’t sense and yet felt everything.

“Princess!” she called out without a mouth. “Help! Help!”

“Calm yourself, Twilight Sparkle,” came the Princess’ voice, deep and magically commanding. “This is your dream. You have control of it. Concentrate.”

She stood still. More than that, she made herself certain of the fact that she was standing still in a recognizable, rational spot.

“That’s it,” said Luna, “ground yourself. Remember what you are doing and where you are going.”

“I...” Twilight began, and shocked herself when she found she had a mouth with which to speak again. “Okay. Start simple. Stay calm. I am calm... I am... here.”

“Yes,” the Princess encouraged her. “You are here. We all are, aren’t we?”

Twilight confirmed it with a nod of her head and a rush of conviction. 

Everypony’s here. Everypony’s fine. 

One by one, six lights flickered into being before her eyes—could she call them eyes, or was that important now?—and settled into a semi-circle around her. Pink, blue, purple, orange, yellow, and a deep midnight blue.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!” said the blue light. “What the hay is going on?!”

The yellow light flickered. “St-stay calm, everypony. Twilight got us back. R-right?”

“Calm yourselves, all of you,” Luna said. “Let Twilight think. We are in transit: her mind has not formed the dream around us yet.”

Twilight gulped, or at least she thought she did, as she realized the implications of what happened. Her own panic had nearly sent her friends spiraling off into oblivion. But a dutiful protectiveness overwhelmed her guilt as she resolved to do better and keep them all here. Just the sight of them, or the feeling, or the idea of them, or whatever was going on, gave her strength and purpose.

“Sorry, everypony,” she muttered, hanging an imaginary head. “I didn’t know I had that kind of control here.”

“No need ta’ apologize, sugarcube,” came Applejack’s comfortingly deep voice. “We’re all kinda new ta’ this.”

“Goodness!” said Rarity. “I had no idea that dreams were such tumultuous things.”

“Be glad you cannot remember the majority of them,” said Luna, her voice losing the air of magical command. “I have not had many that I care to dwell on. Now then, Twilight. You must concentrate on the dream that caused all of this. Remember the feelings it evoked, the images in your mind’s eye, and bring us there.”

“We’re with you, Twi!” Rainbow cheered. “Whatever happens, we won’t leave you hanging!” 

Twilight reached out with invisible hooves and felt the warmth of her friends. Their closeness gave her strength, realigning her thoughts and giving her focus. She saw her mind stretch into straight paths shooting off into the unknown, and began the task of figuring out which was the one she needed.

A feeling of nostalgia—or was it loss?—gnawed at her mind, taunting and teasing, begging and pleading. An empty space waited for her. A presence that refused to be ignored. She reached for it.

“Focus, Twilight,” she heard Luna say, and her voice reverberated from within instead of being heard from without. “Open yourself to the dream’s influence. Stay calm!”

The feelings grew ever more tangible. Twilight flew down the corridor now, pulling her friends in her wake. She felt herself losing control, going faster and faster, heading towards a great barrier in her mind that stretched across the width and breadth of the hall.

“Twilight!” Luna called behind her. “Do not lose yourself! You are going too far! Something isn’t right!”

But Twilight didn’t listen. Something drew her like a tether hooked into her mind, and she knew her friends felt it too. None of them seemed to notice Luna’s warning, and none of them tried to slow her as she rushed headlong into whatever drew them all. The feelings only grew stronger as they went, and Twilight gradually became aware of the sensation of movement, the sound of her hooves striking a stone floor, and the sound of her breathing in her chest, eager and deep. The lights behind her grew stronger, and she became aware of her friends as well, all of them swept up in Twilight’s emotional slipstream, eyes wide with an instinctive anxiety, something deep inside them telling them to go closer, to unlock and discover and befriend.

But there was something else too. Twilight pushed it away, feeling entirely overwhelmed by the proximity of her fellow mystery dreamer.

And then they came to a barrier. It was an imposing wall of blackness that barred her way down the dream hall, and she screeched to a halt directly in front of it. The others gathered around her, silent and still. They didn’t know what to make of it, but somehow Twilight knew they felt the same as she did. Whatever was beyond called to her, needing her to break down the wall and come through. Their uncertainty was subsumed by their desire to see. 

“This is it,” she said. “This is the same thing that’s in my dream. I’m standing right in front of my dream! This is what’s been keeping me from seeing him!”

“Is that it?” Applejack asked in a hushed, awed voice. “Gosh, that weren’t so difficult.”

“It feels strange,” Rarity murmured, “but beautiful at the same time.”

“We gotta get through,” said Rainbow Dash, emphatically stamping her hoof.

She turned and looked at her friends, who all had bodies of their again, but not their normal ones. These new forms seemed as pure and bright as when the Crystal Heart’s magic swept over them. Everypony glowed bright as stars the same color as their Elements while motes of light shaped like their cutie marks swirled gaily around them.

She gasped. “The Elements. They’re reacting to something!” She turned back to the barrier, and felt the weight of her tiara drop down on her head. Magic hummed insistently, the sound seeming to intensify the longer she stared at the barrier. Something, somepony, was behind it. This was the veil from her dreams that had kept her from knowing what ailed her. All they had to do was get through it and she’d have her answers.

“Girls,” she whispered, “come here. I need you all for this.”

“Twilight!” Luna shouted from down the hall. Her face was twisted with fear and loathing. Something seemed to be repulsing her, something she couldn’t bear to be near. “No! Don’t! Get away from there!”

Twilight shook her head. “This is it, Princess. This is what we were here to find, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t expect this!” Luna pleaded, less a ruler and more a normal pony ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. “Twilight, you must trust me: that thing is dangerous! Come away from there and let us be rid of it! Use the Elements to purge it from your mind!”

“Look at us, Princess!” Twilight snapped, gesturing at herself and her friends who stood nearby, united and glowing with their radiant Harmony. “The Elements can’t destroy anything! They never do! They didn’t kill you and they won’t get rid of this, whatever it is! This is what Magic was trying to tell me about. Are you saying the Elements are wrong? Why is this so dangerous?”

“Twilight, I swear, I will tell you everything if you just let me by. We are not safe here!”

She took a step forward. Magic lit up on Twilight’s brow and threw her back with a pulse of light. Luna staggered, looking betrayed and indignant.

“How dare you,” she growled at the Element instead of the pony wearing it, her horn glowing angrily. “I am trying to protect her!”

“From what?!” Twilight shot back. “What’s inside of me that I have to be so scared of? What’s behind this wall?!”

Luna shook her head, turning to the others. “You must listen to me: Twilight is not in her right mind. I didn’t know what we’d find down here, but this is the last thing I wanted to see! You must trust me. That barrier is here for a reason: it cannot come down! It feeds on your knowledge of it! If I tell you now, we won’t be able to stop it! We must close the door before it’s too late!”

Twilight snorted, unable to bear Luna trying to turn her own friends against her. Her thoughts had never been more clear! Whatever was behind this veil was what they were here to find! Her friends wouldn’t make her turn back now. It was for that reason she felt a shiver of relief when the others didn’t leap to support the Princess.

“I feel funny, Princess Luna,” Pinkie Pie began, “like the funny I did when the Elements first lit up. I don’t think it’s a bad kind of funny.”

“Far be it from me to defy the will of a Princess,” Rarity added, “but just look at us! I feel it in my heart: Generosity is speaking to me like it never has before! We came here for something important, and now it’s so close. I’ve never felt so certain, but of what I cannot begin to imagine...”

“The Elements have always been honest with us,” Applejack agreed. “Don’t you think you’re jumpin’ the gun a little here, Princess?”

Luna looked desperately at the others. Fluttershy just kept her eyes closed, aloof to the whole affair and basking in Kindness. Rainbow Dash had her forehooves crossed over her chest, chewing her lip. At last she came to a decision with a flippant shrug and fluttered closer to Twilight.

“Loyalty’s important,” she said, “but only when it’s to the right cause.”

“I don’t believe this!” Luna shouted, stomping her hoof as she lost the last shred of Princessly composure. “I am the Ruler of the Night! The Mover of the Moon and master of dreams! I have lived a hundred lifetimes and wielded the Elements against enemies you cannot hope to comprehend! I will not be talked down to by novices in the ways of Harmony! Twilight Sparkle, come away from there before you do something everypony will regret!”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “The only thing I’m regretting is letting you in here.”

The gentle student inside her balked at her own insolence. The mare that had never been so sure of herself shouted the other side down. Twilight didn’t know if she had always been this brash, or if she was finally lashing out against all the times the Princesses had asked so much of her and to accept it all so blindly. She didn’t feel guilty or remorseful for talking this way, not when she wanted, needed a demand of her own. She knew what she was doing with a conviction even greater than when she had suspected Cadance of wrongdoing; and hadn’t she been right and all the others wrong then? Hadn’t she been the one to uncover the legend of Nightmare Moon, hadn’t she been the one smart enough to befriend Luna first? At what point was the trust going to go both ways?

She bowed her head, trying to rein in her reeling emotions. “I’ve spent my whole life learning. I know more than anypony else that knowledge can be dangerous. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to shy away from it, not even because you tell me to.”

“Think of Celestia!”

Twilight’s eyes flew open. “If she wanted me to learn, she’d give me the freedom to do it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. Magical energy exploded outward again in a radiant bloom of light, swirling all around her like a shield. The thought of Celestia’s fake, tired smile ignited her anger all over again, and here in her mind where she was in control, she would have none of that doubt and condescension from a pony she thought of as a second mother.

Princess Luna’s eyes narrowed, and Twilight felt the full force of her authority bearing down on her mind. This was a strange magic unique to the Princesses, one she had only ever seen and never felt. Luna was willing her to submit, forcing her to comply. Twilight shuddered fiercely, but she felt the warm, comforting presence of Magic buoying her up, pushing her back into the ring and giving her the strength to stand. This was where she said no. This was where her destiny became truly hers.

“This is my mind,” she said with a note of dread finality, “and my dream. I’m sorry, Princess, I really am. But I have to know what this is.”

With a great exertion of willpower, she ripped her gaze away from the Princess, feeling something tangible tear between them. She turned back to the barrier, and her horn began to glow as she reached into the impenetrable shadow.

The moment she did, she regretted it.

A stabbing pain lanced down her horn and straight into her skull, spreading out like the roots of a tree until it wrapped around her brain and dug straight into her soul. Magic’s call became a banshee wail and then a painful, rending screech as something rode her lifeforce down to scorch her deep inside. She instinctively tried to push the horrid vice away with a burst of magic, but it felt like the ghastly claws just held all the tighter, tearing her mind apart like paper. Twilight couldn’t be certain whether the horrible grating noise came from the attacker, or from her own throat as she screamed in pain and fright. Something pulled hard on her conscious mind, yanking her back from the wall no matter how she kicked and yelled, and she felt a sensation like she was falling into herself.

She attempted to call out to her friends, to do as Luna instructed and find another part of her dream to take shelter in, anything to remove the agonizing hooks digging into her skull, but nothing worked. She was pulled and dragged through the shadows of her own dreamscape, feeling like her very horn was being pulled out of her skull. But in the midst of the madness, she saw several things flash before her eyes at once.

The ruined Castle of the Two Sisters, deep in the Everfree. A strange mountain with an old fortress at its peak. A map of strange, arcane symbols she couldn’t understand. The stars in the sky, wheeling overhead, and then coalescing into a bright, searing light that crashed down upon her and destroyed everything in sight—

And then it stopped.

Twilight saw darkness at first. But she was aware of the weight of her body and her eyes moving behind her lids. She flicked her tail and took a deep breath.

She was awake.

Her eyelids slid up and she beheld the walls of her own library still shrouded by nightfall. The sight of dark shelves and well organized books comforted her after the nightmarish experience. As she came to, she felt her head pounding and a stabbing hot pain coming from the base of her horn, burning like an angry fire. Feeling more tired than she’d ever felt in her life, Twilight lifted her hoof and gingerly touched her head where horn met skull. It felt damp and warm.

In front of her she saw the long legs of Princess Luna step into view, and heard Luna’s voice as if from a distance.

“I am sorry Twilight Sparkle, but I could not allow you to go any further. Very rarely have I severed the connection of a dreamer to their dream so abruptly, but you left me no choice. I will take my leave of you now, as I do not believe you wish to be near me after what I have done. But first...”

A gentle, cool glow embraced Twilight. Her headache immediately receded, but not entirely.

“That should help you to recover from your ordeal. In the meantime, rest. Your friends will see you abed when they wake, and a doctor from Canterlot will be here tomorrow.”

Twilight tried to say something, but her throat was dry and her thoughts were still blurry and unfocused from the harrowing experience. Instead of words she managed a half-hearted gurgle; she was too tired and disoriented to do any more. Luna went on.

“I give you this one final warning, Twilight Sparkle. Do not attempt to find that dream again. I have placed a lock upon the memory of it, and should you try to undo it, you will fail. I offer my deepest apologies, Twilight. You did not deserve this, but what you were doing could not be allowed. I hope that one day you will understand.”

Twilight reached out for Luna’s leg, grunting like an animal, but the Princess’ form dissolved into a mist that quickly vanished.

Twilight’s hoof dropped to the floor.

It was smeared with blood. Twilight felt more oozing down the side of her head, dribbling into the cracks and spreading over the floor. It dripped into her eyes, but she felt too empty inside to do anything about it. She lay there utterly still, watching it spill over her eyes drop by drop until her fading vision was painted red.

> Breakdown
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time didn’t matter to Dusk Shine. He didn’t notice the passing of seconds, minutes, or hours. As far as he was concerned there was no time, only an eternal moment frozen around him like a waterfall stopped in time. Consciousness was a matter of circumstance, and he flitted in and out consciousness. Every time his eyes opened the crystal landscape was thrown into sharp relief and exploded with color. He saw white and gold and blue and purple, and felt something incredibly soft beneath him.

I am here.

Very often he retreated from the painfully sharp world outside to behind the shelter of his eyelids, into the fuzzy white domain that ruled his mind. In that place he was safe. He couldn’t move, but that didn’t matter: he didn’t feel himself anyway. Every so often he became vaguely aware of a sharp stabbing sensation far, far away. When his eyes opened it got closer and grew larger until it blotted out his other senses, making him squeeze his eyes shut and retreat again from the color and overwhelming feelings into the soft white space.

I am hurt.

The eternal moment of suffering and sinking into himself was interrupted by a sound. The outside world rudely crashed into his repose, making him wince. He liked it better when things were simple and all he knew was the white place and the distant pain. The sounds were at once familiar and intrusive, as if there were plugs around his ears being abruptly ripped away, letting noise in like a flood.

“How do we know he’s awake?”

“He is, after a fashion. We just can’t see it. See how his eyes flutter, the poor thing?”

“I hate waiting.”

“As do I.”

“He has to get better, Lucy.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The white space filled everything up again. After a time he felt it safe to open his eyes just a little bit, and though the pain caught up to him again he felt different. Something was close by that made him feel safe and warm, and it brought the pain to heel and forced it back until it was distant once again.

“Shh,” another sound told him, softer and deeper than the others, “it’s all right, Dusk. Go back to sleep.”

And so he did.

The moment he was frozen in didn’t stretch on, but outward, as if its lingering increased its presence until it was all he was aware of. Time slowed to a halt as he reached a deeper part of the dream and didn’t come back out. A great many feelings and sounds and shapes came and went, drifting in and out of perception like fish in a murky ocean. Hazy, half-formed images of old friends surfaced every now and then. He thought he heard Mother’s voice once, but it faded into unimportant noise like everything else. The moment stayed around him like a protective bubble and he sat unmoved and cozy in the midst of it.

And then, without warning, the moment ended.

All of a sudden he was aware of his own body once again. It was stretched out and slack, without any strength in its muscles. He felt something soft, warm, and damp under his back and around his body.

Blanket. Bed. I am in a bed.

He opened his eyes and the pain rushed in. It erupted from his horn and crashed like a tidal wave through the rest of his body, dragging him back into wakefulness and forcing him to look around the room. Magical monitoring equipment surrounded his bed, beeping and shimmering quietly. It was night and the lights were dim. He shifted uncomfortably on his sweat-soaked sheets, noticing a thin sliver of light coming from a cracked open doorway.

He heard the voice of Prince Artemis, speaking in a hushed voice.

“It was my fault. I should have protected him. My guilt has sealed my lips: I would have told you sooner, but I could not find the words.”

“It’s all right, Artemis,” the voice of Prince Solaris replied. “Seeing what happened to Dusk, I do not blame you.”

“You should. I fear I am at fault in more ways than one. I told you most of what we saw in the dream, but not what really happened at the end. The other Bearers do not remember, nor did they see what I did. It was frightening and alluring all at once... brother, I think I might have been affected by whatever plagued Dusk.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw myself, but it wasn’t quite me. It was somepony who was me and at the same time was not. It felt incredibly queer and deeply affecting. I can only explain it as a vision of me if were I born female.” Dusk heard Artemis take a deep, shaky breath. “She was beautiful in a way that words cannot describe. I have never seen anything on this earth that seemed so perfect, as an artist looks at a painting and knows not one more brushstroke should be laid upon the canvas. I felt I was the sketch and she was the true masterpiece.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I looked at her... I felt incomplete. I felt such longing as I never have before, almost as great as my desire to return to Equestria after my banishment. I felt a hole inside of me, one I never, ever want to feel again.”

There was an eternal pause.

“I felt unfinished.”

The sound of low voices and clicking hooves faded from the doorway soon after. Dusk Shine laid his head against the pillow and drifted into darkness.

He did not dream.

---------------------

When he awoke again the pain had receded, it was late in the evening, and he was surrounded by his friends. All of them wore expressions of grave concern that came gradually into focus as his eyes flitted back and forth, glancing around the room until they settled on the others. He managed a weak smile, his spirits lifting the moment he laid eyes on them. There were a few seconds of delicate silence before all five of them rushed forward and spoke at the same time, trying to hug him and push each other away to give him air all at once.

“Dusk, I’m so sorry! I should’ve done something!”

“We’re so glad to see you awake!”

“I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I’m sorry if I messed anything up!”

“Dusk, are ya okay? Give him some room, everypony!”

“You look awful, Dusk! I gotta throw a million bazillion ‘get better’ parties for this!”

Dusk chuckled in spite of himself, hugging his friends close to him and only relieved to find them here after all they’d been through. The friendship he felt overwhelmed even the splitting pain in his head. 

“Guys, guys, calm down,” he chided them, “it’s not that bad. I’m okay now and you’re all here.”

“We’ve been waiting for so long,” Butterscotch said, hiding his mouth behind his hooves. “It’s been such an awful, awful wait.”

“How long?” Dusk asked, dreading the answer.

“A week,” Applejack said. “It’s been seven days an’ seven nights almost to the hour, Dusk.”

“A week?!” Dusk squeaked, and looked down at his foreleg: that explained the IV tube stuck into it. “What about Spines? Are my parents here?”

“They all are. Spines arrived just a couple days ago.”

“Does my sister know?”

“Sends her condolences, but she’s stuck with Crystal Empire business.”

Dusk nodded, already feeling wearier the more he thought about his mother’s fretting. A week-long coma had to have been hard on all of them. Especially the traumatic event that caused it. The dream was... the dream! The dream!

“Guys,” he croaked, “what happened? I barely remember anything from that night. I’m just glad you all got out of there in one piece.”

They all shared a look of unease. Dusk’s smile slipped from his face when he saw them avoid eye contact with him, asking a silent question between them all.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Elusive spoke first. “Dusk, my friend, there is something you should know. Are you sure you don’t remember what happened in that awful dreamscape?”

Now that he wasn’t in the strange frozen space, Dusk’s mind shook off the cobwebs and turned to that horrible night in his own head. To his surprise he remembered most of the dream with awful clarity as if it had just happened a few minutes ago. A strange feeling settled over him: a malaise of the mind as he wandered the pathway leading to whatever had struck him down. It made the throbbing pain in his head even worse; he dug his hooves into the sheets and scrunched his eyes shut to ignore it.

“There was a castle,” he said, “and a hall of windows. We were with Artemis and he was trying to help me navigate my dreams. Then we were in a strange, dark place. It felt familiar.”

“Awfully so,” whispered Elusive.

“And then you were all lights. You were lit up and the Elements were there too!” Dusk’s eyes shot open again, the sudden movement making him wince. “The Elements—my Element—it was talking to me, to all of us, trying to say something!”

“They went crazy bright,” Rainbow added, “I remember that much.”

“I felt like I was having the biggest doozy ever,” Bubble said with an emphatic hop. “Like, a bajillion doozies all happening at once!”

Butterscotch nibbled his hooves, shuddering as Applejack laid a comforting hoof around his shoulders. Dusk winced; even a week later they spoke about it like it was just last night. Had it affected them all so badly they’d refused to speak of it until now?

Dusk gulped. “And then there was—”

A stabbing pain engulfed his entire head. He grabbed his temples with his hooves and screamed as magic shot in uncontrolled bursts from his head, but not in the smooth, familiar way it always came before. It felt like something deep inside that couldn’t fit was trying to push its way out, cracking his skull open as it went.

Panic erupted as Dusk thrashed hard enough to shake his bed, unable to stop the geyser of raw magic that erupted out of his horn and scorched the ceiling. It flowed back down and around him, throwing everypony away with a blast of kinetic force before ripping away his blanket and settling into a whirlpool of chaos. Haywire spells altered the environment around him: fires sprouted and turned into grass, icicles formed and melted into butter. His friends staggered backwards, trying to avoid the whirling eddy of searing heat, freezing cold, gale force winds and time-slowing anomalies that threatened to engulf the still screaming Dusk.

“Somepony do something!” yelled Butterscotch, taking wing and backing away. The vortex was getting bigger.

Rainbow reached out to Dusk, immediately drawing his hoof back when it came in contact with the kaleidoscopic tornado. It had been burned and frozen all at once.

“We can’t get through!” he shouted, gritting his teeth while he cradled his singed hoof. “We gotta get help!”

The door behind them exploded into splinters. Solaris and Artemis stormed into the room, their horns aglow as twin beams of energy shot into the maddening whirlpool of magic. With a keening squeal and a bright flash of light, the vortex calmed and the magic faded, leaving a bed that was more of a chunk of coal now and an exhausted Dusk in its wake. The unicorn collapsed into a heap and Solaris was at his side in a moment while Artemis tended to Rainbow’s injured hoof.

“Dusk Shine,” Solaris murmured, “my faithful student. Can you hear me?”

Dusk panted and gasped on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It had nearly melted on top of him, leaving molten marble hanging down like gloppy stalactites.

“What happened?” he sputtered. “What happened, Solaris? I... I’ve never been out of control like that before... not since I was a foal!”

Solaris answered him with a grim silence. Wordlessly, he floated a mirror to Dusk. When Dusk tried to take it with his magic, another sharp pain made him drop it. Solaris caught it before it shattered on the floor.

“Stay calm, Dusk,” he whispered. “I had hoped to break this more easily to you.”

Dusk shivered, curling in on himself. The magical outburst had redoubled the pain. “What do you mean?”

“I mean pick up the mirror and look, Dusk,” Solaris answered, his ominous stare never wavering.

Dusk raised the mirror. His eyes grew wide, wider, and wider still. The pain in his head grew even worse, spreading down into his heart and squeezing it with a cold iron vise. He touched his forehead with a trembling hoof.

--------------------

Twilight rubbed the shattered stump of her horn with mechanical back and forth movements. She didn’t flinch away from her deformity. She didn’t even blink. She felt desolate and empty, as if she wasn’t herself anymore. She just sat there, rubbing her hoof over the jagged edges, slowly scraping her hoof raw. Every back and forth motion sent a new, throbbing pain through her head, but she welcomed it. Perhaps she thought if she touched it enough she would be convinced that it wasn’t all some horrible illusion or sick prank. She didn’t know how long she lay there staring at herself, but every time her hoof skipped over another crevice or touched the small point where the horn had burst unevenly, it brought another moment of denial. The reflection in the mirror had to be some other Twilight Sparkle, some other handicapped unicorn. Twilight Sparkle was the greatest wizard in Equestria. Twilight Sparkle didn’t have a broken horn. Twilight Sparkle did not have the one thing that most defined her taken away in such a horrible manner.

“Words cannot convey how sorry I am, Twilight,” said Celestia. Twilight continued to stare at her reflection.

She heard Celestia gulp: a frail, all-too-mortal thing to do. “It has been three days, Twilight.”

Twilight remembered. Her friends had stayed with her the entire week she was in her magically induced coma. They’d been at her bedside when her broken horn went haywire. They’d cried with her, sat with her, held her hoof while she stared brokenly at the far wall. Her parents had come soon after her friends, and poor Mother had cried with her all afternoon yesterday while Father held them both. Poor Spike was still beside himself and even now shuffled his feet miserably in the doorway.

They’d all cried with her. 

Celestia had not. 

Celestia hadn’t shed one single tear. 

Perhaps she could explain that if Twilight spoke to her, but Twilight didn’t feel like saying one word to the Princess. Luna had yet to show her face since she helped Celestia rein in the vortex on the day of Twilight’s awakening, and then vanished without a word.

Coward.

Celestia tried again. “Twilight, you’ve barely eaten. You haven’t said a word that wasn’t covered in tears. I...”

She trailed off. Celestia never trailed off before, never so uncertainly.

“You must face facts so we can help you. Your horn is broken.”

It was not.

“I’m so sorry,” Celestia whispered, “for what I did to you.”

Silence. 

Don’t acknowledge it. Don’t talk about it. You’ll wake up from the nightmare tomorrow.

“But things could have turned out much worse, Twilight. Your outburst when you woke up was an encouraging sign; that you can do magic at all is a cause for hope.”

She heard the immortal Ruler of the Sun lick her dry lips, fishing for words. Where was her loving embrace? The soft crook of her neck?

“Unicorns can still live well even with a condition like this. I swear you will have all the resources I can give to help you through this trying time.”

Why was she talking like a doctor to a patient? Why didn’t she swoop down with an answer or a gentle word? Just one brush of her wing would be enough.

“I... when you were brought here to Canterlot... I know Luna should have brought you here straightaway. But she did something she hasn’t done in a thousand years, Twilight. She panicked. She panicked and went straight to me, and I had you and your friends brought straight here.”

So the mighty Princess gave her faithful student a sickbed. Wonderful.

“If you are going to assign blame to anypony, blame me. But what happened was beyond what even we were expecting. I—”

Twilight dropped the mirror onto her lap, turning her head just enough that she could glare at Celestia out of the corners of her eyes. Her lips moved just the barest amount necessary to form words. “If the next sentence out of your mouth is not exactly why Luna had to do what she did, then I don’t think we have much to say to each other.”

Twilight could’ve sworn she sat there for hours, the warm presence of Celestia standing still and silent. The Princess’ expression was a mask of stoic indifference, the kind she might wear when she was listening to a dreadful proclamation 

It was almost dark outside when she heard the Princess’ gilded hooves clicking on the floor. 

They moved away. 

Across the room. 

Out the door. 

Down the hall. 

Silence fell.

Twilight’s parents visited her again before nightfall. She couldn’t bear to see Mother’s heartbroken expression and Father doing his best to keep a stiff upper lip for them all, but she did agree to stay with them in their Canterlot home, for now at least. She didn’t want to be near the castle, nor near the Princesses. She cried again in Mother’s legs in great heaving sobs until she felt her eyes would simply break from the strain. The worst part was she wasn’t exactly sure what she was crying for. Her broken horn felt like something had snapped inside of her, a vital connection severed that she’d never fully repair. The betrayal of Celestia’s love left a similar gaping hole, a giant question mark that blared a single question long and loud: why? Why did this happen? Why did she look uncomfortable more than sorrowful, why wasn’t her heart broken along with her favorite student?

Her friends didn’t have any other answers when they visited her the next morning.

“Tell me what happened,” she requested anyway. “Luna won’t let me remember.”

“I know what ya mean,” Applejack said, her face half-hidden under her hat. “When I tried ta’ go over what happened in there it was like my brain’s got a patch a’ fog sittin’ right over my memories. We went through a lot in there, an’ Luna’s usin’ her fancy magic ta’ muddle our minds? Somethin’s not right about this a’tall.”

“She blocked your memories too?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow stamped her bandaged hoof, which she soon regretted with a loud cry of “Ah, pony feathers!” With a snort, she went on: “She did it to all of us! I tried to remember what we did in there and all I came up with was some weird hallway. Then there was shouting and lights and I don’t know what. Now Twilight’s horn is broken and we’re all back at square one.” She opened her wings, pacing back and forth. Spittle flew from her mouth as she spat out her words. “When I get my hooves on that Princess—!”

Pinkie rubbed her forehooves together, fretting. “Dashie? Are you okay?”

Rainbow swept around on another circuit, nostrils flaring as she worked herself into a frenzy. “No, Pinkie, I’m not okay! None of us are okay! Just look at what she did to Twilight, and to all of us! I’m not going to just stand around wondering why this happened, I want to do something about it! And on top of that Luna messed with our heads and isn’t even sorry about it? After all we’ve done for her? I have half a mind to get right up in her face and show her what my hoof thinks of that! Her behavior is totally uncool and—”

Applejack crossed the distance between her and Rainbow with long, quick strides and shoved her snout against Rainbow’s. “Rainbow Danger Dash, you calm down right this instant.”

“Calm down?! How am I supposed to calm down? Twilight’s horn is broken, Applejack! There’s no way to fix that! If there was the Princesses would have told us. They’re hiding something!”

“An’ Twilight don’t need you hootin’ an’ hollerin’ an’ bayin’ at the Moon! She needs you calm, Rainbow. We all do. Now stow it, lock it down, an’ throw away the key so we can discuss this civil-like.”

“There’s nothing civil about what’s going on!” Rainbow took to the air and fluttered around the room, gesticulating with her hooves. “We already tried discussing it. You remember how that went? We both walked right up to Celestia and told her to tell us what was going on and what we had to do to fix it!”

She turned to Twilight, who felt the pain in Rainbow’s narrowed, wild eyes.

“She said what’s done is done, Twilight. She said that about you. She said that what happened had to happen and we just had to trust her. Well I’m not ready to do that. I’m gonna march back there—”

Applejack shoved her chest against Rainbow’s. “Stop it, just stop it! You’re just freakin’ everypony out Rainbow, now quit it!”

Rainbow’s cheeks puffed out, her pupils contracting. She sputtered and gritted her teeth, struggling to keep back words she’d regret later. Just when Twilight thought Rainbow was about to deck Applejack, the pegasus whirled around with a loud shot and bucked the wall, leaving a crack in its marble finish. She dropped onto her haunches, crossed her forelegs, and began to pout. 

“Luna better be glad that wasn’t her face,” she grumbled.

Rarity covered her face with her hoof and sighed. “As uncouth as Rainbow’s words might be, we have to agree on one thing: something important was happening that night, and Luna openly admitted that to stop it she—” A wince passed over her expression and her gaze went to the ground, “—broke Twilight’s horn. As painful as it might be to admit, we have a mystery on our hooves and... and the Princesses do not appear to be willing to help solve it.”

“But why?” asked Pinkie. She had spent the entire conversation cradling Fluttershy in her hooves, stroking the pegasus’ mane. Fluttershy huddled miserably in her grip, probably feeling useless and depressed at being unable to help Twilight. Twilight’s heart went out to her, but she couldn’t work up the energy to do anything but lay there.

“Why would they do this? They gotta tell us something, right?” Pinkie continued. “I mean, they’re the Princesses of Equestria! They never hurt anypony!”

“Until they hurt Twilight,” Fluttershy mumbled, then hid behind her mane. “Luna shouldn’t have done that. She should have trusted that Twilight knew what to do.”

“I do,” said Twilight. Everypony turned to her, and she took strength from the confidence and trust in their eyes. She needed them to depend on her so she could know that she was strong enough to be worthy of them. “I know what to do. We get our answers ourselves. If the Princesses won’t help, then we do what we do best. We save the day.”

The words felt like razor blades coming out of her mouth. The very thought that the Princesses had actively hampered her in a quest to learn was a betrayal of everything she knew. But she couldn’t just sit around and mope all week, as tempting as the idea was. She had to do something for herself and her friends. Seeing them almost tear each other apart galvanized her. She liked to think that was Magic, still using her as a focal point of their friendship. If she wasn’t in working condition, none of them could be.

“I need to get out of here,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong and unwavering. “I need to go home. I need some time to think and read and do my best to remember. And then... then I need some books.”

Rainbow stepped up next to her, looking at her horn stump. “But what about... well, you know.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Twilight said with an emphatic swipe of her hoof, pushing the words past a tight knot in her throat. “I’ve been sitting in here crying for three days now. It’s time I started to learn how to live my new life.”

She rubbed her stump again. 

“We’re all here for you,” Rarity said, laying her hoof over Twilight’s.

“Always and forever,” said Fluttershy, walking to Twilight’s side to give her a gentle downy hug that she gladly returned.

“I don’t expect you all to stay here twenty-four seven now that I’m awake,” she said, “so I want you all to go back to Ponyville and take care of the things you’ve been neglecting.”

“We haven’t been neglecting anything!” Pinkie protested. “We’re here for you because we’re all the most super important thing to each other! Like a big giant friendship circle that’s got kind of an arrow pointing at itself and goes around and around and around and around—”

Twilight smiled and put a hoof over Pinkie’s lips, no easy task given how Pinkie’s head was spinning. “Thanks, Pinkie. But I know you’ve got jobs and family that need taking care of. The sooner we get back into a normal routine the better. I promise, the moment I think of something I’ll contact you all via Spike.”

Pinkie persisted. “But what if your magic goes crazy again?”

“My parents and I can handle it. And I’ll have the Princesses close by if things get dangerous. Trust me guys, this is going to be hard, but I—We—can handle it. There’s nothing we can’t do with the magic of friendship, right?”

She gave them a weak smile that felt painted on, but it seemed to satisfy her friends as they gave her their blessings and reluctantly left her alone. Twilight sent for the doctors and told them her plan; she got confirmation from the Princesses an hour afterwards along with a trinket delivered by a unicorn in grand purple robes with silver lining: the robes of a Court Wizard, one of the foremost practitioners of magic in the land.

“I was told to prepare this for you. The Princesses would have delivered it, but they are busy in court at the moment.”

Twilight let him drop it onto her hoof: a small silver ring with a red stone on its band. She felt it rest heavy on her hoof, tingling gently. She gulped hard. “That’s pure leystone,” she whispered. “Magic made solid. Why would the Princesses give me this?”

“It will stop any more outbursts from your broken horn. The Princesses themselves set a powerful enchantment into it that will alter and disperse spells cast by your horn. Instead, it will discharge as harmless atmospheric magic. Nopony will even be able to tell it happened unless they’re looking for it.”

Twilight’s eyes watered. It wasn’t enough that her poor horn was broken and she might explode like a firecracker at any given moment; now the Princesses had to foist this indignity on her, leashing her like some dangerous animal. Her hoof shivered and she put the ring down on the bed next to her, laying down with her back to the accursed thing.

“I can’t look at it.”

The unicorn shifted on his hooves, taking several short breaths as he searched for the right words. “Miss Sparkle, I have the greatest respect for who you are and what you’ve done for Equestria. It pains me to give this to you. Please don’t look at this like a punishment. It’s only for your safety and the safety of those around you.”

She curled up tighter on the bed. The unicorn sighed and stepped away.

“I will let you put it on yourself when you are ready. Take care, miss Sparkle. You will always be a great unicorn to us.”

She probably should have thanked him for the kind words, but nothing came. When the door closed again, she shuddered and sobbed, letting out the emotions she’d hidden from her friends. At least now they had some direction, and she could at last turn back to what she’d been wanting to do most: venting her frustrations.

She turned back around and stared at the ring, already a symbol of vitriol and disrespect. It was styled after a perfectly normal horn ring: nopony would even be able to tell what it was, but they might deduce it from her shattered horn. She doubted anypony would remark on it or even spare a second glance, but in her state of mind paranoia was a curious balm that stung and comforted her at the same time. At least it gave her an excuse to try and hide as much as possible in the coming weeks.

She picked up the ring and made to throw it. “Nasty thing!”

She stopped herself at the last moment, poised without following through.

“... But I could hurt my friends.”

She’d die before she did that.

Like a slave accepting their collar she slipped it over what remained of her horn, feeling the unnatural weight of it drop onto her skull. It felt like taking off a scarf in the middle of winter, as the leystone sucked away the warmth of her natural magic and turned it to harmless air. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and the marks where her magic had scorched it. That black smudge could be her friends if she wasn’t careful.

Everything felt wrong. She was a protector of Equestria, not a menace. She was Celestia’s brightest student, not the reject she had suddenly become. Looking out the window at Canterlot’s skyline, she dreaded what the citizens would say if they ever saw her like this. The world felt a strange, foreign place and she was just a visitor still trying to adjust to a body that used to be somepony else’s. How did she reconcile all of this?

The night brought no answers, but there were many more tears before she finally slept. She did not dream, but somehow that was the worst part.

--------------------

“Are you sure you don’t need any help, Dusk?”

“I got it, Spines.”

The dragon deflated and Dusk’s heart went out to her. He scooped her up and set her on the table, pointing at a shelf several levels above him.

“Except for that one right there.”

“On it, Dusk!”

Spines saluted and climbed the shelves, coming back down with the book in claw. Dusk gave her an appreciative smile and flipped open the pages. Though it wasn’t an important volume and he was fairly certain he’d read it several times before, he wanted Spines to feel like she could do her part too. That was more than what Dusk wanted to admit. With his horn shattered and the leystone ring in place, life had been reduced to a snail’s pace.

He stood up and walked over to another shelf, taking one book from its place. He walked back to his desk and put it down. He walked back to the shelf, took another book, walked back to his desk, put it down.

Every single step felt unnecessary. Every single movement was a waste of time and energy when he used to make the whole room come alive, swirling with books and quills and the wonderful flow of magic.

He stared down at the book: Tales of the Wyrd Reaches and Diamond Coast. Nothing in there would help his current condition or help him figure out what had happened in his dream. Nothing he had done in the last couple of weeks didn’t have to do with adjusting to his disability.

He cringed. That wasn’t a good word to use, but it was the correct one. A lack of adequate power or incapacity. It described him perfectly.

Spines watched him carefully as he caressed the pages of the book, listlessly turning them over one by one.

No more magic. No more magic.

He flipped from page thirty-nine to forty, then forty-one. He flipped back to forty. Forty-one. Forty.

No more magic. Dull, dumb Dusk Shine. Not even the Princes know how to fix this.

Two weeks and it still felt like a hole in his heart. Something had snapped inside of him, a vital connection severed that he’d never fully repair. It was the worst thing he’d ever felt. Not even the smiling faces of his friends and family, nor the support of the Princes gave him any resolution.

He felt Spines’ claws on his leg. She looked up at him with big moist eyes, eyebrows furled.

“Dusk,” she said, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna find an answer to this like you always do.”

Dusk sighed, lifting a hoof and staring at it. “I dunno, Spines. I’ve got a lot to figure out and I don’t even have magic to help me. Not even the Princes are sure what to do. If they knew, they’d have told us.”

Spines hand dropped away. “Well... I never stopped believing in you before, Dusk. If you won’t believe in yourself, I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Dusk reached down and pulled her into a hug, nuzzling her head spines. “You’re a blessing, Spines.”

“I know, Dusk. Don’t let it go to your head that such an awesome little dragon is around to help you out.”

“Sure, sure... Now how about that awesome dragon goes and sees if Mom’s cookies are done?”

Dusk watched Spines hurry out the door. Mother’s cookies would always be a treat, and she’d been churning them out like they were a magic cure. It was an emotional salve more than anything else, a throwback to the days when Dusk and Glimmering Shield were little foals making a mess in the kitchen. It wouldn’t fix anything physically, and Dusk knew she only did these things for him because she didn’t know what else to do. But it worked because it was so heartfelt. His parents had been more than accommodating, giving him space, time, and every book their library held. It wasn’t as impressive as the Canterlot Archives, but it gave him something to keep his hooves busy with. It helped him remember that he had a cushion, an ever-loving pillow to drop back into when he was done and needed a time out from the world. 

But all the family love in the world couldn’t repair a broken horn. Dusk was painfully aware of how alone he really was in this struggle. He lifted a hoof and brought a pen over to scratch down some notes. It felt strange and wrong between his lips, and even though his mouthwriting wasn’t bad, he was aware of every imperfection in his normally flawless cursive. Every motor movement, every muscle contraction jerked and creaked, mocking him with how horribly conscious he was of his own body. He had to forcefully stop his horn from working, from pushing magic through nerve endings that didn’t exist anymore. It didn’t work. The old habits didn’t die hard, they clung to him fiercely and wouldn’t let go.

He tried to think about something else.

He tried to think about his dream. The one he couldn’t remember anymore but knew like the back of his hoof.

He flung his hoof to the side and grabbed his dream journal, flipped it open, and read from the beginning.

I saw her again. She didn’t turn around.

He remembered writing it. He remembered having the dream. But he couldn’t remember the dream itself anymore. The shattered horn had shattered his memory along with it.

“Why?” he asked hoarsely. “Where did you go? What did I do wrong?”

He flipped through every entry, picturing the details in his mind. A beautiful filly with a cutie mark exactly like his, foggy and indistinct, never turning in spite of how loudly he called to her. That was how the story went, but he couldn’t remember reading it.

“Why?” he asked again, louder. “Where are you? Why did this happen to me?! Are you still there?!”

He grabbed another scroll and began writing with his own stupid mouth. His horn still tried to grasp it with magic.

“No,” he told himself, “I’m using my mouth. I’m always going to use it. No more magic. No more dreams. Just... my stupid... mouth!”

The pen scratched and jerked over the page, writing down a stream of consciousness as Dusk moved from notes to gibberish. Scribble, scribble, toil and dribble. The pen and Dusk began to scratch the paper faster and faster. He wasn’t even writing anymore, just raking the tip of the pen back and forth over the scroll, leaving angry scratches wherever it went. 

The pen tore through the scroll as his scraping intensified, sending up a blizzard of paper fragments, and then began to dig long furrows into his desk, the awful scratching grating on his ears. He tore it out of his mouth and stabbed it down onto his desk hard enough to leave it upright.

Spines came to the door.

“Dusk, are you okay? I heard something.”

Dusk waved a hoof at her. “I’m fine, Spines.”

“The cookies are almost—”

His hoof slapped down on his desk. “I’m fine.”

He heard her pitying sigh as she backed away.

Dusk put his head in his hooves, willing his heart to stop pounding. He sat there for a while until he felt a whisper of cold air over his shoulder. Tendrils of fog reached around his hooves.

“Artemis?” he asked, craning his neck to look behind him at the Night Prince.

Artemis dispersed the fog with a single flap of his wings. “The very same, Dusk Shine.”

Dusk turned his chair around and sat, deliberately lazy, as he faced the Prince.

“What brings you here?”

“Your dreams. Or rather, your lack of them.”

Dusk let out a quiet ‘pff.’ “What about them?”

“I know you have stopped having them. I know that troubles you almost as much as losing your horn, almost as much as the dreams did themselves.”

Dusk stared miserably at his hooves.

“We’re no closer to figuring this out and I’m crippled for life,” he grumbled.

Artemis stared at him for a long, long time. Spines came to the door again holding a tray of cookies, staring wide-eyed at the Night Prince.

“Uhh... cookie?” she asked, holding the tray out.

Artemis smiled and didn’t hide it. “Yes, please. Dusk, won’t you have some? They are your mother’s, after all.”

Dusk shifted uncomfortably. “I, I don’t...”

“It will help you feel better.”

Dusk looked up again and saw no lie in Artemis’ eyes. It was true: Dusk would feel better after he had something to eat. And so he stared at the cookies for a moment to grasp them with his—

No. He bit back a sob as Spines smiled and brought one over for him. And so they munched in silence for a while until Artemis spoke again.

“I remember, you know.”

Dusk choked on his cookie so hard that Spines came over and thumped him on the back. When Dusk looked up at Artemis, his eyes wide and his mind racing, the Prince had only a placid, unconcerned look on his face. It struck him that Artemis had been planning what to say for a good long while and already knew where this conversation was going and how it would end.

“You do not remember, Dusk. But I was unaffected by whatever happened in your dreamscape. It was magic, Dusk. The same kind that any talented dreamwalker might use.”

Dusk gaped. “But how? Was it a Nightmare? Something else? Something had to have attacked us. I already asked the others; it’s like the whole thing never even happened! If it weren’t for you and my broken horn, I’d never even realize we went in there!”

Artemis closed his eyes, his wings twitching and opening a tiny bit. Dusk saw anxiety etched into the Prince’s face.

“I wish it had been a Nightmare. If it was, it would be a foe that we all know well and could simply destroy it at our leisure with the Elements. But this magic was something different. I could not destroy it, nor could I alter it, because it...”

Artemis swallowed hard. Dusk realized with a shiver that that was the first time he’d seen the Prince gulp.

“It was my magic.”

He went silent as Dusk puzzled it out. They went into the dream to find his doppleganger. They’d found something that broke his horn and took his memory of the event. He’d been searching for a pony that, it could be assumed, had the same abilities as him since the colors and cutie mark were an exact match, and now Artemis had faced magic that didn’t affect him because it was his...

“Hers?” Dusk said. The word was a dry whisper between his lips.

Artemis nodded solemnly. “Hers.”

Dusk almost fell out of his chair in spite of all four of its legs sitting perfectly flat on the floor. His mind reeled and he felt violently ill. The cookies almost exploded back out.

It can’t be. It just can’t!

“I’m afraid it is,” Artemis replied, reading Dusk’s reaction perfectly. “Dusk, whatever is happening to you, it is not an isolated case.”

Dusk fell to the ground, clutching his head between his hooves until it was painful. Spines hurried forward, holding him like a foal.

“Dusk! What is it? Do you need some water?” She looked back up at Artemis. “You mean you saw her too?”

Dusk heard their voices as if from far away, staring straight ahead at nothing. Something wild and ferocious clawed at a great dark curtain in his mind, shredding its thick velvet folds but never quite finding a way through. Sweat ran down his head in rivulets as he shook like a pony in a blizzard.

“Dusk!” Spines wailed.

“I saw her. And I saw me, too,” Artemis said, and the words rang like death knells in Dusk’s ears. The sheer, mind-numbing reality of this revelation was too much for his fragile mind. Some great weight pressed down on him from all sides. The thing behind the curtain in his mind leered at him with a wild look in its doey violet eyes. He wanted so badly to remember it all.

He saw his parents burst in after hearing Spines’ frightened cries. They took one look at Artemis before ignoring him in favor of Dusk as he sputtered and shivered on the floor. 

“My baby! Dusk? Dusk, are you okay?!” his mother cried out as his father threw a blanket around his shoulders and nudged him to his hooves, where he fell into his mother’s waiting grasp.

“What’s happening?!” his father demanded of Artemis, who looked on impassively. 

“He is trying to remember,” he said, “and he is failing. That dream is desperately trying to return to him. I have pondered many nights now what it might mean to do this, but I must try for the sake of his sanity. Dusk Shine, remove the leystone ring.”

Spines’ voice rang in his ears. “But he can’t! His magic will go crazy!”

“Yes, it will. But I am here. Trust me. We can discuss the existential crisis of female doubles later. Right now, I must undo a terrible curse of my own making.”

Dusk shuddered. His parents exchanged worried, tearful looks. Spines looked up at Artemis, and with a final nod from the Prince, she slipped the ring off his horn.

Artemis’ horn glowed, and his magic’s light embraced Dusk’s head, joining a swirl of lavender energy that leapt from Dusk’s horn stump. It strained against Artemis’ magic, struggling to break free, and the Prince soon showed the strain of keeping the outburst contained in the grimace on his snout.

“Now, my little ponies,” he said, gritting his teeth, “it is time for you—both of you—to remember.”

-------------------------

Twilight sat at her writing desk, poring over her notes of the last month and a half of her life. The dreams, the feelings, and the events were all recorded here. Books held so much power. Nothing went into them that the writer didn’t want. Their pages held the most baseless lies or the most incontrovertible truths. Right or wrong, they were powerful, and she’d sequestered herself in her parents’ library every day for the last two weeks just to be near those fonts of power. It let her feel in control, being able to learn and study like when she was young. The books never judged her; all they needed was her hoof to caress the pages and flip them open. Though it was a constant reminder of her disability—she cringed at the word, correct though it may be—they were the only refuge she had.

She stared dumbly at the last few journal entries just before the fateful night in her own dreamscape, trying to recapture the feelings she’d had during them. Her eyes flew over the pages, catching only small snippets before going on to the next one.

Day 18: Finding it hard to stay awake now. Dream remains unchanged. Male presence a constant. Not sure how I know it’s male. Still can’t change outcome of the dream.

Day 21: I think I’m going crazy. I have to tell my friends. Dream remains unchanged. Growing somewhat skittish. General health deteriorating, malaise now constant. I managed to convince Spike I have the pony pox. 

Day 22: Pony pox plan fell through after another of Rainbow Dash’s rain dump pranks. Almost lost my temper. I don’t want to know what I’d have

Day 24: Unable to sleep. Scared of sleep. Have to sleep. I want to see him. I don’t want to see him. This is going too far. Somepony has to know.

Him.

Have to.

Don’t want to.

Nothing I do is working.

Twilight closed the journal again and shook her head: trawling through previous miseries in the vain hope of a solution wasn’t helping. She had to try to undo the lock that Luna put on the minds of her and her friends. Until that injustice was dealt with, she was even worse off than she was when the dreams started. She hated not knowing what to do, and she hated lying to her friends that she did. All she’d done since they left was hide here and read books, desperately trying to ignore the world outside that waited for her. The dreams were gone and she was utterly lost.

“You turned my life upside-down,” she whispered into the air, “but somehow... I kinda wish you were back.”

She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Spike?” she called. “Spike, I need a new ink well.”

She listened and waited for the sound of his scampering claws, rubbing her forehead. This nasty headache wasn’t doing her any favors.

“Twilight?” she heard Spike ask from the door. “I got your ink here! Where do I put it?”

“Right next to me, Spike, please.” Twilight gestured at the desk without looking at it, continuing to rub her temples. Her headache was getting worse all of a sudden; it must have been the cold front that moved in last night. Stupid sinuses.

“And... maybe get me some tea? Piping hot?” she asked.

Spike saluted. “Right away!” he said, and then hurried downstairs. 

Twilight groaned as her head began to pound, immediately regretting sending Spike away. She pushed away from the desk and stood up.

I’m just working too hard. That’s all. I need to get some bed rest. My horn might be broken, but at least I can get an uninterrupted night’s sleep now... 

Her headache continued to worsen. It felt like she was preparing to cast a spell, but the energy wasn’t quite getting through. She touched the leystone ring, feeling its cold, heavy presence—the stone wasn’t altering any spells. They weren’t being cast at all. This wasn’t even like her outburst two weeks ago. The thought of an all new catastrophe building twisted a knot in her stomach.

“Spike,” she called, “where’s that tea?”
 
“Coming!” he yelled back.
 
“Don’t shout in the house!” Twilight’s mother said.
 
“Sorry!” Twilight shouted back.
 
The pressure was getting worse; the magic wasn’t going out through her horn. She felt it balling up, gathering together right beneath her horn, spreading through her frontal lobe. Half-formed ideas and vague suggestions of spells whispered between her ears, straining to be expressed. She bent over double in her chair, clutching her head in her hooves. 
 
“Stop,” she commanded herself, gritting her teeth as she wrestled with the wild magic. “Stop it. I’m in control. Deep breaths… deep breaths!”
 
The pressure spiked as she felt herself cast a spell involuntarily. It seeped through her horn, scattered invisibly by the leystone ring. But it didn’t ease the pressure, nor did it stop the swirl of magic in her mind. She felt bloated, full of things she wanted to say and create. The magic wanted, needed to be cast. It was what unicorns were meant to do. She gasped and fell to the ground as another spike of pressure crashed into her
 
“Spike,” she whimpered, curling into a ball, “somepony! Mom! Dad!” But her voice came out in dying whispers, all of her thoughts focused purely on the working of magic and the creation of spells. Ideas and emotions blotted out clear, rational thought, all the wondrous things she could do tempting and exciting her, igniting her need to create. The incoherent ramblings bled together into an incomprehensible swirl. Titles and names swept through her mind’s eye, and she rattled them off like a grim litany.
 
Want It Need It, Starswirl’s Time Turning, Minda’s Multitasking, Swifter Sweeping, I have to cast something, I have to use my magic, I HAVE TO!

“I can’t take it!” she shrieked, and reached up to the leystone ring. It fizzled and sparked from the sheer volume of magic it had to contain, the last tiny plug before a flood wall burst open.
 
Get off me! Get off! I have to be free!

Celestia’s warnings were forgotten, her previous discipline utterly spent. There was no more choice now. Just action.
 
She grabbed the ring and threw it away.
 
Spike came to the door, bearing a plate covered in biscuits and teacups. “Twilight, I got the-  AHHHH!”
 
He stumbled back and fell on his tail as a lightning bolt struck the door and blasted it off its hinges. Twilight stood in the middle of a maelstrom of power, suffusing the room in a violent purple glow. Her mane whipped around her face and her eyes glowed with a fearsome white light. Above her head a sparkling menagerie of raw magic swirled and billowed like an angry cloud. Books, papers and chairs rode a furious whirlwind, striking the walls along with tongues of flame and tendrils of distorted reality that lashed and burned the very space around Twilight, leaving bright afterimages of their passing.
 
Spike huddled down as Twilight’s parents rushed to the door, gaping at the spectacle.
 
“Not again! Twilight!” Spike called out, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of explosions and swirling wind.
 
Twilight staggered into her desk. It melted away like ice wherever she touched it. Books were vaporized instantaneously and rebuilt seconds later. Words and images spilled out of her unburdened horn, writing all new spells on the air. She had never felt more alive, more in tune with the pure, unbridled magic of the world. She felt like an artery and magic was her lifeblood, a source and a fuel for all her energy. She sobbed and laughed at the same time.
 
“I can feel it!” she crowed, ignoring her family’s cries as they called out to her.  “I can feel it all! This is Magic! This is Magic!”
 
Her vision distorted. Her parents and Spike turned into glowing motes of light before her sight blasted upward, through the ceiling and into the sky. She saw herself standing on a great cliff face, looking out over the whole world. It was covered in lights, near and far, large and small. She understood in that moment that she saw every single pony in Equestria. Little fires flickering, daring the darkness around them to come and snuff them out. Ten thousand thousand little lives, all burning bright for how small they were.

She heard words and shouts, and vaguely understood that her parents were calling to her. She heard Celestia’s voice, pleading with her, but that wasn’t important now. She heard another voice, an echo of a whisper on top of all the others. It came from so far, far away, yet she heard it right next to ears. She tried to reach out to it, heard its siren call getting louder, louder...

A great tug from behind brought her back to earth.

Her immediate vision returned to her. She saw her magic—her beautiful, fantastic magic—bound in a bristling cage of lightning.

She turned her head. Both Princesses stood there, straining against her with all their might. Her parents stood behind them, holding each other, tears staining their cheeks as Spike huddled at their hooves.

All of them wavered between reality and indistinct, abstract forms. Beautiful, beautiful lights, pulsating and shimmering like fire. Her parents, burning fiercely with protective love. Spike, wavering unsteadily. And the Princesses, Celestia blazing bright as the Sun with Luna reflecting her light. They paled in comparison to her.

She wasn’t Twilight anymore. She was Magic.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded of them, and with a thought she smashed her cage apart. The Princesses fell back on powerful shields that stretched to both sides of the room. Everything not behind them was burned away by Magic’s power.

Twilight, she heard Celestia’s mind say to hers, stop this. You don’t know what you’re doing. Something is working to undo all of our progress.

“This isn’t progress,” Magic spat back at her. “It’s prison. You know what’s going on and you won’t just let it happen!”

It must not. You are not ready for this, Twilight, Celestia pleaded. Tears shimmered in her eyes. You must trust me. This is for your own good. Look at what you are doing. You’re out of control. Your parents are frightened and want you back.

Her expression wavered. I want you back.

“This is all your fault!” Magic screamed back at her. “Not ready? Look at me! In being broken I have become stronger than ever before! I—remember—everything!”

She turned her full fury on Princess Luna, who fell to her knees. Celestia leaped to her aid, strengthening her shield with her own.

“She... I deserve an explanation,” the changed unicorn spat.

Neither of us unlocked your memories! said Luna. It was something else entirely. Something antithetical to us both, Twilight! Can you not see you are in danger? That we are ALL in danger?

“Because of you!” Magic shrieked. “Because of your lack of faith in me!”

Celestia shook her head. Twilight, we cannot tell you everything. Not like this. I trust you! You know that! But... there are things in this world... things I must protect you from!

“I gave you back your sister,” Magic snarled, “but you try and crush me. No more. I can feel it. I can feel him. I remember the dream and you won't stop me this time!”

Celestia closed her eyes. Luna’s expression went flat, but the flames of determination made her light grow stronger.

We must, Twilight, said Celestia. We must.

Magic shook her head.

“But you can’t.”

She closed her eyes and the world vanished.

-------------

Trees. Sun. Wind. Sky. Open space. Magic, out of control, spiraling. The ground.

Twilight opened her eyes.

She was in a forest. It was peaceful and green, apart from the crackling embers that lined the crater all around her. She was exhausted, and her broken horn felt as horrid as it did the day Luna had broke it. It hissed and sparked, energy still coursing around it even after she had utterly spent herself. Every spark hurt.

But the Princesses weren’t here, and they didn’t appear after she lay there a while, gathering her thoughts and her breath. She had escaped. She was free. Free to pursue the dream herself now. Free to investigate what she’d seen in the moments before her horn was broken. Even free to destroy the world, if her brush with insanity just a few moments or hours or however much time had passed ago was any indication.

She stood up on shaky legs, but she was struck by how clear her thoughts were now. She knew. She remembered. She had a goal.

First, find out where she was. Second, find a way to keep her magic under control. 

And then find him. She felt closer to him now. The feelings of longing and need were still there, but it didn’t make her heart sting as much now. Something had reached across universes and undone the spell laid on her. It was a sign that she was doing it right. It had to be.

She looked up and saw a trail of smoke on the horizon. Step by step, she walked.
> Rising Action
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dusk Shine was no stranger to bad days. He’d had plenty of them. Most of them were even his own fault: the parasprites, the time travel fiasco, almost ruining his first Winter Wrap-Up. He’d suffered some of the deepest depths of guilt and frustration a pony could have.

Today had every one of those days beat.

The room was a mess. What little control he’d had over his magic was utterly gone and he didn’t bother trying to reassert it. Every few seconds his magic lashed out at random, turning chairs into lamps, books into potted plants, and a priceless painting into a bidet. Anything that wasn’t nailed down floated in unchanging circuits around the room, hovered in place, or repeatedly smashed themselves into walls. He was fairly certain he’d supersized a spider at one point, and it was currently scratching around in the vanity.

The worst part, though, was himself. He held fast to a pillow around his head, smothering his ears. Maybe if he pulled it down tight enough he would drown out all the crazy voices in his head that just wouldn’t keep quiet. A hundred dissociated voices caterwauled in the confines of his mind. The silent cacophony rang between his ears, betraying his mixed feelings of panic, shock, and bewilderment. All Dusk could do was find a quiet corner in the dark folds of his mind and cower.

His horn sparked wildly, and all around his bed three of those voices were made real, duplicate Dusk Shines that all immediately started arguing with each other. Dusk just pulled the pillow ever tighter around his head and buried his face in his blankets. The pillow tore, but that just gave him the idea to rip it in two and try to stuff both halves into his ears while the three homunculi had their insane discourse.

“I’m telling you, it’s not possible,” said the Dusk on the left. “Just think about the ramifications here, not just for magic, but for every level of existence! If it was real, we’d have known about it before now.”

“She’s real,” said the Dusk on the right. “I saw her with my own eyes! I saw all of them! All of us, but... different!”

“Itay awsay a reamday!” said the Dusk in the middle. “Hinktay ationallyray!”

“One experiment does not a law of nature make!” said the Dusk on the left. “I can’t just accept that this is real at face value!”

“But I saw her face,” right Dusk exclaimed, “and it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Eautifulbay,” said middle Dusk with a nod of assent. “Tubay rovespay othingnay.”

“Shut up,” the Dusk with the pillow growled. “Shut up!”

“Just think logically, like I’m saying!” said left Dusk. “What possible explanation could there be for this? Clones? Mass hallucinations? I don’t have to jump into this with all four hooves if I don’t want to. I didn’t ask for this.”

Right Dusk stomped his hoof on the floor. “Or I could just accept that it’s all real! She’s real, I know it, I feel it! And I’m just wasting time arguing with myself when I could be looking for her!”

“Anday oday hatway?” chided middle Dusk. “Histay siay ettingay owherenay.”

“I have to see her, talk to her! It’s like this is what we were made for!”

“Be quiet!” Dusk pleaded with himself.

“And if I’m wrong? What if I really am going crazy?” said left Dusk. “What if something’s just wrong with me?”

Dusk hurled both halves of his pillow at two of his copies, who just shimmered in place and kept talking. His hooves ground into his temples.

“If you all don’t shut up I swear I’m going to—!”

A knock on the door.

“Dusk Shine. I need you to come out of there,” came Prince Solaris’ voice.

“No!” all the Dusks shouted back. “This isn’t happening! We’re all fine and everything’s fine and I’m not going crazy!”

“Of course you aren’t crazy, Dusk. Even Artemis admits to seeing what you did.”

“No he didn’t! It’s not possible!”

He heard Solaris sigh, and in an instant his rambling mind staggered to a halt. He remembered that sigh, the one that said the Prince was through with his shenanigans and was going to get serious. But it was all just too crazy to believe! He had all the proof he needed: a true vision of the only mare in the universe that mattered anymore. And every time he tried to conjure up her face he tore his gaze away again and tried to crawl back into the ignorant dark. His mind simply refused to accept that her memory was there now, boarding up its doors only to find her bursting through the windows.

He heard the doorknob turn.

“Wait, don’t!” he pleaded, unwilling to face the truth that was so terrible in its monolithic inevitability. He wasn’t sure if he was begging Solaris or himself. “Please! I’m not ready!”

Solaris pushed the door open, frowning at the mess inside. He eyed the three Dusks surrounding his student’s bed. “Simulacra?” he wondered. “Come now Dusk, you’re too old for these theatrics.” His horn glowed a blinding gold, and when it faded the entire room was back to normal. Dusk’s copies vanished into thin air. Solaris approached his bedside.

Dusk cowered under his mentor’s stern, compassionate gaze. There was an awkward silence that filled the gaping five feet of space that separated them.

“I’m not crazy,” Dusk whimpered.

“No,” said Solaris, “you are not, Dusk.” He levitated the leystone ring and slipped it over Dusk’s horn stump. “This should stop any more outbursts.”

Immediately her face receded from Dusk’s mind. What had once been an image painfully sharp and clear, like a blade so keen it hurt to look at, became dull and tolerable once more. Dusk felt more at ease already, and let his hooves drop from his temples.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and felt Solaris’ wing fold around his quivering body. He turned and buried his face in the alicorn’s chest. “I was scared. I am scared. I’m so very, very scared.”

He heard a smile in Solaris’ voice. “This is a potentially life-changing event, Dusk. I would think you were crazy if you were perfectly all right with it.”

“... Are Mom and Dad okay?”

“They will be, once they’ve heard you’ve calmed down. You gave everypony a terrible fright back there. Screaming fits and locking yourself in your room is not an encouraging sign.”

Dusk pulled back, staring sightlessly at the far wall. “But Solaris, it’s true! It’s all true! I can see her face! It’s so clear I can almost touch it!” He raised a hoof and waggled it in the air, reaching for her image in his mind’s eye. He wondered how soft her cheeks were, if he were actually able to touch them. When she turned and saw him face-to-face, her eyes had hooked him, regarding him with the wide, animal uncertainty of first contact. She had really seen him. Searched him. In her eyes he’d seen a depth of character that made himself feel dull and hollow. How bright and beautiful her eyes must be in the waking world. “And if she’s real, then... then everything is real.”

A rather horrible thought came to him. He looked up at Solaris, who wore his smile wearily.

“Does that mean there’s another of you?”

“Let’s just focus on what we’re sure of,” the Prince replied, “which isn’t much. We know for a fact now that your dream is real, Dusk, and the implications are staggering. We must tread carefully, lest we incur the wrath of some natural law we are unaware of.”

Dusk gulped. He didn’t like it when Solaris sounded unsure. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there are things in this world that supersede the power of even my brother and me. Do not worry, Dusk. This doesn’t mean that we are vulnerable, and if the reports of you and my brother are correct, we might very well be facing an onslaught of nothing more than new friends.”

Dusk wasn’t comforted, but he was quieted. The deep, gaping vastness of this new truth about the world unsettled him. He didn’t know the nature of it, but he was aware that it was somehow deeply entwined with the fact that he and his double saw each other first, and none of the others had been visited by similar visions. Even Artemis was completely unaware of what was happening until he had gone into Dusk’s head. 

As he lay against Solaris and took comfort from his presence, Dusk couldn’t help but be troubled by all the clear evidence that he might be the only one capable of understanding what was going on.

“I want to go home,” he whispered.

“To Ponyville,” Solaris said, and he gave Dusk a little squeeze. “I imagine there are some books you’d like to take with you.”

“Several,” said Dusk, pulling away from Solaris and hopping off the bed, glancing up at his shelves. “One especially. I want to give Eventide’s research another look on the train back. I’d use the teleportation sigil you taught me, but... my horn...”

“Do not worry a bit, Dusk,” Solaris said kindly. “All expenses will be paid.”

Dusk cringed. “I feel so useless.”

Solaris approached him and lifted his chin with his wing. “Hardly. You are the key to all of this, my faithful student. You have accomplished so much. There is a reason that you were given this task, to dive into the mystery of another mind, another world. And I know that you are up to this.” Solaris lowered his horn and touched the tip of it to Dusk’s stump. “You always have my blessing, Dusk Shine.”

Dusk closed his eyes and savored the contact. “I’ll do my best. And I’ll keep you up to date on everything I learn.”

“I will be awaiting your reports,” said Solaris. “Meanwhile, my brother and I will try to divine whatever we can about the nature of these... doubles, for lack of a better word.” The Prince’s eyes narrowed, squinted as if he could see something in the few inches between them. “Dusk, I have one last question, and I want you to be very sure of the answer. Was the mare you saw a dream?”

Dusk felt a shiver run through him, of fright or desire he didn’t know. “If she is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up again.”

He didn’t know why he said it. But something passed over Solaris’ unfathomable gaze that made him shiver again, and this time it was certainly out of fear.

“I have to meet her,” he said.

“I know,” said Solaris. “Fare thee well, my faithful student. Know that we are always with you.”

--------------------

Dusk mulled over Solaris’ words on the train back to Ponyville. Spines was with him, curled up on the bed of the private car they’d been given. Even though the ride was just a few short hours, Solaris had seen how affected Dusk was by all of this. Though Dusk knew his horn was still susceptible to random outbursts, as long as the ring stayed on there should be no trouble. That and he was certain Solaris had assigned a team of unicorns to watch from afar, just in case. He didn’t feel embittered, just guilty. Watching the countryside fly by, he felt another pang of guilt for the way his parents had to see him go so soon after he arrived. It had taken hours just to keep Mother from clinging to him and insisting that he needed more vegetable soup and tender loving care before leaving. 

He pulled out Eventide’s journal and flipped it to the most pertinent chapter: that of Eventide’s personal experiences with the dream realm. Solaris had given him several of the notes that accompanied her work that never made it into the books—often at Solaris’ personal behest. Though it had been magically preserved like most books that went into the Royal Archives, 

Dusk started reading where he had left off:

The nature of a dream is that of the dreamer. When a dream is observed, one requires a deep understanding of the nature of the dreamer to penetrate that dream and collect more than a superficial summary of the dreamer’s mind. For everypony is unique, and there is no way to tell the exact thoughts of another living soul. According to the word of Prince Solaris himself, there is no known power that can directly delve into and influence the mind of a dreamer. The true magic of dreams is that they are a reflection of who and what a pony is deep inside: a wondrous and vast exploration of a pony’s inner being. When we dream, our bodies and minds generate magical fields unique to every pony that we can detect whenever a pony sleeps. Like all magical emanations they have a certain quality that talented magic users can attune themselves to, though only the most powerful of unicorns can use these emanations to vicariously experience some of the feelings and thoughts a dreamer has. 

These emanations are inextricably connected to the currents of magic that flow through and around every being. Those mysterious anchors and tethers of magical power we know as leylines. A thorough study in the nature of leylines has led to extensive debate over the question of how connected we ponies are to the leyline network that spans our world. Though they undoubtedly exist and wherever they intersect great fonts of power may be found, it remains to be seen whether we ponies are indeed a part of the leyline network ourselves, or somehow developed independently of it. One of the greatest conundrums of our age is that the specific magical emanations of many leylines match those generated by dreaming ponies. The moment they awake, these emanations cease, and are unable to be replicated in a conscious state.

Many leylines are known to head in strange and often nonsensical directions, or branch off at random points. This has given rise to the belief that leylines are also connected to destinations that we are unaware of, and indeed, may never even discover.

Dusk lowered the book and looked out the window once more. He knew the concept of leylines had been around for as long as the study of magic, and in fact they were one of the reasons accurate teleportation was possible: the unicorn created a leyline of his own and pulled himself along it after creating a small magical anchor at the point of his manifestation.

He went back to the notes Solaris had given him from Eventide’s personal library, wondering what secrets they held that were too controversial to publish. He started at the beginning, watching Eventide’s life unfold before him, perfunctory and scattered though the details were across her research notes. Only one in particular stood out.

Year 683 of the Golden Age

I am uncertain what kind of results the latest tests will bring. It’s not a matter of how many spells I know, but how much power I can directly apply to the problem. And, unfortunately, every unicorn is limited in that capacity. Short of taking the Elements of Harmony for myself I’ll never be able to concentrate enough energy to cast myself into the dream realm and directly affect events within. But I have been uncovering hints of the nature of dreams: most pertinently, how interconnected they all are. A pony’s dreams are their subconscious, and their subconscious is how their mind processes the world around them. In a sense, we all create our own little worlds inside our heads. Our minds are a blank canvas when we are born, and imagination is infinite. There is no way we can know every corner of a pony’s mind; how can we? We store everything we know within, and populate the rest of the blank spaces with our wishes, our hopes, and our fears. In this manner many dreams share similar elements, and we have the phenomenon we call the Spirit of the Times: that collective pool of subconscious knowledge that impels whole societies.

That is why my latest experiment has awakened such anxiety within me. I have not yet attuned myself to a pony suffering from night terrors. I can only hope it will advance our knowledge and bring succor to the afflicted. What effect it will have on me I do not enjoy theorizing about. The Prince has expressed misgivings with my line of work. I try to see it as concern for my safety—but his manner is much too guarded for that. 

Before Dusk could go on, he heard the train whistle ring. Next stop: Ponyville.

Home.

---------------

Home. 

Twilight had come home. After a long and thankfully uneventful walk (barring a few trees being aged back to saplings by her errant magic), she crested a hill where the forest came to an abrupt end and beheld the whole expanse of Ponyville spreading out below. The happy white brick and rustic thatch roofs, nestled against the Everfree and clustered around the sparkling river that ran through their center, had never been prettier. She should’ve known her seemingly random teleport would bring her here. She’d wanted to go somewhere safe, where she wouldn’t be hunted or judged or looked harshly upon. Where else would she feel all that but in the place where her dearest friends lived?

It wouldn’t be long before Celestia came to the same conclusion and sent ponies to collect her. Really, it was obvious she’d come here sooner or later. She laughed at the bitter irony that swelled up like bile from her stomach and pressed on, skirting the edge of the forest. If that was Ponyville, she’d ended up in Whitetail Wood, and she couldn’t risk wandering into the middle of town. Not with a broken horn that could go wild at the slightest provocation. Daisy, Rose and Lily would have their requisite hysterical fits. The Mayor would scold her for all the paperwork. Her friends would come running to her aid.

Tired, she thought. So tired. I didn’t teleport here. I landed here. That explains the twinge in my leg. And my everything else. Are those burns I feel on my face? I think I sprained something. If I just went to the hospital...

No. She couldn’t have attention, even the kind she craved most right now. She needed to lay low, get her books, and leave. Celestia would put that thing on her horn again. She’d shove her student into a cage, like some pitiful object to be gawked at from a safe distance. 

There was only one real solution, one destination she could be sure she could lay low until she was well enough to move on. A place that sang to her battered psyche and led her on an invisible tether once her mind grabbed hold of the idea.

She veered toward the Everfree, dodging the Ponyville park and all the foals that played there, taking special caution to keep watch for Applejack as she dodged under the cool shade of Sweet Apple Acres’ apple trees. The dappled sunlight danced over a carpet of green, calling out to Twilight’s sore head and muscles to sit down and sleep. The Acres’ harvesting days were near. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees in full bloom made her long to stay, to fall into the hospitality of the Apple family’s waiting hooves and pretend all her problems were gone. The desire was washed away with the very next breeze. Twilight spat on the ground, ignoring the sacrilege; this wasn’t the Equestria she knew anymore.

A small part of her begged her to reconsider, that tiny little rational worm crawling around at the edges of her conscious mind who remembered long days in Canterlot under the wing of the Princess, nestled in some quiet corner of the library with only Celestia to come and bother her. She stepped on it and walked on. Once, she thought she heard the sound of a pony bucking a tree and stopped to listen, ears perked and straining. The wind shifted and the sound did not come again.

Past Sweet Apple Acres, she crossed a small creek and into another patch of woodland, wilder and more disorganized than Applejack’s neat rows. Here and there she spotted holes in the ground leading under trees and bushes, and further on she spotted birdhouses crafted with loving hooves, painted gentle pinks and whites and blues. Curious animals became a veritable crowd of onlookers who peered at the scowling unicorn as she tramped through their flower-laden shelter, heedless of who or what she almost stepped on. A hummingbird fluttered closer to investigate, chased off by a loud crack and a spark from Twilight’s horn stump. Thorns and a few low hanging branches got in her way, dragging through her mane and fur coat, but every new irritation fueled her anger and made her even more determined to simply shove her way through. A bunny rabbit squeaked indignantly at her, but she thrust it away with a hoof that felt like a lead weight. She was exhausted after her confrontation with the Princesses and her ceaseless walk over uneven ground, and cursed her procrastination over asking Rainbow to coach her.

“I don’t have time for this,” she grumbled.

Breaking free of the treeline, she looked up to see the blossoming font of life that was Fluttershy’s cottage. The serene sight of milling animals and singing birds brought chills down Twilight’s spine, the emotions connected to Fluttershy running strong. Her gentle touch, the sound of her kind voice, the everpresent glow of Kindness that surrounded her. Here she would find peace. Her horn made a disagreeable snap as it sparked with more magic, shooting a bolt up that transmogrified a nearby blossom into an orange.

“Shoot,” she hissed, and resisted the urge to go closer. Fluttershy would be put in danger by Twilight’s errant horn, but what else could she do? Hide in Fluttershy’s garden and eat the leftovers of her pets’ meals? She couldn’t do that. She might set the whole place ablaze. She might harm someone or somepony else, but she couldn’t hide out in the woods forever, either. What logical parts of her mind were left insisted that she had to try and trust her friends, to believe that they were willing to put themselves on the line for her, even if the danger came from Twilight herself.

She marched out of the forest and made a beeline for the cottage, ears perking as she heard Fluttershy’s voice, then saw the pegasus herself arise like a guardian angel from among her chicken coops. She was singing, and her voice was beautiful after the suffering Twilight had endured so far. Twilight felt her stamina eroding with every step and everything else peeled away until only Fluttershy’s voice was left. It rose and fell, bounced and lilted. Twilight closed her eyes as she hobbled towards her friend, trying to grab on to the flowery tunes and be lifted weightlessly away with them.

She didn’t stop until she crashed into the chicken pen. With a yelp she pitched forward over the wire mesh fence, and a blast of magic erupted from her horn, smashed into the coop, and upended it. A whirlwind of angry, panicked chickens came flooding out, and from her face-down position in the dirt, Twilight heard the siren sound of Fluttershy’s singing turn to shrieking.

“What?! Twilight! Elizbeak! Florence! Calm down, please!”

“I’m calm,” Twilight said, struggling to her hooves. She watched Fluttershy’s eyes change from concern to shock and even a hint of terror, realizing she must have looked a mess: scratched, exhausted, and a little singed from her explosive landing. Her legs wobbled to hold her weight as she finally allowed herself to realize how tired she was. This close to safety, her mind was simply shutting down, giving up control to the first kind soul that passed by.

Fluttershy was at her side in an instant, enveloping her in a blanket of soft feathers and tender hooves. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and very nearly collapsed then and there as Fluttershy fussed over her. “Oh, no! Twilight, what happened? No, don’t talk. Hurry, come over here. Oh, please calm down, little chickens! It’s just Twilight!”

“M’sorry,” Twilight mumbled, crawling over the wire mesh onto the soft dirt of Fluttershy’s lawn. But as she stood up, her vision went black and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She took only two steps before dropping again, and didn’t get back up.

The last thing she heard was Fluttershy’s voice, telling her everything would be all right.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a train whistle.

She leapt from her cushioned seat and packed away the books she’d taken for the trip, getting a good glance at one in particular: Eventide’s Treatise on the Dream Realm. Her stare lingered on it for reasons she didn’t quite realize at the time, and she decided to head left once she—

No, she went right instead.

“Spines!” she called, and a baby dragon hustled to catch up. She didn’t mean to call Spines, but the little dragon came anyway. Such a diligent helper.

She passed the train conductor, wondering when he shaved his mustache. And lost several pounds. But she did catch the way his eyes lingered on what was left of her horn, and it bothered her.

“Good to be home,” she said, trying to stop and take a breath of Ponyville’s fresh air after the cloistered, dusty atmosphere in Canterlot. But she didn’t do that at all. Instead, she kept going. But that was all right. She was too tired to think of anything but rest.

And then a voice called out to her, terrifyingly familiar. 

“Dusk!”

She stopped, though she knew it wasn’t her name. Something about the voice made her want to turn and reply. It wasn’t that she knew the voice, for it was a stallion’s and she didn’t know many of those in Ponyville, certainly none who would wait at a train station for her. It was the way the name came off the tongue of her caller, the meaning packed into that one short syllable. A voice that said they hadn’t met in a long time and spent much of it worrying. A voice of relief and happiness. The voice of a good friend.

She turned with a smile that wasn’t her own and saw the floral patterned curtains of Fluttershy’s bedroom window. A downy pillow that supported her head and neck without being too firm hugged the contours of her face, and two blankets that just might have been the softest things she’d ever touched rested atop her. She was nestled and warm, and the smell of tea wafted up through a crack in the door, along with heady tingle of magic resting heavily on the room. Twilight looked up and around, hoping nothing had been destroyed in her sleep, or worse, that Fluttershy had been harmed.

A purplish glow saturated the room, drowning out all sound save that of an ethereal chime, doubtless some kind of side effect of her broken horn. As she watched, the glow faded before her eyes. Apparently, Fluttershy hadn’t noticed the strange lights, because she didn’t come up even as normal sound and color returned to the room. Twilight watched a patch of sunlight crawl over the floor, too tired to think about sleep and too tired to move. Instead of calling out, she waited, and she pondered.

Dusk.

Something about the name made her shiver, and she pulled the blankets more tightly around her, nuzzling her cheek into the pillow while she listened to the animals moving about in the walls and scuttling over the floor. It didn’t bother her, neither did the sound of Fluttershy moving through the house. All her thoughts were on the strange dream.

No, not a dream... not anymore. Reality. A new reality. Dusk... Is that his name? Was I seeing what he saw?

She closed her eyes and tried to get him back, but it was much too late. The memory of the dream remained, but not whatever she had done to establish the connection. She hadn’t felt like she was actually there, more an observer than a participant. But it was clear by now that something had changed. A single variable—Luna’s memory block—was gone, and she was more connected to him than ever before.

And he was in Ponyville.

She heard timid hoofsteps at the door and looked up to see Fluttershy bearing a tray of steaming tea and biscuits on one wing.

“Um, hello Twilight,” she whispered. “I brought you some tea.”

Twilight didn’t answer. Fluttershy stammered and walked to the bedside, setting the tray down on the lampstand. “You were a mess, Twilight. Scratches and burns all over. I bandaged what I could. I hope you don’t mind.”

More silence.

Fluttershy scuffed a hoof on the floor. “If you like, you can stay here while you—”

“He’s here,” said Twilight.

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Him? Him who?”

“The one from my dreams.” Twilight closed her eyes and smiled serenely. “I know it. He’s in Ponyville, like me. I really do know who he is.”

Fluttershy gulped.

“His name is Dusk,” whispered Twilight. “Something magical just happened. I saw the world through his eyes. It was like he was wearing me. We were so close... but still so far away. It took so much energy it made the whole room glow.”

Twilight opened her eyes again and saw Fluttershy biting her lower lip.

“Oh,” she gasped, “that must have been that itchy feeling I got in my wings.”

Twilight nodded, and the world swam around her. “Pegasi conduct magic through their wings. Only natural a high concentration is felt there. My horn...” She crossed her eyes and looked up. “Now that it’s broken, it’s out of control. It’s like my magic is calling to him now, and I can’t stop it.” She sighed. “And I don’t even want to.”

Fluttershy hid her face behind her mane. “Then it’s all real? I really did see it?”

Twilight blinked. “See what?”

Fluttershy let out a tiny puff of breath, like a foal gearing up to reveal a big secret. Her eyes rose to meet Twilight’s gaze, wide and pleading, quivering with emotion. She looked excited and terrified. She looked expectant, knowing and fearing what came next.

“Oh, Twilight,” she said in a quaking whisper, “I saw everything.”

A chill came over Twilight, but Fluttershy suddenly couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. A growing knot of painful pressure grew at the base of Twilight’s horn and slowly wound its way up through the jagged edges that remained at the top, pulsing with every word from Fluttershy.

“We were standing in that nasty hallway, with you and Luna there, and there was that big black curtain, drawn over the world, it seemed like. And you and Luna were arguing, and I’m really really sorry, but I was trying not to get involved. The Elements were...” fluttershy furrowed her brow, staring vacantly downward. “... They were trying to say something, and I felt like listening to them instead of what you and Luna were saying. It was like a sound of silence, when you know something should be there but isn’t and you’re more aware of it not being there instead of... well, it was bad, whatever it was. And then you turned to that awful wall and pointed your horn at it. And it just kind of... lifted.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes as Fluttershy cringed, hiding her eyes behind her mane again and lifting a wing to take shelter against something. 

“It was awful, Twilight. Like you finally realized something that you should have a long time ago, and you think about all the time that was wasted up until then. Like... like when I attended that silly assertiveness conference and didn’t know I was driving everypony away until it was too late, except a hundred thousand times worse! I almost started crying right then and there! But then it lifted away and I looked closer, and... and I...”

Fluttershy turned away, shuddering, and dropped her flanks to the floor. She seemed smaller to Twilight, hunched and miserable, her voluminous tail coiled around her haunches as she curled up and hugged herself. Like something horrible had happened.

Like a good friend left her.

“What did you see?” she prodded.

Fluttershy shivered.

“You saw him, didn’t you?”

Fluttershy looked over her shoulder at Twilight, who was shocked by the pain in her eyes. Her voice was as brittle as an autumn leaf.

“I saw me.”

Twilight gulped.

Fluttershy rubbed her shoulders and sighed. “Only, it wasn’t me. It—he—was another kind of me. A part of me I didn’t know I’d been missing but now that I do... oh, Twilight. I wish I’d never seen him! But at the same time I’m so glad I did! It was like finally hearing somepony say they love you. And it hurts that it took so long, but you’re so happy it finally happened! Oh, I read too many of Rarity’s books...”

The pressure at the base of Twilight’s horn couldn’t be held back any longer. A white-hot lance of energy surged through her body, unstoppable, abrupt and painful. Twilight cried out and her back arched to the breaking point as a spasm wracked her body.. She thrashed and pushed her hoof into the door, opening it gently and peeking inside.

“Home sweet home,” she said, looking up at shelves upon shelves of books. The library waited for her, and she turned to Spines and smiled at her. “I’m... going to sit down for a while. I don’t feel so good.”

She reached up and touched her broken horn, feeling the leystone ring that she knew wasn’t there. “Stupid thing must not be working right. My head hurts.”

“Should I go get the others?” Spines asked.

“... Yeah. Yeah, you should. If the memory came back for all of us... we got some talking to do.”

She tramped up the stairs, letting the saddlebags slough off her sides, and sat at her desk. She reached up to her face and pressed her hooves against her temples as hard as they would go. The pain got worse, increasing in intensity until she fell over with a loud thud. Spines—no, Fluttershy was screaming her name in the background of the maelstrom of magic that surrounded her, whipping a flowerpot and several pictures of Angel Bunny around at hurricane velocities.

“Stop it,” she growled at herself, and her voice was so thick with emotion the words felt like fudge coming up from her throat. “Stop it now. This is Fluttershy’s house! Stop it!”

It stopped. The flowerpot, the pictures, and herself fell with a crash. Twilight realized she’d been floating, and saw the purple glow from before surrounding her body. It pulsated and shimmered, ceaselessly changing and chaotic, but always beautiful. She turned towards the sound of crying and saw Fluttershy huddled in the corner, immersed in a gentle yellow light. Unlike Twilight’s bombastic corona, Fluttershy’s aura was like it had been in the dream realm: steady and muted, delicate enough that it seemed a puff of wind would blow it away. But it clung to her regardless like a stubbornly caring mother figure, and gradually, the tears streaming down Fluttershy’s cheeks stopped. She opened her eyes and looked at Twilight.

Twilight flinched away. There was fear in her friend’s eyes.

“I heard it again,” Fluttershy whimpered, “just like the dream. The Elements were talking to us.”

“The library,” said Twilight, “we have to go there. I have to get there, Fluttershy.”

“What? But why—”

“Because he’s there. And if that’s where he is, that’s where I have to go. There’s some books I need to read.”

She tossed the covers away, looking at the mess she’d made of Fluttershy’s room. Tea and biscuits were scattered everywhere.

“I’m so sorry... I’ll try to help clean this.” Her horn sparked and fizzled out the moment she tried to levitate the shattered flowerpot. Fluttershy stood up and hurried to her side.

“No, please don’t strain yourself! I’ll clean it, really.”

“But Fluttershy—”

“You’re my friend, Twilight,” said Fluttershy, leaning closer, her eyes alive with compassion and concern. “You need to rest. Don’t worry. Just sit down now, and we’ll get your books in a little bit, okay?”

Twilight tried to break free again, but another wave of dizziness overtook her, flashes of another life intruding on her vision. She was guided by Fluttershy to fall back on the bed, groaning.

“I’ll... I’ll try. But we don’t have much time. The Princesses...”

She stopped, her breath hitching in her throat. Everything began to press down on her all at once. The revelations, the memories, the pain of her beloved mentor turning against her had become too much. Her horn went to her sweaty forehead as Fluttershy tended to her, tucking her back in.

“The Princesses what, Twilight?”

“They’re coming,” Twilight gasped. “Coming for me. And probably all of you, too. Luna never meant for us to see what we did. Something went horribly wrong when I got my memories back.”

Twilight smiled viciously. “Or something went terribly right.”

Fluttershy’s gaze was confused and pitying. Twilight shook her head.

“They’re going to try and stop us. We can’t let that happen. Fluttershy, did the rest of the girls talk about what we saw?”

Fluttershy ducked her head down. “No, Twilight. It happened just yesterday, after all. I was just puttering around in the living room, helping the squirrels with their game of ‘hide the acorn,’ when all of a sudden, I just had the strangest feeling, and then it all just came rushing back out of nowhere. It hit me like an updraft! I was bedridden for the rest of the day, and I was much too scared to try and confront any of the other girls about it.”

Twilight reached out and touched her shoulder. “It’s all right, Fluttershy. It was supposed to happen. It must have coincided with my memories being unlocked too.”

“You don’t know how it happened?” said Fluttershy, aghast.

Twilight smiled. “No. But I have some ideas. Oh, Fluttershy, I really don’t think we’re alone in this. I think they’re trying to find us too, whoever they are. The other us. We need to help them, we need to find each other, and then we’ll finally be able to figure out what’s going on.”

Fluttershy tapped her hoof on the floor, cowering behind her mane again. “I’d like that,” she said in the barest hint of a whisper. “And I think... I think I’d like to meet him. The way you want to meet him.”

Twilight blinked. “Him? Not me... oh. You. That must have been something.”

Fluttershy nodded, and the ghost of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“I only got the shortest glimpse. But he seemed... nice.”

Twilight collapsed back onto the bed.

“My library is the most important thing right now. That, and gathering the rest of the Elements together. If the Princesses come for me again I don’t know what I’ll do. I hope they don’t.”

“But aren’t they trying to help?” Fluttershy murmured. “Twilight, what happened up there?”

“It’s a long story,” Twilight whispered, turning over and curling up under the blankets again. She suddenly felt so very tired. “Right now all I want are my books.”

Fluttershy nodded, and the look in her eyes said that she was too kind to press the issue. “All right, Twilight. All right. We’ll go.”

When the sun finally set, they did.

Twilight wrapped herself in a cloak when it was dark and headed into Ponyville, telling Fluttershy to go and fetch the others as soon as possible. She kept her head down and didn’t look a single pony in the eye as she made a beeline for her home, the pull of her other getting stronger with each passing step, overriding the nerve-wracking fear she felt whenever she heard a pony’s hooves get too close.  Every time she felt her magic act up her heart skipped a beat, but there wasn’t anything else that could be done. She’d left the leystone ring in Canterlot, and there was no way she was putting it back on now. She passed by Sugarcube Corner, and for once Pinkie Pie didn’t come bursting out of the door. Twilight couldn’t help but wonder if she remembered the dream too and was as subdued as Fluttershy.

She reached the door to her library without any incident and the thought passed over her that maybe she needn’t be so paranoid. Then she remembered who she was dealing with.

Heck, going to sleep might be dangerous now. Luna’s probably watching for my dreams. I’m not exactly being subtle here, either, but if it means getting at my old books...

How long would it be before she was found out by them? Another day? Another hour? She had to be quick. And poor Spike... poor Mom and Dad! They were probably all worried sick. Twilight promised herself she’d explain everything once this was over and done with. But who knew how long that would be?

She put a hoof to the door, feeling a strange kind of power emanate from it. It wasn’t an enchantment. It was just the wonderful knowledge that she was finally coming home. 

Before she could stop it, her magic reacted. Her covering cloak was ripped off by a burst of purple light and disintegrated into a flurry of cloth butterflies, fluttering disjointedly away on the evening air. Twilight stood completely exposed on her own doorstep.

“Hey,” she heard a pony who had yet to close his fruit stall, “isn’t that—”

She swung inside and slammed the door shut. A cold sweat rushed over her as she turned around to see her beloved books, still lined up in neat rows undisturbed. She leaned in and tried to force a spell from her broken horn, but all that came out was a fizz of raw magic. Still, nothing reacted to it as it bounced over the floor and then exploded into vanishing sparks. Celestia hadn’t been here, then. Not yet, anyway.

She hurried to the nearest shelf and began her search. Eventide was not a name that was familiar to her, but perhaps there were other things she hadn’t considered. Talking about alternate realities meant anything and everything could be connected, in ways both logical and abstract. She had to think outside the box now. A shiver ran down her spine as she considered the neat little rows. She’d seen him come home to Ponyville. Was her home his own, too? She imagined him taking her steps just as she’d taken his, touching the same floor, breathing the same air. Her horn stub fizzled agreeably. This was where she wanted to be, among her—their?—books. But which one did she need?

Are you here? she wondered. Reading the same titles? Perusing the same shelves? Are we looking for the same thing? For each other? Will I find what you’re looking for, if I just...

She reached out and put her hoof on a certain book, tracing her hoof over the gilded lettering of the title. She closed her eyes and spoke it aloud, with the preciseness of an incantation.

“Tinker Tailor’s Scientific Journal Collection...”

--------------

“... Volume One,” Dusk read as he brushed his hoof over the granulated binding. “No, that won’t have what I need. It has to be here somewhere! Spines, did you find anything?”

“Nope!” the little dragoness replied. “Are you sure it’s not back in Canterlot?”

“I looked,” replied Dusk, “twice. Eventide had more books to her name than even what Canterlot had, and I know I kept at least a few of them here. Ugh, if only Solaris hadn’t tried to keep a tight lid on all this!”

“Why do you think he didn’t want this kinda research done, anyway?” Spines asked from her perch atop one of the browsing ladders, running her claw over title after title. “You don’t think he knows something, do you?”

“He was as surprised as I was about... whatever this all is,” Dusk insisted, hating having to manually yank his precious books from their comfortable alcoves, watching his dirty hooves scatter granules of Solaris-knew-what over their fragile bindings. How he wished he could use his magic to give them the delicate touch they needed! “I don’t think he’s in the know. Or if he is, keeping the art of dreamseeing secret had to be for a good reason. Maybe there just wasn’t a good or safe way to do it until Artemis came back. It is his magic, after all.”

He grumbled and grunted his way through the shelves, wishing he’d organized the last reshelving better. This headache wasn’t helping things, either. It was like something was trying to get into his head from the outside. But he couldn’t risk removing the ring and annihilating all his books with one misfired spell.

“Did you find anything?” he asked Spines.

Spines shrugged. “Just the sudden realization we should check the basement. We got all your old books stored there, right?”

--------------

“Yeah, it’s that door on the left—”

Twilight turned her head.

Nothing but the door leading to her basement.

Twilight shivered, but kept her eyes focused on the blank space in front of her. She was certain she’d heard a voice calling to her—no, not her, to him. Maybe the fatigue was getting to her.

No, that’s silly. You know you can’t rely on totally mundane explanations anymore.

A month ago she would’ve passed it off as an auditory hallucination. But now she knew better.

She pushed the door open and turned on the lights, taking each step down the stairs with deliberate pauses, waiting for any other sign of the other world to leak into hers. Her lab equipment surrounded her, and in the dreary light the dusty machines looked more intimidating than usual. like she was a simple filly intruding on some other mad scientist’s basement. She knew she owned it, but it wasn’t all hers anymore. Somewhere, it also belonged to him.

She made a beeline for her book storage, opening the door and peering into the magically moderated room. Dusk was looking for Eventide, a pony who had researched dreams centuries ago. She didn’t know any authors here that might match the description of anypony like that, but if he was looking down here, then she must too. Another sharp pain exploded from her horn as she followed Spines into the cramped space, looking over her shoulder as they went down the only aisle, stopping when the dragon did. Her claw reached up and hooked a single volume.

“Eventide’s old research,” she said, needing both hands to hold the hefty book up to Twilight’s face. ‘The Collected Works of Eventide’ was emblazoned on the cover in gold lettering. “The unabridged addition, heh. If anything’s gonna help, it’ll be in here.”

Twilight blinked and found herself five steps forward from where she’d just been standing. The little dragon had been standing right in front of her, holding a book up to her face. She knelt down level with the place Spines had snatched the tome from, and saw only a thin, worn little manuscript. It had no title and no distinguishing marks save its age. It was covered in plain brown binding, old and cracked, and the pages were yellowed. With as much gentleness as her hooves could manage, she pulled the book from its alcove and set it down on the floor, peeling back the cover. The old binding crackled like an old pony’s limbs.

Morningtide. The name stood out like a beacon on the rough, ill-kept paper. This was her world’s Eventide. She remembered vague references, research that had gone nowhere. An old researcher from before her time, seeking the night even as Celestia’s Sun stood supreme over the land. Books that Celestia said were useless, but hadn’t begrudged her taking a few for her private study.  Probably thought she’d never read all of them, or would never recognize their significance. Certainly, if Celestia was as secretive as Twilight suspected, even this ancient copy of Morningtide’s writings would be censored and incomplete. But she had to start somewhere.

She watched as Morningtide’s life blossomed before her.

Year 687 of the Golden Age

To Whomever It May Concern,

What a silly name, this “golden age.” To think that ponies have worshiped Celestia as the sole cause for everything we have accomplished. She is not as all-knowing as we have been led to believe; but then, we ponies led ourselves to that conclusion. Though Celestia is a beacon of hope and love for us all, we put the hooks in our mouths and gave the leads into her hooves. She did not stop us, but she did not encourage us either. Perhaps she believes that inaction will somehow prove that we follow her purely out of love and not fear of the unknown.

It was into the unknown that I delved at her behest. Now I am forced to watch my work be sealed away, or worse, burned in the manner the griffons do away with their heretics. These thin pages contain everything I was able to salvage purely from my own memory, and Celestia has not left me with much of that either. In here I saved the truth. Not just about Celestia, but about me.

Celestia may say she regrets what happened, but in the end she was to blame. Somehow I remember that much, for she left me with nothing. She left me powerless and broken with a pat on the head like some senile old goat. I’ve been given a healthy pension and a small house in the fields beneath Canterlot, with a lock placed upon my mind as effective as any gag order. But I cannot remember why I cannot remember. I remember the path that led here, but the details elude me. I know Celestia did it; she told me so herself. But why? Why must every morning now be filled with so much emptiness? I know I am missing something. Every night I have a dream, a dream so important and meaningful to me alone that I must remember it, but I cannot.

My passion, my reason for being, started with a dream, and it ended with one. They were separated by years, but their immediacy, their importance in my lifetime, puts them right next to each other in my mind—except one is now gone. The only one left is the only one I could hide from Celestia, because she took the other. She couldn’t take the first, the one that set me on this path, the one that gave me my cutie mark. I remember it clear as day, because it brought me here, inevitably, lovingly, like a foal is pulled from the womb. Although the thought of it still strikes me with terror, know that it was, in the end, a good dream.

I am in a field. A wide, lovely, gently rolling field. Behind me is my house and the forest it sat on the edge of, and I can see the silhouette of my mother in the window, bustling with something or other. I frolick as any child would, feeling as if nothing in the world could hurt me. There are sunflowers, red flowers, blue, along with the deep green grass. 

I come to the top of a hill, and I can look over my shoulder and see all the details of my house, the forest, and the field. Even the sky is rendered in such perfect definition that I can make out the tiniest wisps of cloud, close enough to touch. And I do touch them, drawing the clouds down and laughing because I know I’m not a pegasus, and this is so silly but it’s fun, and I do not think about what it could mean.

I tear down a cloud from the sky and push it about on the ground, then leap into it, enjoying the way the lightning inside strikes me back. I push and push deeper into the fog, until I find a face. It is my face, and yet, not my face. It is like a mirror image with only some of the slightest adjustments. My snout is narrower, my eyes bigger, my body smaller. A brush of silvery-gray in the mane where mine is a solid white. It is a filly’s face, but that does not strike me as bothersome. Something about it strikes a chord in me and I think it is supposed to be frightful, but I’m having too much fun to think.  I smile and the other me smiles right when I do, and we start to play. But we never quite come together. We race back and forth along an invisible line, dance around an unseen axis, mirroring each other’s every move. How silly, I think, that my playmate only does what I do, but does it in such a different way. We turn and run and dance together, laughing, and then we realize it is suddenly late and we must go home.

I turn around and see my house, but it is not my house. It is the same and yet it is not. The window is on the wrong side. The shadow within does not look like my mother. The forest itself is alien to me. How can it be my home and yet all the feelings of familiarity be stripped away?

I turn and come face-to-face with my other. We grin at each other for our silliness, because we had gotten turned around in our playtime and were about to go to each other’s homes. But would that be so bad, I wonder?

We stand in the exact same place as when we met, moving with such precision it is like watching it all in reverse. And then I turn and troop right back to my home.

I never had that dream again. But when I awoke, I found myself with my cutie mark: a pony slumbering in a blanket of stars. My talent is wrapped up as snugly with the dream realm as a foal with their blanket. The one dream that led me on this path so long ago, the very one that gave me my mark, is the one dream I can remember, and the one dream that I wish I could forget. It has given and taken away so much of my life, yet it led to this: puttering away until the day I die.

I feel miserable and tired all the time, not just because my years of research are gone. I feel the keenest sense of longing. I want to see that strange otherworld in my cutie mark dream again. I want to go there. I want to finish my research. I want so many things. But I can’t have them. I feel like a painting that needs just one more brushstroke, one more daub, and I will be complete. But it seems I will go to the grave never knowing that bliss. Whoever comes after me, whoever finds this next, use what is in these pages. Do not let my work go unfinished. For all that Celestia burned, she can’t take away what brought me here. She cannot stop me from doing what I must. Some say a cutie mark is a pony’s destiny. If so, then it seems my destiny is to preserve that dream, and let it be passed on to you. My dream is yours now, because one other thing I can remember is that no dreamer dreams alone.

------

Dusk Shine’s eyes flew over the pages. Ensconced in the alcove between shelves in his book storage, he refused to come out until he had finished Eventide’s entire text.

The Prince does not know how it happened. Neither do I, but I know my research led to it. It led me to that dark place where I found something, something hidden and deep and full of lies, and then I was dragged back... by the Prince? By something else? By truth itself? Perhaps it is the nature of the world to keep its own secrets. Magic is as inscrutable as it is amazing. Many ponies would say that it’s a sign I should give up. They can all see it: the bags under my eyes, the way I snap at anypony who gets too close. I lost something, yes. But I hope that in recording what happened, those who come after me will avoid the mistakes that I did.

To start, many ponies believe that our dreams are somehow separate from what we do during the day.

I know better. I know all about the leylines, the emanations that come from a sleeping pony, and the loss of such intangible magic when we wake. But to know where the so-called Terminal Leylines actually go—for they must go somewhere, as no magical energy simply ceases to be—I had reach into places that nopony has thought to seek out before. I had to try something that only legends of a lost Prince and dark secrets speak of.

I had to immerse myself in the magical emanations of the dream realm itself. I remember my cutie mark dream as though it were yesterday, where I met myself and so started along the path to dream research. But now it all seems so far away. This is an account of what I have done in my attempt to understand what my dream and so many others meant, and how in chasing after what gave me meaning, I let it slip out of my grasp.

Dusk hurriedly flipped through the pages to where Eventide’s research began.

April the Twenty-Second

I have confirmed my first theory: the magical emanations of leylines are indeed connected to dreaming, not simply similar. To attune oneself to the magic of the world is to tap into a vast reservoir of creative energy. This energy resonates through all the ages of the world and is naturally drawn to living creatures. When we dream, we automatically attune ourselves to the emanations of the leylines, the lifeblood of some great work of art completed long ago. To look at the world as scientifically and objectively as one might regard the blueprints of a house is a mistake that I have at last rectified over many nights of sleeping and pondering. My books have already discussed the nature of dreams: how they are a peek at a pony’s inner being, at how a pony reacts to, desires to impose their will upon, and lives in objective reality. 

Dreams are not a blueprint of our mind. They are a painting. And paintings can be unclear, abstract. We do not all see the world in the same way, nor do our desires always match. Every dream is a brushstroke on an infinite canvas randomly determined by everypony’s unique nature. Uniqueness is essential to creativity, and I would put forward that creation itself is a kind of magic.

Consider this. When a pony dreams, and I attune myself to their magical emanations, it is the same kind of activity a unicorn would use to cast a spell, or an earth pony that wishes to knock down a wall without injury, or a pegasus uses to alight upon a cloud without it vanishing under their hooves. So then, one can only be led to the conclusion that dreams, intrinsically connected as they are to leylines and thus the magical energy of the world, are a kind of spell that we cast in our sleep. Dreams, therefore, are a glimpse into a pony’s purest creative impulses. When we see a dream, we are seeing a pony’s nature in its rawest, most natural form.

I have seen a great many dreams in my time. Ponies by the hundreds have described them to me. I have stacks of dream journals that describe landscapes impossible in the real world, and feats of strength and agility even the most powerful ponies fail to imagine. But is this something that comes from within us, or is it something that magic inflicts upon us?

Magic itself is an Element of Harmony.  What kind of implications does this have, if dreams are so deeply connected to the very magic that binds our world together? It is time for more research. I have decided to use the following thaumaturgic pathways to increase my output and attune myself more closely to the dreams I witness. Hopefully, it will let me glean more than glimpses and base emotions. Soon I hope to acquire a full viewing of a dream.

May the Fifth

Prince Solaris himself visited me today. We talked at length about the nature of my research and how it is coming along. In truth, it is progressing faster than even I anticipated. The mystery is not how to attune oneself to a dreamer’s emanations anymore; having discovered it is as simple as casting a spell, the trouble now comes from discerning the nature of what I see and feel once the spell is complete.

Like I and many other researchers have put forward, in spite of dreams being as unique as snowflakes, they share common themes, just as snowflakes are all made of water and have their origins in the same clouds. Hopes, desires, great loves, ambitions; all find a comfortable niche in everypony’s mind, no matter how eccentric or removed from the world.

In this way, I believe dreams are connected to each other as well.

As my understanding increases, so too does the width and breadth of my vision in the dream realm. I have seen the Equestria that resides in the minds of its citizens, separate from us yet straddling objective reality in ways we will never know. Even dreamers in their infinite wanderings have seen only a fraction of what ponies have created within the landscapes of their minds. I told the Prince everything I could, in what words a scientist like me can conjure. How could I describe in the plain, dry language of research what monstrous beauty resides in a pony’s mind?  I was frightened by what I saw, but also enamored, ready and eager to move forward. I begged the Prince to give me more power, access to higher level spells usually reserved for a time of crisis. I grew a bit flustered during the conversation and I believe he noticed, for he did not grant me access to the secure wings of the Royal Archives. More than that, he warned me that going too deep into magic that was ‘not my own’ could be dangerous.

I asked what he meant by that, and then he looked at me very queerly, tilting his head as if to divine something only he could sense.

“There is a pony I know who is periodically afflicted with night terrors,” he said, and the words chilled me to the bone. “Look into her dreams next and report to me what you will find.”

And so I will.

May the Sixteenth

Journal, how do I describe a living nightmare? How do I tell you what my own eyes have seen, what it’s like to be wearing the body of another pony as they suffer through the most insidious tortures they can inflict upon themselves? I am in hardly any state to write, but I must for the sake of my research. A nightmare is still a dream, after all, and I cannot be put off by jitters in the dark.

I have experienced nightmares before of course, vicariously through various test subjects. I’ve been covered in spiders, hunted by wolves, and assaulted by caricatures of childhood bullies. I’ve been burned, squashed, mangled and tortured, drowned, lost, abandoned and hopeless. But always I knew it was not my dream, for my cutie mark assured me the weak, instinctive fears of the mind held no power over me. The terror of a nightmare is limited by what we can imagine, and while that is quite a lot, I have never been unsure that I could end my fear with a simple application of my prodigious willpower, if you will excuse some flattery. I need it after that hideous night.

The pony that Solaris referred to in my last entry was in fact one of the Court Wizards, a pre-eminent wizard by the name of Daisy Dew. I welcomed her into my office once a night for well over a week, always careful to express my gratitude that she would sacrifice her time tending to her duties to come to me. Of course it was by Solaris’ direct orders, but it never hurts to be courteous. She was taller than I thought she would be, slender of limb and of a lime-green coloration, with a bountiful mane of bright pink. Her cutie mark was an astronomer’s telescope, and her chief duty is to chart the movements of the stars across the sky. I wondered at how grand and enlightening such a thing might be, but she gave me a curious smile and said only that no matter how bright the lights in the sky are, there are always dark spaces between them.

The nocturnal life is no stranger to me, and I was forced to stay up all night and watch for any signs of the night terrors Daisy Dew was afflicted with. Fortunately, it took only three nights for the first and only one that I could bear to present itself.

Oh, how can I even put it into words? I thought I’d seen the worst ponykind had to offer, dear Journal, but this was nothing that came from ponykind.

The first sign that something was wrong were her own emanations when the dreamstate began. Before, it never mattered what the pony’s position or personality. When a pony dreamed, their emanations would take on always different yet recognizable and organized patterns, as unique as snowflakes but beautiful in their orderliness. Strong lines and blooming arches, particles that swirl around you once you train your horn to sense them. But this was like looking into a great space full of nothing but silence. It pounded and pulsated in my ears the moment my magic came into contact with it and I instinctively jerked away, my composure almost instantly undone. Oh, Journal, it was like the most horrible symphony I have ever heard: a blank space in sound and sight, a gap in existence itself, a place where there is truly Nothing. 

But when I tried to pull away, the darkness reeled me back in. 

You will find in my other works the necessary precautions to undertaking feats like dreamseeing, and I assure I’d taken them all: I’d gotten plenty of rest, gone through the requisite meditations and cast the fail-safes that would yank me out of any precarious position. They had never failed me before when a dream became too much to bear. But this was something different, something Other that plucked my defenses and tossed them away as if they were nothing. I was out of control and knew it, but there was no way to stop or awaken Daisy Dew; I was a prisoner inside my own mind. Something otherworldly had taken hold of my magic, tantamount to something seizing control of my very spirit. I couldn’t even call for help as it pulled me into a deep well of what can only be described as pure loneliness.

I found myself in utter darkness, unable to move or scream or breathe. I couldn’t recognize my own senses, as if I was part of the Nothingness, a deep and yawning blackness full of spite and hate for the light that tried to fill it, and it sought to devour me too. It spoke to me in a wordless tongue, gibbering yet purposeful, afraid yet full of anger.

This was a darkness that did not stem from the creative impulses of ponies. It had come from a deep, old place, the primordial abyss that is the antithesis of creation itself. 

I had reached the very heart of nightmares, which were only a pale reflection of the true, overarching fear that haunted the very heart of the universe and wormed its way into all living beings: that of being utterly and completely alone.

Lacking form, voice, or senses beyond my mind’s eye, I could only imagine my ability to struggle, and could only watch as something indescribable came from the dark to swallow me whole, laughing at my pathetic attempts to resist.

I did not wake up. Daisy Dew cast me from the vision and looked at me very sadly for what felt like eternity before she simply left.

When I asked Solaris what had happened, he explained that the duties of those who watch the sky runs deeper than he had time to explain. I raged at him for his lack of trust and left without another word. The next morning, I received two old books from the secured section of the Royal Archives and was told I had permission to read them.

My hooves are still shaking and it has been a week since the incident. I feel as if I am only now coming out of a deep, dark cave, and my eyes are still adjusting to the light. Except the light is frightful now, because I know what lurks in the shadows of everypony who stands in it, carrying their own little bit of darkness with them.

June the Twenty-first

My hiatus is over. In spite of everything, I know I must continue, and Solaris himself appealed to me after I had calmed down enough to not blame him for what almost happened. Instead, I opened the books he gave me and began to read. 

At last I am beginning to understand what Solaris has entrusted me with, and I fear what the consequences of this knowledge might be.

Not so long ago, I would’ve laughed at myself for the melodramatic tripe I’m currently writing, but the sheer enormity of what I’m reading has disturbing implications. We all know the story of the Interregnum: the time when Prince Artemis became corrupted and the Elements of Harmony were used to defeat him. Many have begun to pass off this tale as a cautionary myth, but a few like myself understand that it is all too real.

The creature that Prince Artemis became was not called Nightterror for nothing. These books tell the truth of the lost Prince’s power: He could invade and affect the events of a dream from the inside! For all my practice even I have only ever been able to observe dreams from a distance.. I will never match the power of an alicorn in anything, let alone something as powerful as dreamwalking. What did Solaris hope that I would take away from this tale? Was it only to let me know that these abilities are possible? Am I connected in some way to the realm of dreams that a lost Prince once presided over?

And if the Prince became the Nightterror, then to what dark place is my research leading me? Why was Daisy Dew so afflicted by such horrible visions? Were there others like her? Solaris would not say, but explained to me that certain things must only be known by certain ponies, and that he was proud of the progress I had made and decided I was strong enough to be aware of some of those forbidden things.

I can only trust my instincts and those of the Prince. My cutie mark dream seems so far off now, but I still remember it clear as day: a colt’s face superimposed over my body, a strange forest and a house that was mine and yet was not. It was me in that dream, no doubt about it, telling me that dreams were my destiny.

What have I gotten myself into?

July the Third

Today I had a revelation. It began, of course, with a dream.

I stood in a dark place, a place of emptiness so cold and lonesome that it seemed this was a void beyond the reach of the stars themselves. A place of utter darkness surrounded me. Within that darkness, I heard a voice crying out to me, but I couldn’t understand the words. Much like my experience with interpreting the emotions and feelings of a dream rather than seeing it myself I felt more than heard the intent of the speaker, who seemed to be somepony in need of help. I felt a presence, reaching out from a very great distance towards me. I didn’t feel threatened, but I did feel exposed and unsafe.

I saw myself then, just like I did so many years ago. The other me, the one that gave me my cutie mark. I was going towards a castle on the peak of a great hill in the midst of a green and beautiful forest. Equestrian banners were caught in the breeze atop its ramparts and I could see what might have been the distant silhouette of Canterlot far in the distance. I tried to follow my other self inside the castle in the forest, but I could not.

Having had a full day to ponder these events and recall with startling clarity what I witnessed, I spoke to Solaris about what had happened.

He merely gave me a sad, distant look, and abruptly told me that I was to mention this to nopony else. He then walked away, leaving me with no answers. I immediately began poring over the royal archives, looking for any and all clues to the identity of this strange structure. I must admit, my magic is a little shaky even now; not only is this the second time I have seen my strange dream self since I was a little filly, but it was once again a dream with some clear meaning, which is a stark contrast to nearly every other I have observed. So many dreams are, for all their wonders, impulsive flights of fancy, acting out base desires or childish whims. But this dream was trying to tell me something, I know it.

After many hours of research, gauging the position of the Sun, the direction of Canterlot, and the description of the general area, I came to one conclusion. It is, in fact, the site of the Castle of Two Brothers, within the region now identified as the Everfree Forest. This place was once the very seat of Equestrian government when Artemis and Solaris ruled jointly, and is known as the site where the terrific battle that sundered the kingdom was fought, unleashing such wild magic that it rent the very landscape and forever barred ponies from being able to tame the forest again.

Is it there I will find the connection between my dream powers and that of the late Prince? Why else would I be pointed there, and why would Solaris not discourage me? I have gone too long without an answer. I will find him and announce my intentions on the morrow.

July the Eighteenth

I have just entered the edge of the Everfree Forest, with considerable armed escort. By Solaris’ explicit instructions they will follow me to the entrance of the old castle and no further, whatever they might hear or see. I asked why this was so, but he would not answer me. They will not disobey orders under any circumstances, which makes me believe that my safety my in fact be in peril once I go inside the gates of that ancient place. I wondered if it might be hard to locate after almost seven hundred years of isolation and overgrowth, but as expected, the Prince knew exactly where to look. He did use to live there, after all.

As we draw closer to the castle I feel a sense of quiet dread settling over me, and not just because of the wild magic present in this wood. I feel it clawing at me like the animals the guards defends me from, but something deeper than that demands my attention. I am afraid of what I might find, but Solaris gave no indication that it was dangerous there. I asked him myself if I was being led to my doom.

The ruler of the Sun stared me down and said that if I was not meant to survive what might come next, I would not be here.

This is where my cutie mark has led. Where my other self who resides deep within me, a personification of my destiny perhaps, has led me. Will I find nothing but the endless horror I saw in Daisy Dew’s vision? Or will I finally know why I was gifted with these powers of dreamsight when only Prince Artemis once wielded them for the good of ponykind?

I do not know what will happen, but it seems I have no other choice but to follow. 

Dusk stared dumbly at the next page as he turned to it. 

It was blank. He turned to the next, and it too showed him nothing but a great expanse of creamy yellow paper.

“No,” he whispered, “no, no, it can’t stop there! That can’t happen! What?!”

He flipped all the way to the end of the book. None of the remaining pages had anything in them whatsoever, not even errant ink blotches! He set to work thinking of every spell he could remember that would enchant a book and render its pages invisible. He hurried to the nearest lab table and threw together solutions that would reveal invisible ink, magical residues, anything at all. 

None of it worked. The pages remained infuriatingly blank. He cast the book aside in frustration, feeling another headache coming on.

“Dusk?” Spines said from the stairway door. “What’s all the noise? Are you all right?”

“No!” Dusk snapped. “I’m not! This book... it’s useless! It stopped right when it was going to tell me everything! Just like...” His eyes widened. “Just like when my memories were taken.”

He threw the book on his back and rushed up the stairs, nearly bowling Spines over and nearly crashed right into Rainbow Blitz.

“Gah!” Rainbow exclaimed, leaping back to hover a foot off the floor. “Where’s the fire, dude?”

“Rainbow Blitz! Again?” Dusk gaped. Rainbow shrugged.

“You gotta start locking your doors, buddy. Anyway, you were really spacing when we all met you at the train station. I figured I should drop by.”

Dusk huffed. “At—” he glanced at his clock on the wall, “—three o’clock in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay, I keep weird hours, we’ve established that. Anyway, what’s the matter?”

Dusk ignored him as his headache throbbed, trying to get his attention. He turned to Spines.

 “Get a letter to the Princes, now! Something’s interfering again, and it’s even worse this time!”

“What do you mean?” Spines asked, rubbing her claws together. “How can it get any worse than this?”

Dusk’s headache spiked. He put a hoof to his temple and thumped his hoof on the table in the main room to fight off the pain, making the sculpture on it wobble precariously. Eventide’s journal fell from his back to the floor, where Rainbow picked it up curiously and flipped through the pages as Dusk continued ranting. “I mean it’s affecting the real world! It took away whatever was in that book that would have told me what’s happening! The words that should be in that book are just... gone! It was getting right to where Morningtide was about to—”

“You mean Eventide,” Blitz murmured, flipping back to the cover, “right?”

Dusk blinked and sat up with a start. “I... yes. Yes, I meant Eventide. Who’s...?”

“Well, you’re not crazy Dusk,” Blitz said with a sigh. “I don’t see anything too. Hey, why’s it so damp?”

“I ran it under a few solutions—owww!” Dusk was cut off by another wall of pain smashing him to the floor. Spines ran to his side.

“Dusk! Are you okay?”

“No,” Dusk growled. “This is impossible. It’s too easy. It’s too cheap. It’s like...” Another bolt of pain slashed through his skull. He pressed his forehead to the floor and gritted his teeth.

“Like Derring Do and the Mystery of Haliflank Manor,” Rainbow muttered.

Dusk rolled onto his stomach and looked up. “What did you say?”

Rainbow shrugged. “Yeah, it wasn’t the best one of the series. Anyway, you know that part where Derring gets into the secret compartment behind the fireplace? And he finds that journal that tells him all about that conspiracy to steal the property and take the buried treasure in the pirate cove? But of course the last few pages are torn out ‘cause the bad guy got there first. Lame.”

Dusk’s eye twitched as an uncomfortable silence fell over them all. Gradually, Rainbow’s expression shifted from boredom to dawning realization.

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s not possible,” Dusk whispered. “It can’t be that easy.” He turned to Spines. “Letter to the Princes. Tell them we need to go to the Castle of the Two Brothers as soon as possible. Whatever’s going on is bleeding into our world and taking things away. Just like it took Eventide’s memory, her journal, her life. My memories! It’s trying to stop us!” He looked up at Rainbow. “Get everypony else together right now. We’re not wasting any more time.”

-----------

Twilight slammed the journal’s thin cover shut. She jogged back upstairs, stuffing the journal into a saddlebag she slung over her withers and looked out her window to the distant Everfree Forest.

“Neither am I,” she whispered.

> Here Be Monsters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, this is familiar.”

Applejack adjusted her hat as she stared down the forbidding foliage of the Everfree Forest. Twilight and the rest of their friends stood slightly behind her wearing expressions ranging from determination to outright terror. None of them looked prepared for what they were about to do, having been dragged out of bed by Fluttershy, but at least they had all shown up.

“Just like the good old days,” Rainbow Dash agreed, flapping her wings more forcefully than she needed to.

“Do we really have to go back there?” Fluttershy whimpered, hiding behind Rarity since she stood furthest from the forest. “I mean, I’m not scared of the castle or anything, but it was just really, really, really unpleasant last time, and I doubt anything’s changed.”

“Come on Fluttershy,” said Pinkie, hopping in place with nervous energy, “you’re the one who woke us all up! We need to get in there—Twilight said so! Otherwise we’re never going to figure out what’s going on with our doppelgangers and dingle-boppers and yuletide yappers and—”

“It’s true,” Twilight cut in, clutching her horn as she stared into the dark woods. “I saw what Dusk was going to do. He’s going to the Castle of the Two Sisters to find answers, and so are we.”

“And that little book told you everything?” Rarity asked, pointing at Morningtide’s journal poking out of one of Twilight’s saddlebags.

Twilight closed her eyes as another surge of pain clawed at her. A wave of iridescent purple light flowed out of her horn and washed over her, and with it came the assurance that she was finally doing something right. “Everything I need to know,” she whispered. “Something happened to Morningtide there, something so horrible Celestia herself took his memories and cloistered him away in obscurity for the rest of his life.”

“It don’t say?” asked Applejack.

“The journal details everything right up until he got inside,” said Twilight, “and then after that it’s just nothing. His whole life he wanted to know what happened to him, why he had the dreams he did, why he saw himself in another world... and Celestia just took it all away.”

“Yeah, you told us the story on the way here,” said Rainbow, flying impatient circles. “So let’s get in there and fix whatever’s going on!”

“That’s just it,” Twilight said, sighing, “I don’t know how to ‘fix it’ or even if what’s going on needs to be fixed at all. I can feel the Element of Magic in me, telling me that this is something I have to do. It wants me to find Dusk, and your Elements want to find their counterparts too! If we don’t find a way to connect with them, then we’ll just suffer whatever happened to Morningtide and his double.” She bowed her head, her nose almost touching the ground. “Celestia will make sure of that.”

Rarity put a hoof on her shoulder. “I want to believe that the Princesses know best, Twilight, and I know you want to as well. But darling... I remember everything now. All of us do. We each caught a glimpse of the other side, don’t you remember?”

All of them nodded in unison as Rarity went on. “And if that’s the case then we all know what’s at stake, and that Luna was directly responsible for how much we almost lost. This is happening for a reason. There’s no stopping it anymore. We are committed to this. All of us.”

Twilight pushed herself up. All of her friends shifted on their hooves—or wings—as they felt a palpable air of determination emanating from Twilight as she glared at the mass of foliage before her, staring down the familiar path they had taken once before. It seemed so long ago that the forest was forbidding, impenetrable, swathed in the darkness of nightmarish imagination and looming like a hungry maw, and then it was only a mildly frightening joy ride to walk through, more a mild annoyance than a threat.

Tonight the maw loomed greater than ever, promising a void that they would never return from. For better or worse, the knowledge that nothing would be the same if they went through with this laid heavily on them all. Twilight looked over her shoulder at the others.

“We’re in this together, right? No turning back?”

Not a single one of them disagreed, but the looks on their faces shocked her. Now that it was finally here and they stood on the precipice, every one of them didn’t quite meet her gaze. They were frightened.

Twilight took a deep breath and seized the first bit of ground into the Forest with a firm stomp of her hoof.

“Then let’s go.”

And so they walked. None of them rushed to be at the head of the group, but they all followed Twilight, who was the only one who seemed anywhere near as brave as they wanted to. All of them tried to keep pace with the pony next to them, collectively letting Twilight’s inexorable gait drag them along as they shuffled in the wake of her steady trot. To Twilight, it seemed they were all waiting for one pony to suggest that they turn back, to stop and turn around and give them all an excuse to falter and leave. They all wanted to go, but none of them wanted to be the first to turn tail and so they all forced each other along, seeing that nopony else gave them the chance. In a weird way, it gave them courage that none of them had the strength to turn back, more ashamed of abandoning their friends than giving in to the fear of the unknown.

But the unknown was all they had to be afraid of, right? Luna and Celestia had their reasons for what they did, insane though they might be, but in the end this trip would bring them to a new understanding of Harmony if they succeeded. No, through this dark tunnel of wood and creaking boughs, a brighter day waited for them.

Twilight told herself that over and over, repeating the mantra with every step as her hooves turned to lead and the lights of Ponyville faded, then seemed to try to root themselves into the ground as they turned a corner and the portal back to civilization was lost. The unknown was a powerful force in the minds of every pony. It was one of the reasons they clung so tightly to Celestia and Luna, the great unknowns who were at least consistent, the only ponies who could stare into the face of the great darkness and shield the meek behind them. Her friends looked awfully meek tonight. Twilight knew that for all her own misgivings, for all her terror in the face of that single, gaping blank page in Morningtide’s journal where Celestia had ripped out his memories, that she had to be their Princess: the great unknown who still promised to be their one source of certainty. Perhaps if she talked it over with them they might see it the way she did.

“So, tell me,” she said to Rainbow Dash, since she was the closest, “what was it like?”

“Uh, what?” Rainbow exclaimed in a hushed voice, immediately trying to hide her jitters behind a nonchalant toss of her mane. It had been almost two hours since any of them said a word; Twilight figured her easily distracted friend had been lost in her own thoughts.“I mean, uh, whatcha mean?”

“Seeing him,” said Twilight, “or, well, you.”

Rainbow hissed and shrugged, going for a short spin as she fluttered alongside Twilight. “Eh, I dunno...”

“You don’t know?”

“It was weird,” Rainbow said. “Just weird.”

Twilight stared at her, watching as Rainbow began to fidget in midair, rubbing her hooves together and scratching her mane until she finally cracked.

“Okay, look, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that, okay? It was weird! What more can I say? What more can any of us say?”

“That it was nice?” Fluttershy interjected, quickly shriveling under Rainbow’s surprised stare. “I-I’m sorry. It’s just that maybe we shouldn’t be quite so scared. Why would the Elements react the way they did if it was a bad thing? Rainbow, did Loyalty say anything about what you saw? Didn’t it feel like it wanted you to go closer?”

Rainbow spun another circle, batting a tree branch at the top of her arc. “Ahh... whenever we used the Elements, Loyalty never really ‘says’ anything to me. It just sorta feels the way I do when something happens. Maybe that’s because it is me? Either way, it’s all action and no talk. And...” She let her hooves dangle as she floated along. “It did want me to get closer.” She perked up with a daring smile, flipping over to lounge on her back while still propelling forward. “And hey, from what I saw, I still got a kickin’ rainbow mane like I do here! As long as he doesn’t start thinking that makes him more awesomer than me I figure we can get along.”

“Oh yeah? What if the other you just uses mane coloring?” Applejack said, squinting.

“No way! I’m not lame like that, and I’d expect anypony who thinks they can be me to be just as not-lame. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, and I’m not letting it be ruined by anypony, especially not me!”

Twilight watched her friend’s bravado spread to the others, all of them giving meek smiles that eventually blossomed into full on laughter. She watched as inspiration tied its cords around their hearts, and then realized with a start that she was actually seeing cords of light unravel from a space just above her heart and tie themselves to the other ponies, glowing a deep purple. As they looped back around to her, she felt her leaden hooves get just a little bit lighter. None of her friends seemed to notice.

“Does anypony—” she started, and then her ear twitched. Off in the distance a low, churning rumble echoed through the tightly packed trees. “—hear that?”

Rainbow flew up a little higher, her ears twisting left and right until they pinpointed the noise. “Sounds like water. Must be that river we had to cross last time!”

They hurried through the thickets, breaking out onto the riverbank. The river ran fast tonight, the waters swirling around the boulders littering the shallow riverbed. Something about the eddies and whirlpools the water made were hypnotizing to Twilight. She took a step closer, and her horn flashed. Her magic remembered this river.

“Spring run-off, I’d bet,” Rainbow sniffed, gesturing at the fast-flowing current. “Still, it’s pretty shallow.”

“I wonder where that wonderful old water serpent went to,” Rarity sighed sadly. “We could certainly use his help again.”

“Could probably hop over them rocks yonder,” Applejack said.

Their voices came from far away as Twilight leaned closer to the water, listening to a sound that chimed beneath the surface. She stood up again and looked back at the others, watching them argue with Rainbow Dash about the feasibility of her shuttling them across one by one. She remembered the trial they had to pass here, where Rarity proved her generosity. The threads that bound them all, still unseen by her friends, became clearer and lit up as the memory came back to her.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, seeing five strapping colts standing next to the river’s edge, poking at the water.

“Any ideas, Dusk?”  Applejack asked her.

“For the last time, I’ll just fly you guys across!” Rainbow Blitz groused. “Geez, I already passed Wonderbolt training, not even all those apple pies you scarf down can stop me.”

“I’ll have you know it all turns to muscle when you apple buck as much as meeEEE!”

The others had a good chuckle from Applejack’s squeal as Rainbow lifted him up without warning and hurtled across the river, landing him neatly on a patch of dirt before swinging back around to pick up Bubble Berry. Next went Elusive, and Butterscotch flew himself.

Rainbow came back for Twilight, grabbing her around the waist.

“Hey, Dusk,” he whispered in her ear just before take-off. “About what I said before? About my double, and how I wanna meet her cause she might be awesome?”

“Yes?” asked Twilight.

“I kinda lied,” Rainbow muttered, lifting into the air. “I know the me in that other place, wherever it is,  is probably just like me, but I’m doing this because you are, Dusk. You’ve never let us down before, and I figure if this mare you saw is anything like you, then she’s gotta be worth the effort. I follow you on this trip, buddy.”

“Thanks, Rainbow,” said Twilight.

“Any time,” Rainbow Dash said with a grin as she angled for the far bank. One flap later and they were moving. But something caught Twilight’s eye just as Rainbow started forward. 

A dark shadow swooping down low over the treetops, streaking towards them, too fast to think, too fast to act—

“Wait, Rainbow!”

A terrible jarring impact as something big and heavy smashed into Rainbow’s side, knocking her clean out of the sky.

The icy, numbing terror of coming loose from her friend’s grip, the gut-wrenching nausea of a sudden drop.

The concrete smack as she hit moving water.

The strange tingling helplessness as a mighty hand enclosed around her and dragged her under.

The horrified shrieks of her friends just before the water closed around her ears and whisked her away.

---------------

Dusk Shine had never been more terrified in his life. Nothing made sense as the world collapsed into darkness and he was spun end over end. His flailing hooves scraped over rocks that loomed through the muck one moment and were swept away in the next. He couldn’t think, and more importantly, couldn’t breathe.

He had to get out.

He reached up for what he thought was the surface, but his hooves only scraped painfully over silt. He reached out for the rocks that flew by him, but none of them afforded purchase.

Am I going to die?

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Freezing cold water plunged into his nostrils when his lungs tried to take a spasming breath, too panicked to realize the futility of breathing. The icy water stabbed him, covering every inch of his hide in a million pins and needles that slid further  into his flesh with every passing second. He pushed his hooves up again and kicked out, fighting against the raging current. But he was no Applejack, no Rainbow Blitz. Nothing worked.

His horn surged with energy as it went into an hysterical overtime, making his head split as spells came out unbidden, dispersed by the leystone. He found it strangely funny that he noticed a migraine in the middle of dying in a rushing river.

The ring, Dusk!

He gasped at the intrusive new voice in his head, and gagged on a new rush of water that buried him further beneath the surface. He bounced painfully off the bottom and his horn cracked against the packed stones at the river’s bottom. Blinding pain erupted through his skull as he yanked his hooves up to protect his head, feeling the smooth contour of—

The ring! Take it off! I can’t get us out if you don’t get rid of it!

Dusk felt his body crumple from another devastating impact on his shoulder. The air was knocked out of him as he bounced and spun into the current again. He flailed helplessly as his limbs were torn every which way by the iron grip of the water, his vision starting to go black as his lungs clenched and burned.

Now!

With what little strength was left in him Dusk threw his hooves up, ignoring the shattering pain in his shoulder. He caught the ring with just enough friction on the edge of his hooves and hurled it away, watching it vanish in the dark water.

There was a moment of dawning realization as the whole earth seemed to pause for breath.

And then came power.

The darkness was chased away by a blindingly bright light as Dusk’s horn flared to life.
He couldn’t tell if the water stopped around him or he stopped in the water. He did know the tell-tale signs of teleportation as the world burned away in a flash of light and reformed around him a moment later. He felt grass under his back, saw the starry sky through breaks in the canopy. And then he opened his mouth and vomited.

Grimy river water gushed out in a disgusting frenzy of coughing and hacking, his lungs wracked with pain as they tried to suck in air even as they expelled what the river has pushed inside.

That was too close, he thought.

I agree, said another voice.

Dusk froze.

Who said that?

Me. You. Is there a distinction anymore?

Dusk whirled around, scanning the treeline though he knew there was nopony there. His horn seethed with unused energy, bleeding it off in sparks and waves of light. In the middle of the hurricane of power that surged through him he felt something else: the same deep-seated, gnawing need that plagued him ever since the strange dreams began.

It’s you, isn’t it? he thought, though he heard his own voice as clear as day.

It’s us, she said in reply. I figured it out while I was in the river. The ring was the final barrier between us. Our shared danger was the last bridge. It’s all happening so fast, isn’t it Dusk?

Dusk shuddered, almost convulsed as he heard his name whispered by her beautiful, beautiful voice. It was a sweet, warm caress that cut through the icy cold wrapped around him, calming his violent shivers. He closed his eyes and sank to his knees. His eyes welled up with tears of desperation as he sprawled out on the grass, reaching out with his hooves as if he could take hold of her right now.

I’ve been looking for you, he mentally cried out, casting his thoughts all around as his horn exploded with another burst of power. I can feel you.

And I you. My name is—

-------------

“NO!”

Twilight gasped and scrambled to her hooves as the Royal Canterlot Voice thundered into the clearing she had landed in. A mighty force tore apart the trees to her right as a great black shadow burst into view, two eyes alight with fury and fire glowing from deep within.

“YOU WILL NOT DESECRATE THIS WORLD ANY FURTHER!” the shadow screamed with enough force to rip the very grass up from under Twilight’s hooves. Her knees buckled as her exhaustion from the deadly river course caught up with her.

No, no, no! I was so close!

Twilight might once have run from the terrible sight of a princess consumed by wrath. But this time she planted her hooves in the ground and lowered her broken horn, menacing the living tornado in front of her.

“Luna,” she growled. “How did you find me?”

The shadow that used to be Luna narrowed its eyes. Her ethereal mane swirled and billowed behind its head, circling above. Within it turned the very depths of the universe: galaxies, stars, black holes, all spinning around each other in an angry dance with its tempo set by the fury of the alicorn who controlled them. “YOU LED ME HERE WHEN YOU BUILT A BRIDGE TO THE INFINITE DARKNESS, AND YOUR MAGICAL OUTBURST WAS AS A BEACON. YOUR INSOLENCE ENDS NOW! THIS IS YOUR FINAL CHANCE TO UNDO YOUR MISTAKES AND COME HOME!”

Twilight’s horn basked in the dark magics unleashed by the Princess. Her magic felt the power of another trying to contain it, to control it and bend it to its will. But Harmony couldn’t be diverted or hidden away. It simply was. Twilight’s magic answered Luna’s challenge by burning ever brighter, challenging the darkness of space that swirled in Luna’s mane until it lit up the forest clearing as the Sun lit the sky.

Luna lowered her horn and took a step back, already overwhelmed by Twilight’s display of sheer might. Twilight grimaced as she saw Luna’s magic billowing up from deep within her, a blindingly bright, silvery light of the Moon.

“FOAL! IF YOU WILL NOT LISTEN TO YOUR BETTERS, THEN I WILL MAKE YOU OBEY THEM!”

Tendrils of silvery light shot out from Luna’s torso, crashing into a lavender forcefield that sprang up in front of Twilight. Their cosmic powers screeched with feedback as they tore against one another. The clash was so violent that it seemed to tear away the very fabric of the world around them, and Twilight caught a glimpse of an infinity of crisscrossing lines of dazzling color, some tearing and fraying from the violent magical duel, others seemingly invigorated by it. The same threads she had seen before lunged out of her own body and crashed into deep blue and purple strings flung out by Luna, accompanied by waves of bright white and silver that were almost symphonic in their regularity. Twilight wasn’t just seeing a magical duel, she was seeing the magic behind the duel.

She grinned ferociously and pushed out still more power, allowing Magic to take the brunt of the spellcasting. Pulsating rings burst out and shoved aside Luna’s threads as her own strings outmaneuvered Luna’s defense and smashed into her horn. The shadowy alicorn shuddered and was forced a step back.

“DO NOT FIGHT ME, TWILIGHT. I AM HERE TO HELP YOU!” she cried, even though she was obviously losing.

Twilight stomped her hoof. It caused a resounding bang and cracks tore out from the ground beneath it. “You threw me in a river!”

Luna’s shadowy, entropic visage wavered just slightly, a shiver that ran through the abyss enveloping her. “MY GUARDS HAVE PATROLLED THIS FOREST NIGHT AND DAY TO ENSURE YOU DID NOT PASS. YOUR ATTEMPT TO GO FURTHER PROVOKED THEIR ATTACK.”

“And they were told to kill me if I didn’t stop?!”

The storm of magical energy rebounded against Twilight as Luna reared up once again, her silhouette expanding to twice its original size. Far from being intimidated, Twilight just reached even further into her nearly infinite well of power, seizing Magic’s energy. She felt something begin to build behind her horn: an outburst of energy that not even Luna would be able to stop.

“THINE OWN FOOLISHNESS IS WHAT PUT THEE IN DANGER, TWILIGHT! THOU CANNOT COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF THINE ACTIONS!”

“Then just explain it to me!” Twilight shouted, her words tearing at her throat. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and boiled away from the incredible heat. The pressure behind her head grew even worse. The more Luna pressed, the harder Magic pushed back. She felt herself slipping just like when her memories were returned. Something threatened to tear deep inside her, and Twilight realized it was her heart. “Why can’t you just let me go?! Why did you break my horn?! Why can’t you just let me see him?!”

Luna’s great shadow stared at the unicorn, so much smaller in size but so terribly greater in power. Gradually, the storm above her head came to a stop. The melee of twisting strings and impossible colors faded into oblivion once again as Twilight’s magic grew somewhat calmer. The all-consuming darkness around Luna’s body receded until her normal size and shape returned. Her eyes seemed to sprout from the inky blackness as it melted away from her body like oil, and she was fully illuminated by the terrible light emanating from Twilight. Her voice was not angry or commanding this time. It held a careful, guarded kind of neutrality.

“KNOWLEDGE IS A HEavy burden, Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “You are young, so young, and yet you command powers that rose at the dawn of the world and grappled with monsters from the refuse piles of creation. Your thirst for knowledge is what will destroy you.”

“I don’t understand!” Twilight wailed into the tempest around her. “Please, that’s all I want! Just help me understand!”

Luna stared. For an eternity, the two stood at opposite ends of a great gulf, one composed and almost serene, the other slowly being consumed by her own power. Twilight’s chest heaved with gasping breaths. The pressure behind her horn stopped growing, but it remained constant, an unspoken threat that Luna clearly noticed.

“Poor child,” Luna whispered, “I told Celestia you were not ready. She pushed you just as she pushed him and you will be devoured just as he nearly was.”

“Morningtide,” Twilight groaned, feeling the tear on her heart grow a little wider. The magical storm around her consumed the grass and started burning away the trees, growing even wider.

“Twilight, listen well, for this is your one chance at salvation,” said Luna, stepping back into the trees. “There is no ‘understanding’ of why this is happening. There is no ‘why,’ and there is no ‘how.’ Some things in this universe—and all others besides ours—simply are. You think that knowing is what will save you. But not knowing is the only thing we can do to protect you.”

“I don’t understand!” Twilight snarled. “Why can’t you just get that?”

Luna shook her head, continuing to recede until she blended with the shadows of the forest. “I ‘get’ it all too well, Twilight. You have accepted the word of Celestia for so long. You are her faithful student, and though your knowledge is vast, she has always controlled what you learned. The bindings of every book she ever gave you were the blinders that showed you only what she wanted you to know. All your life you have been happy with this arrangement. Accept it now. She knows you do not understand, Twilight, and that is exactly how it must be.”

Twilight shook her head, and the pressure began to grow again.

“I’m not stopping,” she growled with a voice that wasn’t quite her own. “I’m too close to stop now.”

“And I cannot stop you. You are and always have been beyond my power. I pray that Celestia can do what I cannot. She waits for you, Twilight. For your sake, do not go to to her. Do not force her hoof.”

Luna looked up at the sky, staring at the Moon through the trees.

“This night is rife with the meddling of fate,” she murmured, “but I will do what I must if the time comes. Just as we did before.”

Twilight felt Magic roil inside her chest. Before she could stop it, a bolt of lightning arced from her horn and struck the ground directly at Luna’s hooves. She raised a hoof in surprise and glared back at Twilight, and Twilight knew it wasn’t her Luna was looking at.

“You lead her to her doom,” Luna whispered.

“BE GONE! YOU NO LONGER HAVE POWER OVER ME!” Twilight shouted without meaning to, but she realized it was exactly what she had wanted to say. The words came from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere that hurt badly.

Luna vanished.

Twilight’s magic abruptly and violently . Her body convulsed mightily, and she dropped to the ground like a rock.

--------------

Dusk’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up with a start and saw all his friends gathered at the edge of the clearing, reeling between concern and panic.

“Dusk!” they cried out as one, rushing into the clearing. They stampeded over the ash that Dusk’s magic had left in its wake and tackled him, trying to hold him and talk to him all at once.

“You were going crazy!” Blitz exclaimed. “The light led us right to you!

“Your magic! It was incredible, like nothing I’ve ever seen!” said Elusive.

“And you were shouting at somepony! You sounded pretty mad,” added Bubble Berry.

Dusk met Applejack’s eyes next. “What’s goin’ on, Dusk?”

Dusk sat in Bubble Berry’s embrace, trying to keep the world from spinning. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I was in the river, and then I heard a voice in my head. It spoke to me. I think... no, I know it was her. It was me, just like Eventide said. We touched each other’s magic, and she...”

He looked down at his still shaking hooves. “She pulled me out.”

“Well! What a gentlepony,” said Elusive, patting him on the shoulder. “But if magic is starting to cross over, then what could happen next?”

“I don’t know,” Dusk whispered, standing up on shaky hooves. “I saw glimpses of something. Something dark. I... she was yelling at it, and it was telling her something about not understanding. It stopped her before she could tell me her name. She’s on the same quest as us, guys. Going to the same place, looking for us just like we’re looking for them. I can feel it.” He looked up at Rainbow Blitz. “What the heck attacked us over the river?”

“I dunno,” Rainbow replied, “but it sure wasn’t friendly.” He turned and lifted his wing, showing a large bruise on his side. “Stings like a manticore, but I’ll live. It flew off before I could get a good look at it.”

“Had wings, that’s for sure,” said Applejack. “I got an eye for this kinda thing—have to give the farm advance warning when Rainbow’s blowin’ through town, no offense—an’ it was definitely a pegasus of some sort. It stopped for just a moment, I guess to see if Dusk fell. I couldn’t see its eyes and the color was all wrong, like they were wearin’ some kinda costume.”

Rainbow pursed his lips, but said nothing more.

“Well, the important thing is everypony’s alive, right?” said Butterscotch. “I really, really think we should get going before whatever it was comes back.”

“Good thinking,” said Dusk, standing up on shaky hooves. “I can walk. Just... keep a safe distance if my horn starts to glow. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

With no other choice, they trudged on. Dusk attempted to reestablish the connection he’d had with her not long ago, casting out his mental net over and over. But he was just thinking to himself and had no idea how to find her again. Perhaps it would all come when they got to the castle. 

“So, uh,” Applejack muttered as the silence closed in again while they stumbled through the woods back to the trail, “you guys all saw ‘em, right? The ones in the other place? We never really talked about that.”

Everypony answered yes. Applejack nodded. “Right. I saw me too.” He tossed his mane. “Gosh, it just felt plum unnatural, didn’t it?”

“Unnatural?” Butterscotch gulped. “How so?”

“It just... it was like suddenly realizing how unimportant I was, like I was a shadow lookin’ up at the pony castin’ me an’ I didn’t know I was a shadow until right then.” He shook his head vigorously. “It was almost like finally figurin’ out a lie that’s been told to ya after a long time hidin’ it. I didn’t like it. I don’t like any of this.”

An uncomfortable silence fell, and Applejack’s gaze slowly dropped to the ground in front of him. “But I did like her,” he whispered. “She was glowing, in the middle of all that darkness an’ madness. Glowing real bright, an’ I mean that literally. Like a... like the only big, red, shiny apple sproutin’ off an old, diseased tree. The one honest thing about the whole mess.”

They walked in silence for some time. until Elusive spoke up next. “When I saw me, or her, or whoever we’re supposed to refer to, I felt something similar. But it was rather different for me. We stood in that awful dark place and I remember the pain that came just before Dusk’s horn was broken by whatever was on the other side. But I saw her so clearly, and she glowed just like Applejack said!” He sighed, eyelids all aflutter as he steered himself onto Bubble Berry and leaned on him as he walked. “She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. Oh, when this adventure is over, even if I am doomed to behold no more than a single glimpse of absolute perfection, then my business will be inspired beyond belief! Her luscious purple mane, the perfect curls in her tail! And those eyes! I could have stared forever into them as we locked gazes across time and space—”

“Not to be a killjoy Elusive, but you’re sounding kinda creepy,” Rainbow cut in. “I mean, from what Dusk has said, you’re basically talking about yourself.”

“Oh, but that’s just it! It’s not just myself, is it?” Elusive asked, trotting up to Dusk and peering at him. “Is it?” he whispered, squinting.

Dusk took a deep breath. “... No. No, it’s not. If it was just me wearing a different body, then I might not feel the way I do now. Those mares... that world... it’s something much more than just a bunch of yous and mes. When I touched her mind, her magic, I felt like I was seizing something that I should have known all along, something hiding deep inside me. Something about her tells me that they’re more than us. They’re... more real. Closer to... something. I don’t know what, but I do know they’re not just clones or doubles. They’re more than that. They’re their own ponies.”

The ponies I always wanted to be, he said to himself, but I didn’t know it until now.

Butterscotch cleared his throat. “Um, when I looked at her, the other me that is, I felt kind of the same way. Like no matter what I did there was no way I could really be me unless I was with her. I somehow just knew I’d never be kinder or better or more me than her.”

He blushed and ducked his head. “She was really pretty.”

“What about you, Blitz?” Elusive asked. “You said your you has a rainbow mane. Is it as, quote, ‘awesome’ as yours?”

They broke out of the forest and came out to a great cliff. Before them stood a very familiar looking rope bridge, creaking and swaying in a light breeze. Beyond stood the broken spires of the Castle of Two Brothers, still wreathed in the fog it had been last time. Apparently, Dusk surmised, both of the Princes had decided against rebuilding it even after its rediscovery.

“Nopony’s as awesome as me,” Rainbow muttered as he stared over the chasm, subdued by the still eerie sight of the old castle. “And if this other me isn’t really me, just some other pony, they definitely aren’t as awesome as me.”

“Maybe you can put your bits where your bridle is once we find ‘em,” Applejack said with a wry smile.

Rainbow scoffed and lifted into the air, zooming over the gap. “I’m gonna make sure nothing’s waiting for us!”

Bubble Berry spoke next. “Well, you know what I hope is still true about the other me?”

----------------

 “I hope I still like to party!” Pinkie said, standing boldly next to Fluttershy and throwing a hoof across her withers. “I mean, how cool would that be? It’d be the first trans-dimensional party ever! And if it all goes sour we can have a ‘Sorry For Accidentally Destroying The Multiverse’ party right afterwards!”

“Hey guys! Looks clear!” Rainbow called. “No Shadowbolts this time. And the bridge looks sturdy enough!”

“Only you, Pinkie, could make light of something that might destroy all of reality,” Rarity said with a laugh as she stepped onto the bridge. Pinkie stopped in place and her ears twitched erratically, blinking faster than Twilight thought it possible for a pony to blink.

“Pinkie?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

Pinkie went still. Her nose wiggled, and Twilight thought she heard the barest bit of a sniffle from her. But the moment passed, and a smile was back on her face. “I thought I got a weird kinda Pinkie Sense there. Like déjà vu, but all twisty and weird like it’s happening right now instead of before! But I guess it was nothing!” she said, then wiggled her rump and leaped to follow Rarity, following quickly by Fluttershy.

“Hey,” she called after the unicorn, “of course I’m gonna make light of it! I can’t make something dark! Isn’t everything already dark? I mean think about it! If it weren’t for the sun everything would be dark so you can’t really make it dark if it already is...”

Twilight chuckled as her friend’s gabbing was soon lost.

Applejack chewed on her lip, staring at the ground ahead of her before she stepped onto the bridge.

“Sugarcube, I know I’m Honesty an’ all that. Can I be straight up with ya?”

Twilight nodded. “Of course.”

Applejack took a long breath, swishing her tail behind her. “We all saw what we saw back in that dream realm of yours, Twilight. An’ I know what I saw, an’ I can’t deny it, neither. But that don’t mean I gotta be comfortable with it, or even agree with what’s goin’ on. Now even the Princesses are outright attackin’ us?”

“What do you mean?” asked Twilight.

Applejack refused to look her in the eye, gritting her teeth as though the words were painful to speak. “I mean I don’t know what I mean, Twilight! All this stuff about alternate worlds and alternate yous an’ mes hidden from us for so long by the Princesses! We’ve only know about this all for a couple a’ weeks an’ we’re charging off into the unknown without even a lick of information to go on. It ain’t right at all what Luna did to you, an’ if what you say is true poor Morningtide got the short shrift too, but I dunno about going an’ opening the gates of Tartarus about it neither.”

Twilight’s horn flashed, and she came to a stop. “What aren’t you telling me, Applejack?”

Applejack pulled the brim of her hat down over her eyes, dropping her flanks onto the soft soil. “I’m scared, Twilight. I really am. More than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Applejack, we’re all scared. This is a big change from what we normally do and—”

“It’s not just that!” 

Applejack stomped her hoof. “I mean all this talk about shrouds an’ veils an’ other mes an’ yous! 
Why didn’t we see all this before? Why now? Why are the Princesses so dead set on stoppin’ us? Are we only alive cause of what we did for Equestria before? Is Celestia waitin’ in there to do to us what she did to poor Morningtide?”

She sighed. “This all is just dishonest, Twilight. Every last lick of it. I saw the other me in that dream world, Twi, an’ it was like he was the only honest thing there. Everythin’ else was just darkness and questions an’ general creepiness. Not somethin’ I could trust.”

Twilight’s heart twisted. “But you trust me, don’t you?”

Applejack stared at her a long, long time. Twilight sighed and began to turn away, but Applejack stopped her by lunging forward and throwing her hooves around Twilight’s shoulders, burying her face into Twilight’s mane.

“Of course I do, sugarcube,” she whispered. “I’ll always trust you, with anythin’. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. Believe it.”

Twilight felt tears on her neck as Applejack pulled away and rushed across the bridge.

Her horn hurt when she followed.

The entrance to the castle was just as it had been in the past: old, rotting, and powerfully ancient. Twilight felt something change when she crossed the threshold. It wasn’t just a respect for the unbelievably old doorway and what it used to represent, it was a shift in the Magic inside her.

“You’re here,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”

She stepped into the great hall where she’d once thought the Elements were stored, watching Rainbow Blitz fly circles around the room as the others gathered in front of the empty pedestals. Absolutely everything was just as they’d left it: old, broken down, and covered in moss.

“Gosh,” said Berry, “it’s just like that one time where we also did something all over again!”

“The Elements used to sit right there,” Elusive murmured quietly, though his voice echoed through the whole hall. “And then came that light, and we chased Dusk all the way up to that tower over there...” He looked out a window to the old tower where the final confrontation with Nightterror Nebula took place. They shivered at the memory of the dark alicorn.

“This is where it all started. Our friendship, the Elements, everything!” Butterscotch said breathlessly.

“And where it’ll start again,” said Twilight as she approached the pedestals that held the original Elements. “Where we’re going to find a way to contact the other world. No matter what the Princesses have to say about it.”

“Why didn’t Luna follow us here?” Rainbow asked. “She had the chance to catch us all in the woods, we all saw her.”

“She knows she can’t stop me now,” Twilight whispered, but her voice had an uncomfortable edge to it she hadn’t meant to give. The others stared at her until she shook herself and waved off their concern. “I mean, we’re the Elements of Harmony. We embody the most powerful magic known to ponydom. If anything I’d say they’re just waiting for us to let down our guard.

“So, what, this is s’posed ta’ be some kinda trap?” Applejack asked.

Twilight shrugged. “Whatever it is, they obviously can’t think of anything right now. We need to get to work.”

“Doin’ what, exactly?”

“I’m... not sure,” Twilight said, hanging her head. “I think we’re more closely connected here than we ever have been before. Maybe if I just try reaching out with my magic like I did in the river, I’ll find them and we can, I don’t know, figure something out.”

“So, what, just send a friendly telegram between universes?” Rainbow said, putting her hooves on her hips. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like the most complicated thing anypony has ever done.”

“I don’t claim to understand everything,” Twilight said patiently, “but I do know that for some reason, our magic seems to be connected. If I can just try to cast a spell, maybe Dusk will do the same and the reflections will give us some kind of bridge. The last time I was able to talk to him directly, it was when I was in danger of drowning. I don’t really want to repeat that.” She knelt down in front of the pedestal, closing her eyes. “I just have to try something, anything. Stand back, girls. I don’t know what will happen.”

She reached down deep inside for the Element of Magic.

“Oooh, no. We’re not going anywhere this time!” Rainbow insisted. “We’re staying right here until this is done. The last thing we need is some other crazy magical explosion to whisk you off again and—”

The world slipped away.

Twilight opened her eyes and was blinded by light. She jumped back and shielded herself with her hoof, realizing that she was looking at the sun through a window. A whole row of windows stood before her, set into beautiful white stone walls free of cracks or moss. Twilight looked up and saw an arched ceiling high overhead, decorated with banners that displayed coats of arms she remembered from her history books. Some were only used by the very oldest of unicorn families anymore.

She turned and felt her hooves drag over a soft red velvet carpet that stretched the length of the hall, ending at the foot of a renewed and restored pedestal, on which rested all the Elements in their original glory: simple gemstones all the colors of the rainbow, watching the hall, the windows, and Equestria beyond. Her friends were nowhere to be seen.

“The castle,” she said to herself, astonished, “as it used to be? How did I get here?”

A loud bang drew her attention back to the great doorway at the end of the main hall. The huge wooden doors with their iron braces were torn clean off their hinges.

Princess Celestia charged through them, nearly blinding Twilight with the light of her blazing horn. She wore golden armor in place of her torc and crown that was dented and battered, and her mane fluttered weakly like a flag in a failing wind. The alicorn’s hooves thundered over the carpet, her royal face twisted into an expression of horror, sorrow, and determination. She was heading straight for Twilight. 

Panic seized the younger unicorn as she turned and ran.

“No!” she cried out. “You’re not getting me now! You’re not! Stay back!”

She summoned her magic and found it unresponsive. The Element of Magic felt different now, pleased and calm instead of violent and anxious, like it knew what she was doing and was happy to see her doing it.

The question is, will you help me? she asked herself. The answer shocked her, not for what it was, but that it came at all.

Yes.

Twilight froze in place next to the pedestal, turning back to Celestia. 

“Not now,” Celestia whispered. “Not today. Equestria will not fall today! I won’t let it!”

She stopped in front of the Elements and lifted them from their perches with her magic. Though Twilight stood right next to her, she went completely unnoticed.

“Help me,” Celestia whispered breathlessly, levitating the Elements and placing them into empty slots on her armor. Magic came last, fitted into her shining breastplate. “Please, I don’t want to do this. There must be another way!”

Twilight’s attention was drawn back to the door by a loud explosion and the chilling sound of distant screams. In place of the Everfree Forest a whole city stood beyond the doorway.

It was burning.

Buildings had been razed and battlements torn down. Fires raged, choking the air with thick, angry black smoke. Before Twilight could react, a great shadow billowed up in front of the doorway, bleeding inky tendrils of darkness that seeped into the floor and cracked the perfect marble finish. 

Out of the darkness stepped Nightmare Moon, her eyes bright with rage and magical power. Bolts of dark, entropic energy arced from her horn, which was bathed in writhing shadows. Her mere passing tore at the walls of the hall, bursting every window open as she passed them.

“Sister!” she crowed in that imperial, condescending tone Twilight remembered so well. “Thou flee to the safety of our old home, but it will not save thee from Our wrath!”

“Thou art not my sister!” Celestia shrieked as she turned to face Nightmare Moon, the Elements in her armor coming to life with a great and terrible light in the face of the dark creature before them. “She would not sully her royal dignity with this brutish violence! This is nothing more than petty revenge!”

“Petty!” Nightmare spat. “Sister, thine arrows and slings strike Us to the quick! Even now thou cling to thy lies! But We have found a greater power than thee, sister. Thou would cast Us off like so much chaff on the wind. But We will show thee a power that cares not for sunrises and sunsets! A power that inhabited the darkness before the dawn of the world! Dost thou truly believe the Elements of Harmony have power against that which is older than Harmony or Chaos itself?”

“Luna, this madness is thine and thine alone!” Celestia cried out, lifting into the air. Her wings spread out to their full span, and she shone like the Sun. “Thou must listen to reason!”

“Address Us by Our proper title, knave!” Nightmare shrieked. “The True Night, the Everlasting Night, is coming! We are its herald and its queen! And when thou have been brought to thy knees before Us, thou shalt see its fell glory!”

Nightmare hurtled forward with a primal scream of rage. Twilight, overcome by the awesome sight of clashing rulers, cowered behind the pedestal, certain she was about to be overwhelmed by their clash.

But it never came. All noise ceased.

Twilight looked up and saw Nightmare Moon frozen in mid-air, her fangs bared just before she clashed with Celestia, who floated with her hooves held protectively in front of her, wings spread in glorious defiance, her expression set in stony resolution.

“Mistakes piled upon mistakes,” said Celestia. Twilight whirled around to see another Celestia walking towards her from the other end of the hall. As she walked, the banners wilted and fell into ash, the stone became cracked and grey with age. Time marched alongside the alicorn, dissolving the world around her. “All made with so much certainty. I was so sure I was right, even when I was in the middle of doing something terrible. And do you know what the worst part is?”

She looked directly at Twilight. “The worst part is that I feel the same way now.”

“You brought me here,” Twilight whispered. “You showed me this! Are we asleep?”

Celestia reached the pedestal, which fell apart before Twilight’s eyes. The visions of Celestia and Nightmare Moon faded from sight. The castle returned to its decrepit state. Celestia sighed, trembling.

“He stood right where you are now, Twilight. Determined to make things right. But there are things that neither you nor I can fight against. Some things simply must be.”

Twilight shuddered as pain erupted from her horn.

“You stole Morningtide’s memories!” she hissed. 

“Stole?” Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow. “I destroyed them, Twilight. Wiped them from his  mind and all existence. Back then, the Elements were still at my beck and call, and it was they who gave me the power to do what only Luna could before she became Nightmare Moon. It would be another five years, four months, eighteen days, six hours, and forty two minutes before the Elements passed into dormancy. Before they abandoned me and ponydom and left me to seek their successors.”

Twilight felt another shudder run through her that forced her to her knees. A great, unbearable pressure closed in all around her, and she realized the strange force was tinged with gold. Celestia’s magic was closing in for the kill.
Twilight looked up at Celestia with a child’s pleading gaze, her lip trembling. Was this what Morningtide felt just before his answers were stolen from him? 

“Why?”

“He too asked me why just before I did it,” Celestia whispered, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I will give you the same answer I did back then, Twilight. The answer that saved him, and the answer that will save you.”

Her eyes lit up with power and the magical net closed around Twilight, surrounding her in a shell of light.

“None.”

“You know nothing!” Twilight barked back, and raw magic spilled out of her mouth like smoke. She fell to her side as all strength seemed to leave her. She felt herself slip away from her own body, receding until she was stuck in a little box deep in her own head. She watched herself struggle to her hooves, glare up at Celestia with seething hatred. “You cannot delay this any longer!”

Celestia’s eyes widened as a purple glow enveloped Twilight, pushing back against her magical trap. “I must try,” Celestia insisted, more to herself than Twilight. She pressed in harder, but that only seemed to make Twilight’s magic stronger. She was losing control. “You...” Her eyes widened. “You are not Twilight,” she said in a broken whisper.

“No,” Twilight heard herself reply, “I am more.”

“I WILL NOT LOSE HER!” Celestia shouted back, her mane bursting into flame. The very rock beneath her split and melted from her volcanic fury. “I WILL NOT! NOT TO THIS!”

“You already have,” Twilight responded.

She blinked.

The cage exploded as her magic surged outward. Celestia was caught up in the shockwave and launched back, crashing through the pedestal.

Everything went black.

---------------

“... And where it’ll start again,” said Dusk Shine, dropping onto his haunches before the pedestal. “The Princes should meet us here soon.”

“Is now a good time?” asked Prince Solaris as he stepped out of the shadows. He wore all his royal regalia, his expression rather grim. 

Dusk Shine jumped to his hooves and hurried over to the Prince, sharing a quick embrace. “You made it!”

“Of course I did. Spines’ letters never miss,” Solaris said, smiling. “So, this is where we will learn the truth?”

“If it’s not I’ll eat what’s left of my horn,” replied Dusk. “This is where Eventide went before her memories were taken.”

Solaris went to the pedestal and stared at it, his expression becoming more forlorn. “This is where we fought,” he whispered. “Where Nightterror taunted me about his eternal night. Where I...” He bowed his head in silent reverence of the distant tragedy. “It is only appropriate that this is where we will uncover the mystery behind Eventide’s affliction.”

“But how do we contact a whole other world?” Dusk wondered. “I’ve felt my double before, but it was always her doing it. I couldn’t consciously find my way to her.

“Then perhaps consciousness is not the answer,” Solaris said, spreading his wings. “Come, my little ponies. We shall see if dreams will give us what the waking world cannot.”

“Is it really going to work?” Applejack asked. Solaris turned his gaze to the farmpony, who shuffled uncomfortably under Solaris’ royal scrutiny.

“I do not know,” Solaris whispered. “I am afraid we are at the same impasse, my friends. This all started with a dream. It only stands to reason that a dream will show us the way forward.”

“Shouldn’t Artemis be party to this?” Elusive asked.

“He is watching,” Solaris said, “from afar. The memories here pain him greatly, and he cannot stand to be near it. Fear not, for he is watching, and will be here in an instant if danger comes upon us.”

“We’re all going!” Rainbow said, puffing out his chest. “No way we’re letting Dusk take this on alone! Even if it just a bunch of mares.”

“I don’t know what we’ll be facing in there,” Dusk said with a sigh. “I don’t even know how to contact her, or if whatever force destroyed my horn before will happen again and do worse this time. Not even Artemis could stop that.”

“I will guide you,” answered Solaris. “I am not Artemis, but I know much of his magic.” His gaze went to one of the windows, to stare at the moon above. “I had to.”

“To help Eventide?” asked Dusk. Solaris only nodded in response.

Dusk gulped. “Solaris, what happened? What really happened to her, after that night she went into the castle? Why is everything after that night blank?”

Dusk would never forget the haunted expression that fell over Solaris’ face.

“So do I,” the alicorn replied. “Dusk... I’m sorry, but there is a greater blank space in my mind than in your book. I am afraid I simply cannot remember anything of poor Eventide since the day I found her in this accursed castle. And I fear the same fate might befall you.”

Dusk’s ears drooped. “Can’t remember? What do you mean?”

“I mean I fear that the influence that broke your horn and tried to steal your memories has since afflicted me,” said Solaris. “And may Eventide forgive me, but it was not until just when you mentioned her fate that I turned my mind to it and found nothing there.”

Dusk shivered as a sense of dread came upon him, but then then her face appeared in his mind, and he remembered her soothing voice, and all his fears disappeared. He straightened his shoulders and looked up at the Prince with renewed determination. “Do you trust me, Solaris?”

The alicorn breathed in deep. “More than I can put into words, my faithful student. We must have our answers, or this terrible fate will only befall more ponies.”

Dusk nodded. “Then we don’t have time to waste. Let’s go. I’ll do my best to join my magic to yours, and then you take us into the dream.”

“Prepare yourselves, my little ponies,” Solaris intoned as his horn lit up. “The truth may well be more painful than not knowing.”

Dusk closed his eyes. The glow from Solaris’ horn expanded to fill his vision. He felt himself drift away just like the night on Artemis’ balcony, fading into sleep, and then...

Nothing.

Dusk opened his eyes again. He was surrounded by darkness that seemed to go on forever, yet crowd in all around him. The floor beneath him was invisible and intangible. The air tasted vaguely of soot.

“Hello?” he asked, and his voice did not echo. “Solaris? Rainbow? Bubble?”

No answer.

“Hello!” he called again, taking a step forward but going nowhere. Without a plane of reference it felt as if something held him still and he just made walking motions in thin air. Was this the dream? Did something go wrong?

You stole Morningtide’s memories!

“Who said that?!” Dusk asked, whirling around.

Why?

He turned another way and began to run, not caring which way he went or how far he ran. He started at a slow canter, which turned into a full blown gallop as a rising fear at being left all alone turned to panic.

“Hello?! Anypony! Help me! What’s going on? Solaris! Solaris!”

He kept running, for minutes or hours he didn’t know. The darkness followed him, herded him, taunted him with the feeling of open space without ever delivering. On and on Dusk ran, heedless of anything but trying to convince himself that he was going somewhere.

“Help! Help!” he called out, but his words were swallowed by the blackness the moment they left his lips.

You know nothing!

He stopped. There was something familiar about this dark place.

“Of course,” he whispered, and turned around.

There she stood, her back to him as always.

“It’s you,” he said.

No. I am more.

There was something pained about her voice. “What?” asked Dusk, taking a step closer. “More? I don’t understand, you were perfect the way you were! I wasn’t trying to change anything!”

You already have.

They stood there for an eternity, and Dusk heard the sounds of crying filling every moment. It wrapped around him and wriggled into every crevice, filling his soul with immeasurable sorrow. It was like a knife stabbing him in the heart, filling him with numbing poison. He vaguely felt the urge to go to her, the instinctive need to comfort another pony in pain, but this went beyond anything gentle touches and cooing words could solve. It was something he couldn’t even fathom, and yet he knew it better than he knew himself.

“Betrayal,” he said, but didn’t know where the word came from.

She spun to face him and Dusk gasped, not with ecstasy or wonder but the seizing terror of suddenly realizing something was terribly, terribly wrong. Her face was not as he remembered. It had no surprise, no leaping joy at the sound of the truth breaking through weeks of cloudy suspicion. It wasn’t distantly, untouchably beautiful like it had been when he first beheld it. Her fathomless eyes were splashed with red and filled with tears, too immediate, too pained to be that of a dream. He saw the pain of a daughter torn from her mother’s side.

“Tell me a story, Dusk,” she said. Her voice was scratchy and tight like a saw about to break a length of wood. It filled the blackness and echoed back at him a million times louder, a demand sent from the vanishing point of eternity. “Tell me a story with a happy ending.”

“I... what?” Dusk asked, uncomprehending.

Her steps were wobbly as she staggered towards him.

“We never got to the end of our dream,” she whimpered, “we never got to see what happened when we met.”

Something wriggled under her skin. It was a spot of darkness, crawling up her face and into her eye, spreading its tendrils sickeningly slow through the whites and into her pupil, and turning her whole eye black. Dusk cried out, hopping backwards but unable to tear his eyes away. His mind was locked in the moment, glued to the floor by the immediacy of it all. He understood that he needed to hear this. But oh, how he wanted nothing more than to run in the direction most opposite to this thing that once ruled his dreams.

“I understand now,” she whispered, “but they were right. The Princesses were right. But they were only right about how wrong they were.”

She reached out to him with her hoof. It sizzled and hissed as a pool of darkness  surrounded it. He fell back from her and couldn’t help himself. He started to scream. Her whisper was infinitely louder as she came closer, closer. A lump of freezing cold dropped into Dusk’s stomach as the spot she was about to touch started to burn, tingling with anticipation. His pupils contracted, focusing in on that one spot, and his mind screamed with everything it had: Don’t let her touch you!

“I know what our story is now,” she said, and her inexorable touch dropped delicately onto his chest. 

The mare’s lips twitched grotesquely upward. Bitterness stained her words as she grinned and snarled all at once. “A tragedy.”

The darkness on her hoof spread into his body, slithering down into his flesh. Every inch it burrowed deeper burned and froze and shocked him until he felt it reach deeper, into a part of him nopony else had touched. It slid into the very current of magic that ran through his body and poisoned it, seeping through him and leaking out his horn in a thick, viscous black corruption. But at the same time, it didn’t just reach through him. He saw it crawling back up her hoof, consuming her whole leg in slithering black, making a beeline over her torso towards her cutie mark.

The mare spoke again as the darkness ate them both piece by piece, her mocking grin still etched on her face even as she twitched and shuddered with pain. 

“Tragedy: a dramatic composition, often in verse, dealing with a serious or somber theme, typically that of a pony destined through a flaw of character or conflict with some overpowering force, as fate or society, to downfall or destruction.”

“Stop! Please!” he moaned as he felt something terrible seep deep inside, staining his spirit. “I don’t understand!”

The mare shuddered horribly as the darkness curved back around to start eating away at her neck. “But we were perfect, weren’t we Dusk? We had no flaws. No, we were doomed by other ponies. Ponies who I trusted more than anything in the world and trapped us all in their own arrogance. This happened because there was no other way for it to happen. They hurt me. They lied to me. They knew they couldn’t stop me or their own mistakes. It broke me, Dusk. To know that they saw all of this coming and couldn’t stop it because of what they did. How they thought hurting me could somehow stop them from losing me.”

She brought her face down close to his, and instead of ecstasy he felt only mind-numbing terror.

“Let me tell you a story.”

The darkness crawled into his eyes and consumed everything.

------------

Sight returned to him gradually, not that it mattered when he was still in the middle of nowhere. Dusk floated in a great abyss not unlike the ones he had seen the mare in before. It was a place of potential rather than emptiness, filled with unspoken ambitions. He pedaled his hooves, angling up or maybe down, and swam through the murky sea of possibilities until a book materialized in front of him. It opened without him touching it and flipped to the first page, beckoning him to read. A pony’s story unfolded within. It was a long story, full of dedicated research and endless pining for something more. It came to a part about a great discovery about to be made in a castle in the woods. Illustrations painted themselves onto the pages, and as Dusk floated closer he saw the images come to life until he felt he was inside the pictures and living a whole new life. He found himself in a great hall and saw a unicorn standing in the middle of it in the dead of night. It was a mare, slate grey with a silver mane and a cutie mark of a pony slumbering under a blanket of stars. She stood before a pedestal where rested five stone spheres.
 
Dusk watched as she knelt before the pedestal and her horn began to glow.

Once upon a time, there was a mare who believed that stories had more power than ponies could ever imagine.

A page turned, and in the mare’s place there now knelt a stallion, exactly the same colors as the mare, down to the cutie mark.

She met the stallion of her dreams and spent the rest of her life searching for him, never knowing how close they really were.

The stallion looked up as the pedestal began to glow. Through the window, Dusk could see the Moon twinkle like a star, and the pony-like silhouette upon it began to waver. A shadow fell over the stallion and touched his horn, leaving a blot of darkness on the tip.

They thought that dreams could touch worlds they would never see. They ripped the pages from their own stories and put them into each other’s, hoping against hope that in seeing the dreams of others, they would understand ponies they would never meet.

They found each other, yes. But then something went wrong. Well, wrong for them.

The stallion fell back to the ground, and the dark shadow on his horn expanded to cover his face.

Dreams are just stories that have not escaped the mind. They are not bound by a prison of words and paper, and while their stories were still incubating, still unfinished, they tried to dream the same dream and started writing on each other’s pages. 

They never thought that their story was subject to revisal.

The page turned again and Dusk saw the mare in a similar predicament, clawing at herself as the shadows slithered down her cheeks towards her mouth. Another page later and the stallion was writhing in agony on the floor. Before him stood a tall white alicorn, but it was not Solaris, not with that wavering mane and mare-like features. The stallion stood up and began to stagger towards the doorway. A golden light shot from the alicorn’s horn and formed a wall ahead of him, stopping him in his tracks.

I was so close to finishing their story then. I was at the last page, ready to end it all with one last punctuation mark, and then SHE came. She tore out the last page of the book, ending the dream before it could end itself! She twisted a whole reality to her whims when she realized it would not find her sister!

The not-quite-Solaris alicorn said something that could have been “I’m sorry.” The light from her horn struck the stallion, who started convulsing on the ground. The image on the Moon shimmered like a warped painting suddenly soaked in water, and the darkness sprang away from the stallion.
 
The page turned again. The mare lay on the ground in a catatonic state. Prince Solaris appeared, kneeling down to nuzzle her, begging her to awaken.
 
The mare, the hall, and then the entire world faded into nothingness. Every page after was blank.

She fed him a lie, drop by drop, hint by hint, and let him gorge on his own fantasies.  She told the poor stallion Morningtide to use his power to bridge the gap between her and her sister, and let him believe it would answer his life’s greatest questions. To break the barriers and tie every little stream of dreams into a vast ocean that could be charted, and find the nightmare her sister was trapped in. But when she saw the true power of unfinished stories and how they could influence hers, rewrite whole sections of her nice, neat little tale of a perfect Equestria, she slammed the gates shut and destroyed a pony’s dreams forever!

And so Eventide faded into nothing without the stallion to dream the rest of her story. And in the darkness, adrift in the Sea Where Dreams Come From, her sister still festered.

I FESTERED IN SORROW AND ANGER AND REGRET, DROWNING IN ONE PONY’S PATHETIC, SNIVELING APOLOGIES OVER AND OVER AND OVER.

The light flashed, and she was there, binding a dark alicorn mare with the power of the Elements. Here, she was as Dusk dreamed, all beauty and power and innocence destroying the embodiment of evil with her purity. Dusk gasped, awestruck by the mere sight of her.

But then Magic found its next holder. A new story began and with it a new world came into being: your world. And I was defeated once more, cast into the outer void as I was separated from my rightful host. Adrift in the sea of dreams, stuck in a million billion different stories, and none of them were what I wanted.

Dusk saw he and his friends standing before Nightterror Nebula as he was consumed by a rainbow, but somehow it was less awe-inspiring than the other version. The colors were less full, the sounds a little muted. He saw certain details missing wherever he and his friends didn’t look. Blank spaces in place of stone. Patches of white on an unfinished sky.

The day her story began was the day you became important. Just like the day Morningtide found his special mare in his dreams when his cutie mark helped him craft a new world. Because stories, for all their power, are just so wonderfully malleable. Like yours.

That night, after her great victory over the dark alicorn, the mare that looked just like him snuggled up in her bed and dreamed wonderful things of a new life to be spent in Ponyville with her new friends. And Dusk saw the book write down his own life alongside hers, ever parallel and never meeting. 

Do you remember anything before that day?

Dusk turned back to the beginning. Here and there, scattered between the full chapters of the mare’s life, were blank pages. Dozens of them, one after the other. He realized these were places where his story was meant to be told.
 
A creeping horror fell upon Dusk.

You found Eventide’s book because the writer of your story wanted you to find it. And you came here because that is what you had to do, isn’t it? When the mare who writes what you do on the pages of her mind answered your call, you gave yourself to her.
 
And so to me.

Blank pages flew by as they flipped of their own accord, staring up at him, years of his life simply nonexistent. The pages suddenly gave way to words, giving him glimpses of his days just after he came to Ponyville, leading up to this exact moment, which he read with ever-growing alarm as the book transcribed everything as it happened. The words wrote themselves as his eyes flew over the page, describing his every movement, every rapid-fire panicked thought that raced through his mind.
 
And then he saw his name.
 
Your story is unfinished, Dusk. But have no fear.
 
The world returned to darkness.
 
I am here to bring it to its conclusion.

Dusk turned around and saw a leering mockery of the mare’s face staring at him. She was covered in darkness. Patches of her fur were missing and her cutie mark was covered in angry red scratches. Her eyes were pitch black, holes in her head that went back further than what should have been possible.

“Welcome to my writing room,” it said.

They were in a great white space that went on forever in every direction. Over the thing’s shoulder, she sat in a cage, bereft of hope and smothered in despair. His heart ached and he longed to reach out to her, feeling that somepony as wonderful as her should never be sad, but some invisible force kept him pinned in place. He looked down and saw his whole body encased in ropy black webbing, holding him fast to the floor and muzzling his mouth.

“You are the bridge I will use to write myself into her world, her perfect, finished world, and destroy the heart of every dream that has ever been. You were never the main character here, Dusk. You’re not even a support. You are NOTHING. You’re a whimsy, a minor spin-off of a greater tale. You exist because she exists, because her story is there to inspire your own. But you played your part wonderfully, tangling your tale with her own. The power of the Elements echoes through creation, and Magic drew you closer to Magic. And I rode you in.”

It grinned and ooze seeped between its fangs as it stepped towards her, placing a hoof covered in black sludge on her shoulder through the bars of the cage. She shivered at the thing’s touch and squeezed her eyes shut as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Dusk tried to move forward, to cry out in defiance, to stop this travesty from happening. She was too pure, too whole to be sullied by that depraved, warped vision of herself.

Stop it! he wanted to say, reaching out to touch her magic like they had before. But what could a reflection do to touch the pony beyond the mirror?

Listen to me! Don’t listen to that thing! he shouted in the confines of his mind. Get up! Do something! You’re the mare I’ve dreamed about, the one I always wanted! You can’t be this weak now!

But he couldn’t move, and she chose not to move, and the creature kept talking.

“She knows the truth now, a truth a pony she loved more than life itself hid from her her entire life. And when the truth reared its ugly head as it always does, the perfect Princess chose instead to slam the gates shut on this poor mare’s dreams. She was broken, and I seeped into the cracks. And then you came along and helped her break the doorway. You helped me into her mind. But I still cannot manifest completely and take her for myself.”

The thing that used to be the mare of Dusk’s dreams stood up and threw up its hooves grandly, spreading ichor all over the ground.

“A dream still exists in her mind! A dream of an Equestria where she is trusted and loved fully by a mentor who accepts her own flaws and works together with ponies, instead of demanding that they stay in blissful ignorance! It’s a story with a sickeningly sweet ending.”

It leveled a dripping hoof at Dusk. “Your story. And as long as you are alive, her dream is not the nightmare I need it to be. But now she is in here.” It tapped the roof of the cage. “Hiding from pain and deceit, hiding from her own power that she fears so much. She will not so much as think about you, now. Leaving your story open to revision.”

Another wave of its hoof brought out a little typewriter with a brand new page, ready to be written on. The sick mockery of a pony dropped onto its haunches, cracked its knuckles, and began playfully slapping its oozing hooves down on the keys, tap tapping away as thick black sludge splashed all over the paper.

Dusk grunted and struggled against his bindings. Most of what the monstrosity had said had gone right over him, too grand and big for him to think about now. All he knew was that he had to get free. He had to break the cage, had to warn his friends and get away!

“And so Dusk Shine felt the jaws of fate closing in, snapping shut on everything he ever knew and loved. He didn’t believe the Nightmare now, but he would in time. Soon its true power over his world would be made clear. The Nightmare let him run; it needed him for now. He was still the main character of this story, unimportant as it was in the grand scheme. He was hope, and hope needed a little tenderizing before it could be crushed.”

Dusk felt his bonds begin to twist and snap around him, ignoring the poisonous lies the Nightmare poured into his ears. One hoof came free and he pulled at the rest of the gunk, ripping it away from him. It tore painfully at his fur and skin but he didn’t care, using the pain to fuel his anger. This beast had sullied his perfect vision, corrupted his dream of the mare that he knew he had to save. He wouldn’t let it win.

“He was the only pony that mattered anymore, and that was why the Nightmare let him go.”

The last of his bindings came free. Dusk turned and ran. If he got out of here, found the Elements, he could destroy the Nightmare just like he did last time. Behind him the Nightmare laughed and laughed and laughed, chasing him out of the dream world as he ran to a door in the middle of nowhere, with a ridiculously out of place sign above it that read “Exit.”

He pulled it open and burst through the door, slamming it shut on the Nightmare’s grinning face.

“The Nightmare would kill him last.”

-------------

Dusk exploded back into consciousness. He kicked his hooves and rolled onto his stomach, leaping up to see his friends gathered around him.

“Guys, listen!” he gasped. “Something horrible has happened! I don’t know what, but I think Nightterror’s back! He’s been using us this entire time, and—”

He stopped when he saw them all not looking at him, but past him. Up at something that loomed over his shoulder. Even Solaris had been shocked into silence.

Dusk’s heart dropped into his stomach as he turned.

Before him stood the armor-clad form of Nightterror Nebula, his eyes glowing red under his helmet. A living cloak of darkness swirled around him, reaching out and clawing at the ground. His wings spread out to their full length and drove the shadows out, smothering everything nearby in shadow. His ethereal mane billowed behind him, crackling with the absolute chill of deep space. Steam coiled out of his nostrils as he took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, happy sigh.

“Oh,” he said with a grin that exposed a mouthful of jagged fangs, “this is going to be fun.”

> Dragon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle liked to think she was a rational pony. All her life she had found her answers through concentrated study of unknown phenomena, utilizing the scientific method to demonstrate that there was a consistent, mundane explanation or lack thereof for anything she could turn her mind to.

She had never thought that her mind itself would be co-opted by the horrifying creature that sat in front of her cage, chortling to itself as it gleefully typed out the doom of an entire world on a small sheet of paper.

Dreams, stories, creative power... all of it was just too much for Twilight dwell on. Her own mentor, the pony she thought of all others who would never betray her, never send her into a situation that she or her friends couldn’t overcome, had actively misguided her for years. Her victory over Nightmare Moon was a minor quibble, a small upset in its grand scheme. And Twilight had wandered right into the dark force’s trap, all because Celestia had carefully hidden the truth from her. It was almost as though she had been working with the Nightmare all along, if inadvertently.

What hurt Twilight the most wasn’t that Celestia hadn’t told her everything; it was that she would never tell Twilight everything. She had kept the knowledge of other worlds and the creative power of the Elements away from her best pupil. And now, utterly beaten by her own emotional frailty and the inescapable hugeness of the truth, Twilight couldn’t even get worked up over the fact that Nightmare Moon—or the thing that called itself Nightmare Moon—was going to use her to destroy everything she loved. She tried to be angry, but felt only cold and numb. She tried to be fearful, but felt only dull and ambivalent. Everything felt so far away: the love of her friends, family, and mentor. Celestia especially so. She had put Twilight in this situation with her lack of trust, and now it was time to reap the whirlwind. Twilight didn’t know if she felt more betrayed or insulted.

She imagined she’d have a lot of time to stew over that while the Nightmare kept her here.

“Are you Nightmare Moon? Or something else?” she asked.

The crude, warped version of herself stopped typing and looked over its shoulder. Twilight cringed at its snaggle-toothed grin and empty black eyes.

“What a strange question,” it said. “Whatever do you mean by ‘something else’ or ‘Nightmare Moon?’ Can I not be both?”

“That’s a bit of an easy way out,” Twilight grumbled.

“The simplest truths are the hardest ones to accept,” Nightmare-Twilight burbled as thick black ooze dribbled out between its teeth. “I am Nightmare Moon because I was part of her. At the same time I am more than Nightmare Moon, because now I am part of you, too. And I am Nightterror Nebula, Darkmoon Destroyer, Anarchy Apollo, and whatever other silliness you ponies labeled me with in any number of iterations of this world. I am the Nemesis.”

It stood up and seemed to grow a little larger, taking up more of Twilight’s vision though it never moved closer. It loomed over her with nothing but its own sheer malice, the emptiness taking on a life of its own and wrapping around Twilight’s mind like a vice, squeezing all life and light from the universe. It kept growing until it seemed to fill all of reality and Twilight’s little box was the only sane place left in existence. When it spoke, the noise came from all around.

“I am everything, Twilight. And soon I will be you and you will be me, and there will be nothing that we cannot do together.”

“I bet you told Luna the same thing,” Twilight snapped against the hungry darkness that nibbled at the bars of her cage, “and we stopped you then.”

“Ah, but then I did not have you,” the Nightmare said, grinning as it retracted to its original size, “and what use are the Elements when Magic will not bind them together? You’ve already given up. Save your anger for Celestia when she tries to imprison you again. We’ll have so much fun getting our revenge.”

Twilight’s ears perked at the mention of the Elements. Maybe her friends would—! But the hope was crushed by an immediate and overwhelming despair as she realized the Nightmare was right. Even if her friends all came together, they still didn’t have her. She was stuck in a cage in the middle of nowhere in her own head. And what had Magic done but led her to this horrible fate? She couldn’t even trust her own Element, so why would the others be any use? 

You let this happen, she hissed at herself. You knew the Nightmare was inside and you ignored it. For what? You’re the Element of Magic and you practically gave yourself into this thing’s hooves! What good are you?

Nothing answered her. She was all alone now.

Twilight slumped. “It’s not like it matters what happens to Celestia,” she whispered. “This is all her fault, anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” the Nightmare purred. “Isn’t it strange, Twilight, how the ones you trust the most are always the ones with the most to hide? The more love you heap on a pony, the more frightened they become. Frightened of pain, of disappointment, and death. Celestia feared you, Twilight. She feared your power and she feared her love for you would blind her to what she thought she had to do. Just as she once feared and loved another little pony she took under her wing and whispered littles lies to. Poor Luna made it almost too easy for me.”

The Nightmare pressed its face against the bars of the cage, warping its already distorted features. “And just as I knew it would, fear overcame love all over again. Trust me, Twilight. You’re better off this way. At least now things will never be uncertain for you again. I tell no lies; I simply do what I was always meant to.”

Twilight sighed, dropping onto her stomach and burying her face in her hooves. “Dusk is still alive,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying that to keep what dwindling hope there was alive, or to try and speed everything to its doom so she could be done with mysteries and betrayal.

The Nightmare nodded sagely. “Yes, but it will be a trifling thing to kill him. Just like Celestia, just like your own magic, he betrayed you, selfishly seeking what he wanted without thinking of the consequences. Besides, why even think of such things when I’ve already won? We’ve already reached the climax of this tale, Twilight, and now we have but to witness the falling action before the resolution.”

It grinned viciously and sent a crawling tentacle into the cage, wrapping around her mane and pulling her up by the hairs. She cried out and reflexively tried to pull the disgusting appendage away—it was cold as ice and its grip was like iron. But her hooves stuck fast to it as it yanked her to the cage’s bars and mashed her face against them. The Nightmare leaned against the cage, touching her shoulder through the bars like they were old friends watching a movie.

“Watch,” it said, materializing a window with its hoof. Beyond it, Twilight could see Dusk Shine and his friends gaping up at Nightterror Nebula.

Twilight’s heart fell into her stomach as she saw the power of the Nightmare in Dusk’s world. The relentless clacking of the typewriter beat on her ears.

“Watch as everything falls.”

And so with a sad sigh, Twilight did nothing but watch, and everything fell.

---------------

Dusk Shine stumbled away from the dark alicorn. He tried to think of what to do or how to fight, but everywhere he turned he just found Nightterror’s sneering face, already victorious. Feelings of utter hopelessness and despair crashed on him over and over in waves as the alicorn’s chest rose and fell.

“Solaris!” he called out, but his mentor just stood there, pupils shrunk to pinpricks and wings quivering half-unfurled, caught between fight or flight. Dusk felt another bitter stab of misery as he saw the once proud alicorn suddenly so frail and frightful, not even reacting to his student’s peril.

Nightterror took a step forward and everypony else took a step back.

“Well, this is disappointing. No grand speeches, Solaris? No great burst of magical power? Where is the mighty Prince I dueled so long ago? Where is the bright shining immortal who swore to protect this world with his life?”

“You were destroyed,” Solaris hissed, his mane kicking up in a solar wind he conjured from millions of miles away, his horn glowing with righteous fury. “You were expunged! Never to make your mark on this world again!”

“Expunged, yes!” crowed Nightterror. “But far from destroyed! Oh, my little ponies, I have such a secret to share with all of you!”

He laughed and his mane swirled overhead, becoming a tornado of stars and galaxies that all burned with the distant light of cold malevolence. Nightterror advanced on them all, forcing them back as a carpet of darkness expanded out from his hooves, threatening to swallow them whole. Shadowy tendrils dripping black ooze sprang out of the oncoming abyss, whipping around and smashing through the ancient stone pillars and walls of the castle like a hoof through wet paper. Wherever the darkness went, nothing was left behind. Colors smeared eerily into each other and rock melted without heat; moss shriveled and died. The very fabric of the world melted down wherever the Nightmare strode. Dusk’s eye twitched and his horn began to scream again. There was something horribly wrong with those scars in the skin of the world, something that ate up magic and life and left a terrible, absolute nothingness.

“I am not the Nightterror you remember. I am much more than a simple villain in an amateurish morality play. Within me exists every dark thought that has ever been!”

Nightterror’s form shifted with oily smoothness, changing with every step. His legs grew more slender and his neck less stocky, his snout shrinking within the confines of his helmet. His baleful red eyes shifted to a deep, alluring aquamarine. Dusk fell onto his haunches in disbelief as things began to fall into place and Nightterror completed his transformation.

“Nightmare Moon!” purred the now very female alicorn as she strutted back and forth, tossing her mane imperiously. “Nightterror Nebula!” she barked as she shifted back into her demonic male counterpart. “And an infinity of dark and terrible things besides! I am all of them and more, and now that I am here your world has come to the end of its utility.”

“The Elements!” Dusk screamed. “We have to use them, now!”

“Go on then,” Nightterror murmured, grinning placidly. “Try your little deus ex machina. It will make no difference.”

Dusk scrunched his eyes shut, pinning his ears back against his head as he tried to summon the Element of Magic, calling out to the others to give him strength and hope. It wasn’t like casting a spell, more like feeling it, and Dusk gritted his teeth as he waited for the resulting explosion of joy and confidence that came from his friends.

But nothing happened.

Dusk opened his eyes and ears and the world was in chaos again, and Nightterror still had that look of smug superiority. He closed his eyes and tried again.

Nothing. There’s nothing there. It’s not just not working, it’s just gone!

“No!” he screamed, turning to look his friends in the eye.

“Applejack! Elusive! Rainbow, Berry, Butterscotch, listen to me!” he shouted, running up to Elusive and giving him a good hard smack across the cheek. “The Elements! Call them! Summon them now!”

“I... I can’t!” Elusive gasped, clutching his head with his hooves. “I can’t feel them anymore, Dusk! It’s not working!”

“That’s impossible!” Dusk moaned as he looked at the hopeless expressions on the others’ faces. 

“But... but they have to work!” Dusk shouted, trying to cow the impossibility of the situation with sheer willpower. “They’re the only thing left that we can—”

“The only thing? Oh, no,” said Nightterror. “The only thing left for you all to do is die.” He aimed his horn at them all, and it began to glow with devious intent. He was interrupted by Solaris crashing bodily into him and sending him through the wall of the castle with a blast of golden light.

“You will not lay a hoof on any of my ponies!” Solaris roared, his mane and tail exploding into violent flaming tempests as he spread his wings. “We have defeated you once before, creature, and we will do so aga—”

A solid lance of darkness crashed into his chest and lifted the alicorn clear off his hooves, sending him tumbling end over end until he smashed into another pillar, wiping out the lower section.

“Solaris!” Dusk cried out, rushing to his teacher’s side. Another burst of golden light, dimmer than the one that came before, exploded out as Solaris struggled to his hooves, magically pushing Dusk back to the side of his friends. 

“Stay back!” Solaris shouted, and the sound of his voice was like a wall breaking in two, forcing Dusk to hold his ground. His friends, still frozen with horror at their sheer ineffectiveness, could only watch as Nightterror stepped back through the hole in the wall he had just crashed through. His armor wasn’t even scratched.

“Ha ha! There is the Solaris I used to know! Or is it the Solaris I only dreamed of? It’s so hard to get it all in order after all the Solarises and Celestias and what-have-yous I’ve gone through to get here.”

Solaris snorted, attempting to summon another burst of power. But Dusk saw the tempestuous gouts of flame that were his mane and tail were lesser in intensity now, sputtering more than roaring and...

And less colorful?

Dusk recoiled. Somehow the yellows and reds were muted and dull, and the once pure white of his coat was grey as if covered in soot. The alicorn swayed on his hooves, nearly imperceptible to the naked eye, but it made the Nightmare smirk.

“I will have no more of your lies, thing of evil!” Solaris spat. “Crawl back to the dark pit you came from!” Flames as bright as the Sun surrounded Solaris in a gleaming shield, turning the stone beneath him red hot. Dusk raised a hoof to shield his eyes from the extreme glare, feeling his mane sizzle.

“Dusk!” Solaris shouted over the bellowing conflagration. “Get down!”

The wall of fire coalesced into a writhing vortex that lunged at Nightterror, enveloping the dark alicorn in a massive firestorm that swam over his body and consumed him completely. The noise and heat and confusion was so intense that Dusk and his friends dived behind a fallen pillar, shielding their heads and ears as they cowered in the shadows from the blistering heat that consumed the great hall.

“The light of the Sun burns away all falsehood!” Solaris’ voice thundered. “Let it consume you like the speck of dust that you are!”

Dusk pressed his face against the stone as far as it would go, hiding from the blinding light and blistering heat that filled every crevice of the great hall. On and on the noise and confusion crashed against his ears, seemingly interminable. Dusk felt a scratchy pain in his throat, and realized he was screaming but couldn’t hear himself over the raging inferno.

Then came deafening a silence.

Dusk slowly opened his eyes and prized his hooves away from his head, peering over the smoldering, ash-cloaked remains of the pillar.

There stood Solaris, panting heavily as his mane and tail fluttered weakly, sputtering errant gouts of flame and light as they drooped against his back and withers. The Prince looked worn and drawn, somehow smaller and thinner than Dusk remembered. His eyes were unfocused and downcast.

Before him stood Nightterror, his cloak of darkness untouched and his armor not even singed.

“Impossible,” Solaris rasped, struggling to stay upright. “So weak... How can this be?”

“All is as it was written,” said Nightterror, “and we must play our parts to the letter.” He turned to look at Dusk once more. “Dusk knows. Don’t you, Dusk? Tell them what I told you. Tell them the true insignificance of your meager lives.”

“No,” Dusk whispered, shaking his head. “No, it’s not true! It can’t be true! You’re just Nightterror Nebula and we beat you before and we will again!”

“Paltry efforts to stave the inevitable,” Nightterror intoned, spreading his wings and expanding his starry mane until it almost engulfed the width of the hall. “But where is my former host? Cowering in darkness until I find him there, shivering and alone like the day he let me in before? Come out, Prince Artemis! Let me show my mastery over you and your brother like the story demands! Or are you just—”

Dusk and his friends fell backwards once again as a massive stone, dislodged from the ceiling, crashed down atop Nightterror’s head and pummeled him into the ground. This was followed by a veritable avalanche of masonry and ancient rock, directed straight onto the spot Nightterror had been standing. Once again the old hall erupted with the sharp crack of rock smashing apart rock and powerful granite driving into the ground. A tidal wave of dust exploded outward and smothered the other ponies as they took shelter behind wings, hooves, or even each other.

Atop the pile of still falling wreckage Prince Artemis landed, his jaw set and his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. White light cascaded from his horn and seeped into the cracks between the rocks. They vanished, and then the muffled thud of an explosion reached Dusk’s ears, and the pile of boulders shifted slightly.

“Fear not, Solaris!” Artemis said, leaping to his brother’s aid. “I am here!”

“Not a moment too soon, brother,” Solaris coughed, clearing the dust with one wing.

Artemis turned back to face the pile of rock Nightterror was buried under. “We will prevail this night or I am no Prince! Dusk Shine, take your friends and find shelter! We will deal with this creature!”

“I’m standing right here, you know.”

Nightterror perched atop the pile of rocks, smirking. Even Artemis recoiled this time as the monstrous alicorn showed not even a single scratch. The darkness spread once again, consuming the rock as it leeched away color and life from the very fabric of time and space.

“Monster!” Artemis shouted, spreading his wings. “I do not know how you were resurrected, but this was the last time! You will not plague me anymore!” He launched off with his wings, preparing another spell as he tucked his hooves in for a tackle, accelerating to near supersonic speed in the space of a breath.

Dusk saw everything: the feathers fluttering in the Prince’s majestic wings, the long trail of starry mist that Artemis left in his wake. He saw the Prince’s eyes glowing with power as his horn prepared to unleash the wrath of the void on the dark creature who stood calmly, even happily in the face of Artemis’ wrath.

Dusk had no time to cry out, unable to even blink before the carpet of darkness at Nightterror’s hooves shifted, undulated, rose to meet the Prince mid-flight. He watched as a bulge of shadow twisted in on itself, growing narrower, sharper. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Solaris’s mouth begin to open in a wordless cry.

Far away, Dusk heard the sound of a nail being driven into something soft, along with the sound of something coarse and primal filling the air. It was a rough, hoarse sound like a pony in great pain, unable to fully articulate their agony in words.

Dusk realized it was the sound of Solaris screaming.

Artemis, stopped dead in the air, gurgled wordlessly as he looked down at the spear of shadow driven through his chestplate and thrust gruesomely out between his shoulder blades, stained by thick red ichor.

“There is no magic or matter you can throw at me that has not already been turned against you,” Nightterror whispered. Dusk staggered back onto Elusive, who dropped limply onto his haunches.

Nightterror drove the spear a little further in, making Artemis twitch horribly as his wings flapped behind him. His hooves gripped the spike in his chest, desperately trying to lever himself off it. His horn sputtered and sparked, the magic seeming to drain right out the moment he was about to cast a spell. Nightterror shook his head. “A thousand years you dreamed a dream of immortality... but I am the author of this world, now. The one who dreamed your story has given herself to me, and you are the first piece of her mind that will fall. Appropriate.”

Artemis’ flailing gradually stopped. From the hole made by the protruding spike something that wasn’t blood was already starting to dribble and slither with dreadful, destructive intent: something black and oozing that burned Artemis wherever it went. The spike bent in on itself, becoming a tentacle that wrapped around Artemis and hurled him callously against a wall where he slumped with his hooves over his gory wound. Solaris was at his side in an instant, shrouding Artemis’ body in a golden glow as he tried to close the wound, but all his magic couldn’t halt the slow progress of the decaying blackness.

Nightterror looked up at the sky, where the Moon hovered patiently beyond the clouds. “It is time to end this little distraction. This world’s destiny was never yours to control, my little ponies.” He turned his gaze back to Dusk. “Still tongue-tied, Dusk? Then I will tell them.”

“It’s a lie,” Dusk whimpered. “It’s a lie!”

“Oh,” said Nightterror, mocking him with a tone of false sympathy, “so you do understand. Yes, it is all a lie. A shade. A shadow. You see little ponies, everything that you have done up to this point was a matter of obligation. You are the pale reflections of a far greater heritage. Everything you know, everything you remember, your entire world: nothing but one mare’s broken dream.”

Artemis gurgled under Solaris and began twitching horribly.

“Brother!” Solaris cried, picking Artemis up in his hooves as the darkness seemed to crawl through Artemis’ body, cracking him apart from the inside out. Deep crevices split open in the alicorn’s body, but instead of blood only a smoky, ashen substance spilled out of him. Dusk and his friends recoiled in horror, watching the Prince die bit by bit no matter how Solaris cried or covered his brother’s body in his mournful golden magic. The Nightmare raised a rock with one of its tendrils and studied it, turning it over and over.

“What you fail to understand is the utter depth of your helplessness. You are nothing except what she wanted you to be... and now that authority is mine. And I say: You are nothing.”

The rock crumbled into a fine dust that scattered over the floor. Before its remains hit the ground, the corruption ravaging Artemis reached up and over his face, turning it a pale, corpse-like grey before his body collapsed into a cascade of still sizzling embers and smoke. His wings went last. Dusk found something strangely, mortifyingly pretty about the way Artemis’ loose feathers managed to drift a few feet before catching alight and burning to dust. Where Artemis once was, there was now nothing but a pile of ash.

Solaris didn’t move a muscle, staring blankly at his hooves while his brother’s remains slipped through them like sand. Dusk and the others would not or could not move, gaping at the macabre sight. 

The Nightmare chuckled. “I always love the look on your face when you see the first one die, Prince. Sometimes you’re a Princess, and sometimes you’re a king, but it never fails to amuse me every time I make you—all of you—understand that there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Solaris’ hooves began to tremble.

“Don’t worry. This will be the last time you will suffer so. A dream has no more lasting effect on the world, no more memory of itself than an animal passing through the wood. When I am done here, her mind will be mine, and the Sun will die its true, final death.” The Nightmare turned to Dusk and his friends. “Unless, of course, they want to watch this time. But I’d much rather they run now and die later. I want to make this last obliteration something special.”

“That’s enough!” Rainbow Blitz shouted, rising into the air and shaking his hoof at Nightterror. Tears of helpless rage streamed down his cheeks, and Dusk saw his teeth clenched so hard he thought they’d crack. “You—You’re a liar! A monster! You’re not going to hurt any more ponies, you got that?! We’re stopping you here and now!”

“Dusk Shine,” said Solaris, his voice flat. He still stared at his shaking hooves. “Take your friends and go.”

“No!” Rainbow almost screamed. “This... this thing, it—! Solaris, he—!”

“NO!”

Solaris’ voice was like a solid wall of force rebounding off what remained of the castle’s walls. The pop of compressed air made Dusk’s ears twitch.

Shaking with rage or sorrow, Solaris rose to his hooves. “I know not of what this monstrosity speaks. But I know he is too powerful for you. You must go, and quickly. I’m sorry, my little ponies. It seems you are our last hope once more.”

None of them dared answer while the Nightmare stood patiently nearby. Dusk saw him smirking under his helmet. His horn crackled as magical energy coursed and forked through the air above him.

“Yes, run, my little ponies. Run over the ground that does not exist, and breathe the air that never once graced your lips. Revel in your non-existence for a little while longer and wonder if what you do really matters.”

The Nightmare didn’t even flinch as a bolt of energy from Solaris’ horn crashed into a shield that formed around him in an instant. Entropic bolts made of something that made Dusk’s eyes hurt to look at jumped from the shield back to Solaris’ horn, sending him crashing back into the wall. This time he did not get back up

“No!” Dusk shouted, but his cry was a whisper, a harmless thing that bounced right off the merciless abyss. He leaped to his teacher’s aid, but a lightning bolt crashed into the ground in front of him, forcing him back. Nightterror reared up onto his hind hooves.

“Watch, little ponies. Watch and believe that you never truly were.”

The Nightmare’s mane swirled up and out once again. Black lightning streaked from the miasmic cloud that formed around his head. One by one, the lights in his mane winked out, every star and every galaxy and every distant nebula vanishing from existence. He looked up to the night sky and grinned victoriously, showing off his fangs. In spite of the horror of the situation, Dusk felt compelled, even forced to follow the monster’s gaze. What he saw made his blood run cold and his legs shake uncontrollably. Somewhere behind him, he was fairly certain one of his friends screamed, but there seemed to be a monolithic silence that overcame him as shock dulled every one of his senses and dull resignation washed over him.

In the sky, the stars died.

They started almost painfully slow, disappearing one by one to the point where Dusk almost didn’t notice at first. But the macabre vanishing act sped up, faster and faster, until a wave of darkness welled up and engulfed the whole sky. The stars were swept up into the void, not blanketed, not put out, just gone. Out the window, Dusk saw the world around him begin to vanish into darkness as the last lights that Artemis once communed with completed their journey into oblivion. Dusk’s sanity very nearly folded in on itself as he felt faint, swaying on his hooves and then collapsing onto his stomach. Every shred of his being cried out against the perversion of nature, desperately trying to reassert normality, but he knew what was happening was terribly, horribly real and it was happening whether he wished it or not. 

A massive noise, not quite music and not quite voice and not quite even a sound but more of a proclamation crashed into them immediately after: a loud, blaring note that vibrated down through Dusk’s bones to his very soul. Strange, ugly cracks appeared above them, around them, underneath them; cracks that peered into a grey, dimly lit abyss. A high pitched whine echoed in his ears as he felt himself starting to swoon, and he imagined the sound was all of Equestria screaming as darkness fell.

In less than a minute, it was done. A choking darkness fell over the land that smothered sight and sound, save for the muffled sobbing of Butterscotch, somewhere behind Dusk’s left shoulder. There was also a strange, low rumbling that rose and fell in volume, growing into a gurgling, heavy cackle.

The Nightmare was laughing.

Dusk saw his—no, it couldn’t be a pony anymore, not after seeing that—its eyes glowing red in the dark as it laughed and laughed and laughed, throwing its head back.

“VANISH! VANISH LIKE THE SHADOWS YOU ARE! DO YOU SEE NOW, YOU PATHETIC THINGS? DO YOU FINALLY COMPREHEND  YOUR PURPOSE? YOU ARE NOTHING BUT CREEPERS AND CRAWLERS IN THE FESTERING TATTERED SHEET OF LIFE STREWN THIN OVER THE DEEPS WHERE BIDS THEIR HOLLOW WHIMSIES TO COME AND JOIN THEM! AND HERE MEWLING, AND GNAWING ON THE UNDERBELLY OF TRUTH DO YOU CLING TO THE DREAMS OF THE DREAMERS AND THE SHADOWS OF THE LIGHTS ABOVE! THIS DARKNESS IS BUT THE BLANKET OF TRUTH TO SMOTHER THE BRIGHTEST FLAMING LIE OF THIS ENTIRE UNIVERSE!”

Dusk shook his head. Something in him, some struggling, small, mewling pocket of life refused to bend or break. The Nightmare’s words, so callous and pompous and overbearing, were almost too much on top of everything else. Like a pointless bit of salt to rub into an already festering wound.

Dusk stood back up. 

“FOR SOON HER MIND WILL BE JOINED WITH MINE, AND BY YOUR UNMAKING WILL HER TRUE GREATNESS BE MADE! SEE HOW FRAGILE YOU ARE, TO PERISH IN THE UNDERTOW OF HER FIRST WAKING BREATH!”

Dusk was thrown back down again as something solid knocked him down again, pressing him into the cold stone floor. A great weight settled onto his chest and a sharp pain erupted in his horn. It was immense. The pain ratcheted up to a screeching, horrible agony, a scream of utter defiance against the wrongness of whatever was touching him. Every current of magic still left in him cried out in utter terror as the spark of life was assaulted by living, breathing annihilation.

The stump of his horn glowed bright in the darkness, illuminating the Nightmare as it pressed an armored hoof against his chest. The red eyes beneath its helmet were wide with an almost exultant expectation, like a supplicant about to receive the ultimate blessing from their deity. Ribbons of purple light erupted from Dusk’s horn and slashed into the Nightmare as Dusk cried out in pain and fear and rage.

“And now you will see,” it said, “you will see your world collapse around you, and you will crack and moan and beg for death. I will enjoy breaking you. You must suffer now, Dusk, so that she may suffer, and only when you have let go of everything can I kill you.”

The Nightmare reared back as white hooves curled around its neck and golden lightning smashed into its chest. The grand hall was illuminated by the fury of Prince Solaris as he wrestled the Nightmare away from Dusk, sending spell after spell crashing into the billowing, unstable form of the shadowy monster. The two alicorns were almost completely consumed by the cascading explosions of light that emanated from the magical clash.

“No,” Solaris growled into its ear. “Equestria... will always... endure!”

“A bold effort, mighty Prince,” hissed the Nightmare, its front hooves kicking the air as it thrashed back and forth with the Prince hanging gamely on, “but futile as always!”

The shadow tentacles curled back from Dusk and streaked over the Nightmare’s shoulder, stabbing into Solaris’ shoulders and back. They seemed to grow and expand once they pierced the Prince’s skin, driving deeper and deeper, ripping him apart from the inside out. Solaris’ magic expended one last mighty effort, slowing their progress towards his heart, his face coated with grime and blood and set in grim determination. Every last bit of the immortal alicorn’s will went towards holding the Nightmare, savoring every last second before he fell.

“Dusk,” Solaris gasped through the pain and fear, “my faithful student! You and your friends are all that can save us! You must run now! Run as fast and far as you can! Make the Elements work!”

Dusk shook his head, unable to stand, unable to think. Everything was happening so fast. Equestria was dead, Artemis was dead, Solaris was dying, and he had to find some way... some way to help.

But there’s nothing to do, is there? he thought to himself. Not when my life was never really mine.

The Prince’s horn glowed even brighter than before. Dusk could see his dying struggles perfectly clearly, now. Lines of light appeared in what was left of the ground beneath them, forming a familiar pattern that circled around them all. Dusk’s horn shimmered in response, and he understood. A quick headcount saw almost all of his friends within range of the sigil, all of them frozen with fear or shock as they watched their ruler die right in front of them. Dusk looked to the side and saw Bubble Berry shivering on his hooves just outside the circle. He lunged and grabbed Bubble around the middle, dragging him back in so roughly they both fell. Dusk looked up and locked eyes with Solaris as the sigil completed its formation and began to glow. 

In one moment, student and teacher shared a lifetime. Solaris said something, but Dusk couldn’t hear it as a bright light overcame everything and took them all far, far away.

------------------

The Nightmare clopped its hooves as the window shrank into a dot that disappeared with a tiny blip sound.

“Bravo! Bravo!” it said, leaning back against the cage and leering at Twilight. “Ah, it’s those climactic moments you can never get back that I love the most. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You killed them,” Twilight whispered, staring blankly at the space where Dusk’s world had once been. “Both of them... You murdered them!”

“We killed them, Twilight. As Celestia has died to you, Solaris has died to Dusk. It seems horrible now, but this is the only way! The only way to wake up from your self-imposed delusions and free your true power! Have I not already shown you so much, just like I showed Luna when we were Nightmare Moon?”

Twilight covered her face with her hooves. “You’re nothing like Nightmare Moon! She never killed anypony!”

The Nightmare grinned its oozing, baleful grin and stood up. “No? Did you not see the fires burning, the screams in the city as I cast down Celestia’s tower of lies? I must admit, this form is somewhat melodramatic. Personally, I thought the scratched out cutie mark was a fine touch. Would you really prefer something more...”

The Nightmare’s voice dropped to a low, rolling purr as the black ooze slithered out of its throat and every other orifice and dribbled down to coat its entire body. It paced around the cage as the slime bubbled and hissed, ballooning outward around the Nightmare, filling out its limbs and arcing out over its back to create two grotesque, dripping wings, and a horn jutted from the creature’s head. Each step it took brought another rush of ooze until it was nearly three times Twilight’s size, and then the oily coat smoothed out and solidified until a featureless black alicorn stood before Twilight. With a sigh of cosmic wind an ethereal mane and tail billowed out as two aquamarine eyes split open the beast’s face, along with a maw that pulled itself open amidst snapping and tearing of the black tar around its jaws.

“... Familiar?” asked Nightmare Moon as she turned back to leer at Twilight. “I must admit, this is one of my favorite projections. I have always envied the alicorns for their perfection of form.” She tilted her head and lifted a hoof to her snout, smiling coyly behind it. “I have sensed the same covetousness in you. The image of Celestia is burned into your mind like a brand, or rather a scar.”

Twilight slumped against the bars of the cage, tears of helpless rage streaming down her cheeks.“You don’t know the first thing about Celestia.”

But I don’t either. And it cost me everything and now my own magic is eating me from the inside out.

A smarmy grin creased Nightmare’s face.“Denial, Twilight? I thought we worked through that already.”

Twilight put her hooves over her head, rocking back and forth. The Princesses were dead to her, she knew that. But it hurt, it hurt to really accept it, to rip out that part of her heart and cast it away. But some small part of her, the part that remembered downy feathers and lullabies a thousand years old still didn’t want to. It nibbled and nagged her like a worm in her heart, making so many empty promises that everything would go back to normal if she just gave up to Celestia again. Everywhere she turned she had to give something up: herself, her trust, her sanity. She just wanted to curl up in her cage and hide from it all, from the confusion and horror.

“No,” she whispered. “No no no no no. Celestia lied. Everypony lied. You’re lying too.”

“Am I? Little Twilight, I can sense your confusion. That cage is blinding you to yourself, feeding you delusions of better days. I will not be stymied by something as pathetic as false hope.”

Nightmare Moon raised her head and sent a great stream of dark magic shooting up, cleaving the infinitely high ceiling in two.

“Instead of seeing how Celestia lies to you, let us look and see how you lie to yourself.”

------------

Twilight couldn’t differentiate between herself and Magic. It swallowed her whole, consuming every thought, every action, every fiber of her being. She was more radiant than ten thousand suns, all of them burning as bright as they could be. She was more powerful than any alicorn could hope to be, because they lived in the world while Twilight was the world. She turned her head gently to the right and saw everything the northern horizon had to offer, the Crystal Empire and everything beyond it stretching out before her, places ponies would never see and never know. She glanced to the left and saw the infinitude of stars and galaxies and comets and planets beyond the reach of Celestia’s light, stretching beyond even Luna’s imagination in their myriad forms.

Everywhere around her were lights, lights, lights! She took a breath and felt the world come into her and then go out again, and every light quivered in anticipation of what she would do next. She was Magic. She was the lifeblood of the world. She was every small part brought together and made whole.

This is me, Twilight realized. This is what’s inside me. What Celestia knew I could be... and tried to keep me from becoming.

She blinked, and her whole essence flickered uncertainly.

It’s incredible. And fearful.

She lifted her head and saw a Sun standing in front of her, paling in comparison to the sheer magnificence of her own brightness. Between the solar flares, she saw another figure: snow white and tragically beautiful. Celestia was calling out to her across universes, trying to bring her back down to earth. 

“Twilight!” Celestia shouted, tears streaming from her eyes as she stood against the awesome power bleeding off of her former student. “Please! I know you’re still in there! You must hear me! You must retake control!”

Twilight heard herself scoff. “Go back to being your pet?”

Celestia shook her head. “My student.”

“A student is supposed to learn from her teacher!” Twilight screeched, uncontrolled and wildly loud. She almost stopped just to make sure that was her own voice and not some madmare’s. “Why wouldn’t you just help me?”

Celestia’s lips drew into a tight line. “I was,” she began, but Twilight cut her off.

“Mocking every last time you held me under your wing and told me everything would be all right,” she whispered.

Celestia’s gaze wavered. “Twilight, everything I’ve ever done is to protect you. If I had known the true nature of what was happening, I would have done anything to save you from it! But it was... it was too late, and I-”

“Tried to wipe my slate clean, just like you did with Morningtide,” Twilight growled. She lifted a hoof and a ball of magical fire rolled over its surface. Twilight found herself wondering how much it would hurt Celestia if she threw it in her face right now. “You used him to find your sister because you were weak and wanted to end her punishment early! You destroyed him when you found out your weakness opened a door to something awful! Then you locked the door and threw away the key and hoped nopony would dig up your dirty little secret.” She coughed and hacked and wheezed, and something wet and thick and black dropped onto the floor. “Weak. Tyrant. That’s what you always were. A tyrant.”

Celestia stomped her hoof, her eyes wide and desperate, so wide Twilight thought they looked funny on her face. “A tyrant does not take in a child who would have destroyed herself otherwise, does not guide her every day of her life! A tyrant does not listen to a child’s lectures even if they make no sense because they just want to make you feel loved! A tyrant does not give you purpose and hope and friendship, does not love you so much her heart breaks every time she thinks of you!”

The ball of fire rested on the tip of Twilight’s hoof now. She bounced it on her hoof, playing with it in the way a cat toyed with a ball of yarn. “No. They just take away your toys when they decide you’ve had enough playtime.” Her eyes burned. She felt them sizzling in her own sockets from the sheer power eating her up inside. “They just withhold and deny and try to make you fear what they fear and learn only what they know. You said no answers would save me, Celestia? Well what do you have now that the truth is out?”

Celestia gulped down her next words and closed her eyes. “I could only tell you what I could,” she said. “Only what would drive you away from this terrible fate.”

Twilight let the ball of fire sit still as she peered at Celestia. “And I found it anyway, because you taught me to think too well. Luna had it better than you, you know.” She smirked, and something dark and ichorous leaked out of one corner of her mouth. “At least she tried.”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Celestia shouted, and for the first time she sounded a little angry. Twilight found a sick sense of satisfaction about that. “What she did to you was unforgivable! Our... our hoof was forced, and... and there was no other way! We had to keep you away from all this at any cost, because I knew this would happen!”

Twilight snorted. “That’s just it,” she muttered. “You knew. You knew all along and you were afraid and weak. There was always a way out before, wasn’t there? Always a contingency or a siphon. Nightmare Moon was the first.”

Twilight’s hoof jerked up to her forehead as she pretended to swoon, her movements stiff and erratic. “Oh, if only that nasty Nightmare hadn’t come between us! How generous of the Elements to give me a thousand more years to ignore her and let somepony else take care of it!” 

Celestia shook her head. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. “Stop this,” she whispered. “Stop using her to get to me.”

Twilight swung her hoof out again and it hovered in the air like a line was tethering it. “And Morningtide! Poor Morningtide! If only he hadn’t gone and nearly got himself swallowed by Nightmares when I reneged on my punishment like a lazy parent! Good thing that memory spell worked like a charm!” She stood on her hooves and spun in place, her movements morbidly stiff. “And now we come full circle! Little Twilight was going to be your perfect pet project. No mistakes. No misspoken words. Everything controlled and structured and ordered just the way you liked it. Just a perfect little unicorn in a perfect little castle with a perfect, perfect-”

“ENOUGH!” Celestia cried out, but her voice cracked halfway through. “This isn’t you, Twilight! The Nightmare has you and you must fight it! The Twilight I know wouldn’t speak like this! She wouldn’t be so cruel and petty!”

Twilight slumped to the ground. Slowly, deliberately, her eyes came up again. “The Celestia I know would have found a better way,” she whispered in a husky, dry tone.

Celestia didn’t answer, her mouth working ineffectually. “I tried,” she whimpered, and at last a gleaming tear slid down her cheek. “I tried, Twilight. Please understand. If anything of you is left in there, I’m sorry.”

“An apology,” Twilight rasped, “is not an answer.”

Twilight turned around, seeing all her friends standing before her. They shone like little suns, each the color of their Elements. Rainbow’s vivacious red, pulsing in waves like a frantically beating heart. Rarity’s elegant purple, Applejack’s steady orange, Fluttershy’s quiet yellow, and Pinkie’s electric blue. They all stared at her, open-mouthed, eyes glistening with... tears?

They’re afraid of me, of how strong and wonderful I’ve become. Just like Celestia.

“Twilight!” Rarity called into the maelstrom. “Twilight, stop this, please!”

“It’s too much, Twilight! Shut it down!” Applejack cried alongside her.

Twilight shook her head and disintegrated a swathe of the floor, leaving a massive molten scar in the rock and dirt. They all wanted her to stop. Even now, when they stood on the cusp of truth, they were just like Celestia. Stop. Cease. Don’t learn. Don’t grow.

But they’re all still here, she thought. They came all this way with me.

The idea gave her strength, but something came out of the depths of her mind and scoffed at it.

But they’re infused with the power of the Elements like me. Are they really with me? Or are they just following a call? My call? Magic’s call? How much of me is Magic, and how much of them is their love for me and not the demands of their Elements?

She turned back to Celestia and narrowed her eyes. The immortal alicorn took a fearful step back.

She was scared of me too. And she tried to fix me. Control me. Will my friends do the same?

“Twilight!” Celestia called out. “Listen to your friends!”

Twilight didn’t reply. Or maybe she couldn’t. Maybe Magic just didn’t feel like talking to her. Maybe the Nightmare wouldn’t let her. Either way, she didn’t care what Celestia had to say. This was Celestia’s mistake, and Twilight had to find a way to fix it, with or without their help.

She turned back to her friends.

“Applejack,” she asked, her voice thundering, “do you still trust me?”

Applejack’s jaw worked up and down, trying to find an answer. Wondering. Thinking. Hesitating. The farmpony’s orange aura wavered, and Twilight felt a white-hot pang of rage shoot through her.

Applejack’s lower lip quivered. “I... you know I do, sugar—”

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT! DISHONEST! DISHONEST!”

Twilight’s broken horn shot a bolt of pure magic down at Applejack’s hooves. It exploded and sent her sprawling back into Pinkie’s grasp. Fluttershy shrieked and ducked behind Rainbow Dash. Rarity stood still with her mouth agape.

Afraid. All of them afraid of me.

Twilight recoiled, momentarily stung by her own ferocity.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she whispered. “I didn’t...”

She shook her head, trying to remember who she was and what she was doing. One moment she was here, the next she was all over the world. She felt pulled apart in a hundred different directions, wanting to destroy, create, burn, soothe, and run all at once. Above everything else she wanted to be free, to lose herself in the flow of magic and never have to worry again. She needed focus. She needed direction.

She turned to the window and remembered a dream she’d had once, a long time ago. Something terrible was coming after her, and she’d had to run... she remembered a spell a Prince taught her for just such an occasion.

Sparks flew from her horn and struck the ground, drawing a pattern in the stone that sizzled and melted wherever she stepped.

She saw Celestia’s eyes widen. “No, wait! Twilight, don’t go!”

The teleportation sigil completed itself just as Celestia flew forward, heedless of the magical tempest that scored long burning lines on her body. Twilight saw Luna appear in front of her, horn burning bright, and Celestia broke the sigil’s circle. Twilight saw her face contorted in an expression of anguish and desperation right before everything faded to white and she was taken far, far away.

She woke up near Ponyville.

----------------

When Dusk could see again, he couldn’t tell where he was at first. The sky overhead was slate grey and tumultuous with strange shapes and patterns in place of clouds, swirling like oil in water. The matte surface stretched over every horizon, smudging the line where earth and sky met. Dusk felt sick and strange, like the feeling he had when he ran a fever. He couldn’t see properly in the strange half light, and the very ground beneath his hooves was uncertain.

Color was nonexistent. The grass, the flowers, the road, even his own coat was a dull, washed out grey. The trees were black, almost flat against the monochrome sky, their leaves more like eerie blankets than thick, healthy foliage.

Dusk took a sniff of the air and smelled nothing.

“Where are we?” Bubble asked in an awed whisper.

Dusk looked around and saw a sign. One mile to Ponyville.

“Home,” he said. His voice was hollow and cracked. He didn’t know why, but he almost burst out laughing. Of course they’d end up right outside home. Of course it would be the first thing they saw. Probably just what the Nightmare intended.

Solaris is dead.

Not far off was their town, smothered by the same dark shadows that covered everything in sight. The dull greys and sharp blacks and whites of the town mocked everything that it had once been. No sound reached them save for the low whistle of a constantly blowing wind.

Rainbow said what they were all thinking. “Where are all the ponies?”

Solaris is dead.

In silence, they walked under the tumultuous grey sky. It was light enough that it seemed like the Sun should have risen, or at the very least something should be in the sky that explained how they could see. But everything seemed to provide its own light, lit in perfectly even shades and casting long shadows at random angles.

“Nothing looks right,” Dusk muttered, and looked down at the ground. The grass was brittle and cracked like glass under his hooves. “Guys, we should go. We should go to Canterlot. That’s where the Elements are kept. Maybe... maybe me or Elusive can open the door, and—”

“Dusk,” Applejack hissed through gritted teeth, his face shadowed by his Stetson. “That’s Ponyville right there. That’s home. Silent as the grave an’ just as empty. I’m not goin’ nowhere until we know what happened.”

Dusk felt a spike of rage he didn’t know he was capable of. “You heard what Solaris said!” he snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. “Get the Elements! Make them work! They’re all we have to go on and the longer we wait the more time the Nightmare has to...” He waved a hoof at the desolate landscape. “Has to...”

Do what? What did happen here?

He let his hoof drop. That one outburst threatened to break open everything piling up in his mind. Everything the Nightmare said, everything he saw in the castle, and the creeping horror of this lifeless diorama of the Equestria he remembered all pressed against the thin veneer of command he still had in front of his friends. He looked over the remains of Ponyville with a trembling lip, wiping burning tears out of his eyes.

“We can’t stop. We shouldn’t stop. We gotta go,” he muttered miserably.

Solaris is dead.

For a long time there was nothing but the wind.

“Muh family’s around here somewhere,” Applejack said at last, and Dusk let out a sigh that was more a defeated yelp as he sank to his knees. Elusive pawed fitfully at the ground, biting his lip as he looked at the distant tip of Carousel Boutique.

“I hope my animals are okay,” Butterscotch mumbled, sounding guilty for even speaking. Rainbow and Bubble said nothing, just staring ahead with blank, despondent gazes. Bubble was mumbling something under his breath, and Dusk caught the words ‘cake’ and ‘party,’ and knew he had lost.

“We’ll find them,” he whispered, and knew he was lying to everypony. “And the Elements. The Elements will fix this. They will.”

Rainbow took a sharp breath. “They didn’t work, Dusk—”

“Buck not working!” Dusk snapped back. “If we’re gonna go in, then we go.” He left the ‘don’t blame me for what we find’ he was going to add unspoken as he trudged on.

Ponyville’s streets were empty, save for the lonely wind that brushed at their manes. There was the smell of burning embers on the air. Ashes blew into their faces during an especially strong gust. Not a single pony could be seen.

“No sign of a fire,” Applejack muttered, letting the ashes wash over his hoof. “Buildings are untouched. Trees too. So where...”

“Don’t think about it,” Dusk said in an empty whisper. “We just... we just need to find everypony. They’re here, somewhere. They’re here.”

He shuffled more than walked into Ponyville.

They wandered empty streets, knocked on doors that didn’t answer, and peeked in lightless windows. They called out into air that answered only with chilling wind, and got ash caught in their throats when they did. It swirled around them all over town, and the more of it Dusk saw the more icy and nauseous his stomach became. Malicious thoughts floated through his brain like cold little knives, tearing him up and laughing like the Nightmare as they did.

Don’t do that to yourself, Dusk. It can’t really be true. This can’t all be so fragile. So unreal. The Nightmare was lying.

But the ash kept blowing where ponies used to walk, and Dusk simply shut down every thought as they went further in, focused purely on finding something familiar and whole. Something with color. Soon they came to the Ponyville Library, still standing tall and quiet yet just as devoid of color as the rest of town. Dusk didn’t remember meaning to come here, but the aching hope that welled up in his chest made him wish he hadn’t.

Hope needs a little tenderizing before it can be crushed.

He stared up at the Library door like it was the gate of Tartarus, and started to shake. He wagged his head back and forth, faster and faster until his mane whipped over his face.

“No,” he said, walking up to the door and putting his hoof on it. “No.”

Couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. Mustn’t. Nothing in there that I need to see. Not going to. Won’t give it the satisfaction.

Butterscotch cleared his throat. “Spines might be—”

“No.” Dusk sat down on the welcome mat and put his head on his hooves. “Nope.”

Applejack looked into another gust of ashes and spat on the ground. “Buck this!” he shouted. “I’m goin’ to Sweet Apple Acres. They need me more’n the blasted Elements do!”

Dusk leaped to his hooves. “Applejack, that’s not a good idea.”

Applejack whirled on him. “Not a good idea?! How about chasin’ after a dream an’ gettin’ everypony killed, huh?! If we’re talkin’ about bad ideas I’d say that ranks pretty darn high!”

“I didn’t do this!” Dusk snapped. “The Nightmare is reponsible for all of this, Applejack! I know you’re angry. I know you’re upset! You think I’m not?! I just watched a pony who meant more to me than anything get torn apart from the inside out!”

“Don’t tell me how I oughta be feelin’ right now, Dusk! You don’t know nothin’! If it weren’t for you an’ that stupid dream of yours, none of this would’ve happened!”

The others watched out of the corners of Dusk’s eyes, uncertain, afraid.

“If you shut up and listen for one second, you’d know that the Elements are our last chance! We can fix all this if you just come with us right now!”

Dusk barely noticed as Bubble wandered off on his own, mumbling about cake.

Applejack’s orange face was red from all the shouting. Apple red, really. Ha ha.

“No!” the farmpony shouted. “This is all your fault! I wanted ta’ say somethin’ earlier, but I trusted you, Dusk! An’ now I see what a mistake that was!”

“I didn’t do any of this!” Dusk shrieked at the top of his lungs, eyes closed from the sheer force of his shout. Before he could stop himself, a zap of magical energy shot from his horn and struck Applejack dead in the chest, making him stagger back. Dusk recoiled.

“Applejack,” he whimpered as he saw the farmpony go down, wheezing as he clutched his chest. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean...”

An orange hoof flew through the air faster than he could react. The side of Dusk’s face suddenly flared up in pain before going numb and prickly. Then came the ground.

Applejack seethed over him. “I’m through listenin’ ta’ the colt who brought all this here.” He turned to the others who looked at him in varying degrees of anger, shock, and fear. “Our world ain’t a lie, you hear?!” Applejack raged, flinging his words at everypony and nopony. “It just ain’t! This isn’t happenin’! No Nightmare could touch the whole world like this with a flick of their tail! It just doesn’t happen! I’ll prove it! I’ll find my family, an’ then we’ll fix all this an’ everything will go right back to normal!”

Elusive sounded on the verge of tears. “Applejack-”

“EVERYTHING!” Applejack raged, breathing so hard he couldn’t talk straight. “Everything will... everything...”

Dusk heard hooves take off at a gallop, Rainbow try half-heartedly to stop him.

Then came the wind. Nopony dared move for a long time. Dusk stayed on the ground.

Elusive broke first, rushing off towards his shop while screaming Silver Bell’s name at the top of his lungs. Butterscotch went next, mumbling about wanting to see his animals, needing to make sure.

Then came Rainbow’s rough hooves yanking him up, and his magenta eyes filling Dusk’s vision. 

“Well?” Rainbow asked.

Dusk’s gaze dropped.

Rainbow shook him viciously. “Everypony’s gone, Dusk! Our friends are splitting! What’s really happening here? How did the Nightmare do this?! Say something!” 

Dusk shook his head. “Elements,” he mumbled. “Solaris is dead. No Sun, no Moon, no sky. No Ponyville. Elements, Rainbow. We have to get the Elements.”

“And that’ll fix everything,” Rainbow almost growled, “right? Doesn’t matter what the Nightmare did, the Elements will beat him again, right?”

Dusk shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled. “I thought finding her would fix everything, Rainbow. I really did. She and everypony else. Maybe we can get their Elements, I don’t know. She was the reason this happened and the reason I’m still alive, you know.” He sighed. “If I save her, maybe I can save everypony.” Rainbow threw him away and yelled at the not-sky.

“She? She? Everypony’s probably dead and you can’t stop thinking about your dream mare?! You... you idiot! You stupid selfish moron! We don’t have any answers about her, so forget about them! Equestria is dying right now! We need a plan! Is it the Elements or not?”

Dusk nodded. Then he shook his head. “Er, no. Yes. It’s the Elements or not.”

Rainbow stared at him for a while.

Off in the distance they heard Elusive scream. A wordless sound of pain coming to them on the wind, trailing off, and rising again.

“I’m going to see if anypony’s still here,” Rainbow muttered. “Round up the guys again. I can cover ground better than anypony.”

Another cry from Elusive, high and unsteady.

“And Lucy sounds like he needs a minute,” Rainbow added lamely.

Dusk nodded. Rainbow took off into the sky, but he stopped before going too far and waved his hooves in front of his face, as if he couldn’t trust what he was seeing. Then he zipped off behind the short skyline and was gone.

Dusk leaned against the library door and pressed his ear against the wood, but he knew he wouldn’t hear anything inside.

In the meantime, he just listened to the wind mingling with Elusive’s inconsolable wailing.

In time, Rainbow came back first.

“Nopony,” he gasped. “There’s nopony anywhere. The sky’s all wrong up there, it’s like... like it’s right in front of me but I can’t get to it! No matter how fast I went I couldn’t go anywhere too far from Ponyville.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dusk.

“I mean there’s these weird borders or something all over the place! Spots where, I dunno, space and junk just doesn’t work right! Hayseeds, Dusk, I can’t even see the ground in places! I can’t see Equestria!”

“It’s dark,” said Dusk.

“No,” said Rainbow, “it’s not there.”

Elusive had gone quiet. Rainbow zipped down Ponyville’s main boulevard and brought him back, disheveled and puffy-eyed, a Cutie Mark Crusader cloak lying limp over his back. Next came Butterscotch, and Dusk took heart when he saw the yellow pegasus flying alongside Rainbow under his own power, but the haunted look in his eyes and the way he never once met the gaze of the others put a damper on his hope.

“And the others?” Dusk asked. “Applejack? Bubble Berry?”

Rainbow shook his head. “I looked everywhere, Dusk. Sugarcube Corner, all the old hangouts, Sweet Apple Acres...” He hung his head and shivered. “Dusk, the trees there are all bare. I couldn’t find Applejack or Bubble. Town’s silent as the... uh. I couldn’t find them.”

Elusive scratched at the ground. “Did you find any other-”

“No more than what you did, Lucy,” Rainbow stared stiffly ahead. “No more than what you did.”

Dusk watched another gust of ash blow by. “We can’t make the Elements work without them,” he muttered. “But even if we don’t find them we have to try.”

“Shouldn’t we at least try to find them before we go?” Butterscotch whispered. He wasn’t crying, but somehow that worried Dusk more than anything else. “We should try to find them I think. Just one last look.”

“On the way,” Dusk agreed. “We’ll head for the train station. If the trains still work, that’s our best bet to get to Canterlot quickly.”

None of them disagreed, but none of them were in a state to disagree. Dusk tried to be upset now, tried to be awestruck and fearful or even just plain sad that six friends were now only four in the space of a few hours—or was it even that long? How long had it been since the stars and sun stopped lighting the sky?—but he found nothing but a dull, listless emptiness, a numbness of the spirit. A terrible resignation like an apple just waiting to fall and rot on the ground below or a pony waiting for their death.

Harmony had died in the time it took him to blink, the moment the Nightmare declared their entire world a lie and set about cracking its foundations to pieces.

He wondered about that, about the implications as they wandered the streets of a dead Ponyville, beelining for the train station. Was his dream mare responsible, or just a victim like him? Was this all a dream of hers, a story she concocted to make herself feel better? Was any of this really worth doing since none of it was real?

But if it wasn’t real, why did it all hurt so much?

He had heard the Nightmare’s words. He saw the effects of the Nightmare’s rewriting of his world. But he still couldn’t quite believe it. Something was missing, or actively being hidden from him. The answers had to lie with the Elements. With her.

He remembered her face, wracked with corruption and twisted by sorrow. She was the only thing he could think of that made him feel alive anymore.

I haven’t given up on you, he thought, staring up at the vast, alien sky. I hope you don’t give up on me either.

His thoughts consumed him on the long walk to the train station, so it surprised him when the back of his head suddenly exploded with pain and stars burst in the back of his eyes. It surprised him even more when his legs simply gave out and he collapsed to the ground, finding his face in the dirt for the second time that day.

--------

When Dusk woke up, he found his limbs still slack and unresponsive. And his head hurt something awful. Not like it did when his horn acted up, but the way it did when he fell or bumped it against a hard surface. He tried to move and found his limbs not just limp but restrained. His eyes slowly came into focus, and then they started hurting when the light hit them.

Light?

It was everywhere, shining down at him, almost loud in its brightness. Dozens of light bulbs and candles and even a few nightlights lit up the small square room he found himself in, illuminating an almost grotesquely saccharine menagerie of puppets, dolls, and stuffed animals. They lined the room and crowded the dressers, peered up at him from the table stretched out in front of him. Teddy bears and ducks and tigers, even a sack of flour with a face painted on, grinning and smiling and pouting from all angles, daring him to have a single unhappy thought. All of them wore party hats. Cakes and danishes and flans and every sweet pastry dish imaginable filled up the spaces the animals and random objects didn’t, making for an eyesore of bright colors and festive decorations.

And on one nearby stool, there was a little pile of ash with a party hat laying on top.

Elusive, Rainbow Blitz and Butterscotch were all similarly trussed up, evenly spaced down the length of the table. They hadn’t awoken yet. Dusk saw an ugly blotch of dry, pasty black running down the side of Rainbow’s face.

That’s blood. Sweet Solaris above, that’s blood.

A bright, smiling pink face filled his vision.

“Hi, Dusk!” squeaked Bubble. Dusk recoiled with a shout. Bubble’s mane was flat, and his eyes were red and puffy from crying. He was still crying even now. The tears ran endlessly in fat rivers down his dimpled cheeks, leaking into his creaky, wobbling grin.

“Bubble,” Dusk muttered thickly. His tongue felt like a cotton wad. “What... what’s going on?”

“That’s obvious, silly!” Bubble said, and giggled so hard his whole body tremored. He leaned in close enough that Dusk saw the glare of a dozen lightbulbs reflected in his teeth.

“We’re going to have a party!”

Dusk sputtered. “A party?”

“Yep! A super duper fun party where everypony’s invited! I sent out so many invitations but nopony showed up! Even you guys looked like you were leaving town and we couldn’t have that, could we? Not when there’s such a fun party to go to!” Bubble twitched violently. “I’m glad I got you to come, unlike those other meany-head ponies. It’s like they’re trying to avoid us or something!” He hopped away and put a shaking hoof over the pile of ash wearing the party hat, patting the empty air. “Gummy’s still here, though. She’s just tired from all the partying we’ve been doing recently.”

Nausea crept through Dusk's gut. “Bubble, listen to me. We don’t have time for a party. The Nightmare could catch up any second! We have to get out of here and get to Canterlot! The Elements are the only thing left we can use!”

“What’s that?” Bubble asked, his eye twitching. “You want some cake? It took me all night to make these!”

Dusk saw one of the cakes crumble when Bubble touched it. “Bubble, listen to me! We can’t have a party now! We have to fix everything!”

“That’s silly, Dusk!” chirped Bubble, pouring tea for a still unconscious Rainbow Blitz. “There’s nothing to fix! Everything’s fine here in Ponyville! Totally fine! Except I noticed something strange today. When I was walking through Ponyville this afternoon, not a single pony was laughing or smiling or even putting a little spring in their step. I tried my hardest, I really did. I sang and told jokes and then I just sort of sat down and laughed as hard as I could, hoping somepony would join in. But they were all just sort of dull and washed out and really weren’t paying attention to me at all. They just... just sort of sat there, like little lumps on a log. Like Gummy is now.” He glanced at the pile of ash. “It really bummed me out, Dusk.” He looked back at Dusk, letting the tea overflow out of Rainbow’s cup and onto the table mat. “It really, really did.”

Dusk gulped. “I... I can see that, Bubble. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this—”

“You know what’s funny, Dusk?” Bubble asked, his voice wavering. “I had a nightmare like this once. Way back when I was still on the rock farm. The day I got my cutie mark in fact, so it was more like a daymare!”

He slammed the teapot down so hard it shattered. Elusive stirred and began to come to, looking blearily around as Bubble advanced on Dusk. “The day I got my cutie mark was the day I got biggest fear too! It didn’t come true that day. But it stuck with me just like my cutie mark! You know what that fear is, Dusk?”

Dusk shook his head, praying that his friends woke up. Maybe they could talk some sense into him. “No, Bubble, I don’t.”

Bubble spread his hooves happily, throwing confetti all around. “I was scared my parents wouldn’t smile! When they walked through that door and looked around at all my decorations, I knew what happened next would define me forever and ever and ever and ever and ever! And when it looked like they wouldn’t smile, a big old chunk of ice fell right into my stomach, and I was sicker than I ever had been before or since. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. They all smiled, and laughed, and everything was alright.”

Bubble shook violently again. His voice dropped to a pathetic whisper. “Everything’s alright, isn’t it Dusk? Isn’t it? I have a big party and everypony’s here—except Applejack, but he’s just busy bucking—and now we all get to have fun and you get to smile you have to smile, Dusk!”

Bubble’s wretched, tear-filled eyes stared up into Dusk’s, and deep behind them Dusk saw the leering, grinning face of the Nightmare. Dusk’s teeth ground together as his eyes cast around the room for something, anything to help him escape. Elusive finally found his senses and stirred in his bonds.

“I... what? What’s this? Bubble Berry, what’s happening? Dusk?”

Bubble ignored him as he got closer to Dusk.

“Dusk? Buddy? Come on, smile for me, will you? All Bubble needs is a smile, smile, smile! Fills my heart up with sunshine sunshine!” His lower lip began to tremble. “Please? Dusk? Just one little smile.”

Dusk shook his head. “Bubble, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I let this happen. The Nightmare’s done something to us, to you! You have to fight it now, Bubble! Even when things were bleakest you were always trying to make us smile! You were always giving us hope!”

Bubble shrugged and looked away again. “I couldn’t find anypony Dusk. Not even the little twins. Little Pound and Pumpkin. They always laughed in their sleep, you know? Every time I went to bed, I’d hear one of them giggle or snort or say my name.”

Dusk winced and squeezed his eyes shut. Now, at last, his own tears were on the verge of flowing. “Bubble, I’m sorry—”

“But there was nothing today! I peeked inside their room and they weren’t making a sound. They didn’t even like their little rubber chicken anymore.” Bubble smiled and wiped his eyes, but the tears kept coming. “But that’s okay,” he gasped, “it’s okay. It’s all okay now, because we’re here. All my friends. You guys will never leave me. You proved that, a long time ago. You remember? When I freaked out about my birthday and you guys were there to snap me out of it?”

Dusk’s eyes shot open, and at last some tears began to fall. “Yes!” he said with a smile. A spark of impossible, zealous hope started to bloom in his chest. “Yes, Bubble! I remember! I remember that! Elusive, you remember, right?”

Elusive, still lost and confused and aching over his own losses, could only shrug helplessly. Dusk nodded fervently. “Yes! Bubble, you have to remember that too! You-You remember how happy it made you? How happy and wonderful things were that day?”

Bubble smiled back, clasping his hooves over his chest. “Oh, there’s a smile! Thanks, Dusk! Yeah, I remember how happy it made me!” He walked over to a stuffed tiger and patted its head. “But then I look outside,” he whispered, staring at one of the windows, which had been boarded over. His voice suddenly dropped to a dull, level monotone. “I look outside and there’s no color or happiness or smiles out there, Dusk, nowhere at all. Not even my Bubble Sense can tell me where there’s a single smile or pony or anything happening apart from us. Applejack’s already gone, I can feel it. He’s not coming back. Not coming here, where everything is well-lit and smiles and color. Well, it’s colorful if you squint really hard, but I guess we can do without. As long as we’re all together, Dusk, everything is fine. You taught me that. So I decided the only way things will stay good is if we’re together. And we’re going to be together, Dusk. Happy and partying and smiling.”

Dusk felt the hope in his chest vanish in a puff of smoke as Bubble turned back with a dull, listless expression on his face, tears still springing angrily from the corners of his eyes. 

“Keep smiling, Dusk,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’ll make me sad if you stop smiling.”

> Between The Lines
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle came down the path leading to Everfree Forest like a slowly rolling boulder: implacable, unstoppable, and uncaring of what was in front of it. The sign that pointed to her home sizzled away to dust as her magical power radiated off her and obliterated it and any other random object in front of her: butterflies were vaporized and grass caught alight, fences and rocks somehow melted without heat. She entered Ponyville without a second thought to the ponies living there, or even what they might be doing. They simply had to acknowledge her and get out of the way or suffer the consequences. Her thoughts were above and beyond them, high in the clouds and deep beneath the earth as Magic’s power overwhelmed rational thought and replaced it with a keen awareness of the currents of energy that coursed around her. The ponies of Ponyville were little more than tiny glimmering lights adrift on ribbons of vast, unending power, too small to think about or even consider.

Twilight looked left and right, her eyes swinging like searchlights as they glowed with a fearsome power, watching ponies run and hide and peer at her from around street corners. Paint liquified and slithered off of doors and walls, coiling in the air around her. Windows shattered or burst into a million flying droplets that buzzed like insects. Fruit spontaneously turned into fruit bats. Most of it just burst into flame as she walked past, her broken horn lashing out at whatever was close until the ponies decided they’d had enough and ran, most of them screaming, but she didn’t hear nor did she care.

Let them run. I don’t need them anyway.

She looked up past the spire of Carousel Boutique and saw the distant towers of Canterlot, hazy and indistinct on the horizon. Her magic pushed forward, crossing miles in seconds and looking deep into the stone-walled vaults to behold a great power that outshone every other pony in the city, even the greatest of unicorns.

The real Elements, not the fakes that wore her friends’ skins, called to her. They wanted her to come and unite them. Then she knew she would be invincible. A little voice in her head whispered the great things she would do when the Elements were united again, and how nopony was going to stop her. She would tear open the veil between the worlds and be so powerful that nopony, not even the Nightmare in her head, would ever tell her what she could and could not do again.

She took another step into town, and Lily’s flowers spontaneously grew until their roots and stems completely covered their stand. She took another step and Davenport’s sign burst into flames, along with most of his inventory. Another step and she found herself crossing a bridge that came to life, its wooden rails transforming into wooden snakes that slithered into the stream below as the boards turned to dirt and sprouted flowers.

Across the bridge, right under a tree, she found Pinkie Pie. She had a polka dot picnic blanket spread under the shade, with a variety of cakes and other food set out on plates next to her. Five empty plates were arranged around the blanket with name cards sitting on each: Twilight saw her name directly across from Pinkie’s spot.

“What are you doing here?” Twilight spat. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Pinkie smiled as she set out a vase full of flowers, perking up a few drooping petals. “Oh, hi Twilight! I was wondering when you’d make it for the picnic. Didn’t you get my invitation? I sent it on a paper airplane in a glass jar!”

Twilight stared dully as Pinkie reached behind her ear and pulled a paper airplane from behind her ear.

“Oh well, good thing I got spares! Now go ahead and read it! Reading the invitations is part of the fun of a party, after all.”

Pinkie flicked her hoof and sent the paper airplane barreling towards Twilight. It struck the sphere of magical power around the unicorn and disintegrated into a hundred paper cranes which all burst into flame like fireworks. Pinkie oooh’d appreciatively.

“Wow, Twilight! That was way cooler than my idea! I was just gonna have it spray confetti and sing a song for you, but I guess that routine is getting kinda tired. But you know what they say: If it ain’t broke, don’t break it!”

“Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said as a tendril of magical energy lashed out and destroyed a nearby lamppost, “what are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, silly?” Pinkie giggled, cavorting around the picnic spread. “I’m throwing you a party!”

“I don’t need a party. I need the Elements.”

Pinkie stopped bouncing and tilted her head, looking indignant. “Twilight, did you bonk your noggin or something? We got two Elements right here! Laughter”—She pointed to herself and giggled again, loudly—“and Magic!” She pointed at Twilight. “But you’re kinda going overboard with that whole Magic thing right now. I don’t know what Magic’s trying to prove, anyway. It’s not like you’re underrepresented!”

“NO!” Twilight shouted, and her sphere expanded, creating a growing, perfectly proportioned crater around her hooves. “I mean how are you here? I teleported across the entire Everfree Forest in the blink of an eye! You can’t be here!”

Pinkie sighed and looked over one hoof, pulling a file out of her mane and scraping it over the edge. “Funny thing about friendship: true friends never really escape it. We’re a circle of friends, Twi. You don’t get out of a circle. You just go around and around, and you might get all the way to the opposite side of us, but eventually you come rolling back again.” She smiled a very sad, very warm smile. “There’s something really nice about that thought, isn’t there?”

Twilight pondered wiping that ambivalent, smarmy look off Pinkie’s face. Literally, in fact: the sight of Pinkie rolling around without a mouth would be vaguely amusing before she moved on. “I escaped Celestia. I don’t know how you got here, but I’ll escape you, too. I don’t need you, Pinkie. I don’t need any of you.”

“Maybe.” Pinkie threw the file over her shoulder and spread her hooves, gesturing to the picnic. “But right now, this party needs you!”

Twilight inclined her head just slightly, staring at the food. “There is no time for parties,” she said.

“There’s always time for a party! Especially when one of my friends is feeling so low that she mistakes a ‘get better Twilight’ party for a ‘I’m going to destroy the world’ party. Those never turn out well.”

“Destroy the world?” Twilight muttered, confused. She wasn’t going to destroy anything; just correct all the wrongs that had been heaped on her so far. “I’m going to save it. I will... I’ll take care of the Nightmare inside of me and then I’ll fix my horn, and...”

She stopped, unable to focus her thoughts on any one goal. Pinkie wagged a hoof at her. “Ah ah ah, Twilight! That’s not how you were talking before. I think you’re a little confused on what you really want. I don’t remember hearing about any Nightmare, but if there is one then that makes this a super serious party that just has to happen. So why don’t you just sit down and tell your Auntie Pinkie Pie all about it!”

Twilight scoffed and began to walk, turning away from the picnic. Pinkie bounded after her, careful to stay out of range of the tempestuous magical storm surrounding Twilight. 

“Hey, whoa, wait up Twi! I was gonna tell you a joke! What did the pink pony say to the embodiment of magical destruction?”

Twilight stopped and turned to look Pinkie in the eye, saying nothing. Pinkie’s big blue eyes got very large as she leaned as close as she could to her friend without being atomized.

“She said ‘I love you Twilight, and I know that whatever’s left of you in there is strong enough to fight whatever this is.’”

------------

“What did you say?” Twilight asked. Nightmare Moon turned her sharp gaze back to Twilight from the typewriter.

“Nothing,” she said, “nothing at all. You should be thinking, Twilight.”

Twilight sighed. “I have. I’m thinking about what all my friends really think of me.”

“You know what they think,” Nightmare purred. “They think what the Elements want them to think. What, ultimately, Celestia has told you all to think. Do you really believe that Dusk Shine’s world, that little dream realm you insist on clinging to, is the only world that can be filed, rearranged, pushed, and manipulated? You must have realized by now what Celestia has done to you.”

“Pulled my strings since the day I hatched Spike,” Twilight sniffled. She heard the Nightmare chuckle to herself, but at this point she couldn’t bring herself to care if she was saying what the creature wanted. It was what she felt to be true. “She saw I had the same kind of power that Morningtide did. And she couldn’t take the same risk. So she brought me under her wing, pointed me down the path she wanted me to go, and I walked it freely.”

“Freely going down the only path you have available is no more free than a rat in a maze,” Nightmare hissed. “Celestia is obsessed with control! She seized the Sun for herself and relegated her sister to the lesser role. You know what the Moon does, Twilight! You know the only reason it shines at night!”

“Because it reflects the light of the Sun,” Twilight whispered, the words feeling like razor blades in her throat.

“Yes,” Nightmare purred happily. “And she sought to control her sister thusly. She refused to give her an equal share of the day and shrugged off her concerns about the night. And when Celestia’s guilt overwhelmed her she let a poor stallion almost get killed when he built a bridge to the sea of grief Luna suffered in.”

“Because of you,” Twilight said, but she flinched as she said it. She was suffering because of Celestia now, too.

Nightmare leapt to her hooves. “I was no less a part of Luna than she was of me! I did not take her for myself! She became me, Twilight Sparkle! And I came to you only because now you know what Luna did and forgot when the Elements purged her mind: that Celestia does what she does purely for her own benefit. She sent you to Ponyville knowing that I would come, knowing that I would clash with you. She knew you would find the Elements, knew that your story was true, but what did she do? Lie to you. She built you and your friendships behind a grinning wall of deception.”

“I... I don’t know,” Twilight whispered, curling into a ball. “I just don’t know what to think anymore. I was young and silly and... they helped me, didn’t they? My friends?”

“Friends that Celestia gave you,” Nightmare cooed, reaching through the cage and stroking Twilight’s mane. Though her touch was ice-cold and hardly a balm for her emotional turmoil, Twilight couldn’t find it in herself to recoil from it, and that scared her more than anything else had so far. “Friends that follow her will. They will try to stop you, Twilight, stop you from becoming what you were always meant to be: the greatest power that Equestria has ever seen.”

“I never wanted power,” Twilight moaned. “I just wanted to be with my friends.”

“And Celestia has thrust this power on you regardless,” Nightmare said, tutting as she shushed Twilight’s hiccuping whimpers. “She sensed a great change coming with you, Twilight. And the very first thing she thought when she saw you was: ‘How can I bend this change to my purpose?’”

Twilight’s heart fluttered and she began to cry again, shaking her head.

“You know it’s true,” Nightmare said, with an iron-like undertone beneath her velvet, motherly concern.

“Just leave me alone,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore and I don’t want to.” 

Nightmare chuckled and pulled away. “I can see you still doubt me,” she murmured. “You doubt everything right now. That is to be expected. Perhaps it will help if you continued this conversation... in private. There are far too many distractions up here.”

A sudden feeling of openness, of vulnerability and sweeping melancholy, made Twilight gasp and lift her head. All around her was a great, all-consuming blackness. She was no longer in a cage, but she felt no less trapped and helpless. She turned around slowly, trying to make out points of reference.

“Wait!” she called out, amazed that she suddenly found herself missing Nightmare’s company, when a noise distracted her. It was like a shutter suddenly opening or a door banging. She swung around and saw a spot of light appear on the ground, shining down from some indeterminate point above. More spots of light began to follow with the same loud noise accompanying each, dotting the ground at random points and coming towards her rapidly.

The last one to appear illuminated another Twilight Sparkle, staring angrily at Twilight almost nose-to-nose distance.

“Gah!” she squealed, falling over her own tail as she scooted backwards.

“Hi there,” her double said to her. “You and I have a lot to talk about.”

-------------

Pinkie stood still, waiting. Twilight stared balefully back.

“Twilight?” she asked hopefully.

“You know nothing!” Twilight shouted back, a wall of flames appearing between them so suddenly that Pinkie hopped three feet straight up in the air. “You’re an annoyance! A hanger-on! It’s all you ever were! Every time I looked you in the eyes I couldn’t believe how your mind even worked! Look at you! I’m going to find the Elements and all you can do is get together a picnic?! Where did all this even come from?”

Pinkie just smiled and waved off Twilight’s question, calmly filling a bucket she brought out of nowhere into the nearby stream and extinguishing the flames, even if she couldn’t do anything about the blue jay that suddenly turned into a hawk nearby. “Now Twilight, you know that would be telling. I can see that you’re a little upset! And I’m willing to bet that you’re not quite yourself right now. In fact, I’d stake my tail that I’m not even talking to the really real, Twilightlicious Sparkle and you’re somewhere in there trying to sort all this out!”

She pulled a kazoo out of the bucket and blew on it, sending spittle flying. “Hello! Twilight Sparkle in there? Can she come out to play?”

“Stop that!” Twilight barked, grabbing the kazoo and crushing it with her magic, which suddenly wrapped around Pinkie Pie and lifted her into the air, spreading her legs apart until she hovered completely helpless in front of Twilight. “Do you have any idea what’s going on, what I’m really trying to do? Celestia betrayed me! She betrayed all of us! Lies and secrets and evil that she kept from us because she didn’t think I could handle it! After all I did for her, she didn’t trust me! And now... now I look at you and all I can wonder about is whether or not you’re with her or me.”

“I’m with my friends!” Pinkie protested, struggling in Twilight’s magical grip. “You gotta believe that, Twilight! You’re not going to convince me that you suddenly went all magic-crazy and you want to be the biggest meany-pants that ever lived! Twilight doesn’t do that!”

“I’m not Twilight!” the unicorn shouted back. “Not anymore! I’m more than she ever was! And you! You’re getting in my way just like Celestia! I will find the Elements, I will tear open the veil, and I will... I will...”

She pawed at the ground, snorting as she turned back to Canterlot, straining to reach the wonderful power she felt there. It was the only thing left that seemed to matter anymore.

Pinkie shook her head, and Twilight hated the way that sad blue gaze looked just like Celestia’s. “Twi, I know you’re hurting and confused. I know something’s really wrong with you deep down, and now your hurt and your pain is taking over and trying anything to make it all go away.” She smiled again, tilting her head. “But I know you’re stronger than this. You know how to put trust in other ponies; something’s just making you forget that now. You’re not gonna convince me that you’re just a sadsack mean little pony now. My Twilight doesn’t do that. My Twilight remembers how we used to laugh together and how she was tough enough for me to lean on when things got weird or sad! My Twilight reminded me not just to feel happy, but to remember why I felt happy! To look around and see all the ponies around me that wanted me there and to make me smile just because we were friends. My Twilight would smile whenever she looked at me, because that’s just who she is. But you say you’re not Twilight anymore.” She took a deep breath and settled down, closing her eyes. “And if that’s true, then you might as well just turn me into a newt or whatever you got in mind.”

Twilight glared up at her, holding Pinkie perfectly still. A full minute passed in silence, save for the crackling of arcane energies. Pinkie slid one eye open and looked down at Twilight, who appeared to not even be breathing. It was like she was stuck in a still frame while the rest of the world moved on around her.

“Well?” Pinkie dared. “I’m waaaiting!”

Still nothing. Pinkie grinned triumphantly. “Ah ha! I knew it! The real Twilight would never hurt her frie—”

Twilight watched passively as her magic rammed Pinkie into the ground as hard as it could. There was an audible thump and Pinkie was driven a full two inches into the dirt face-down, her limbs splayed out and her mane and tail flattened down by the telekinetic grip.

“Be quiet,” Twilight growled, and marched past her.

Pinkie’s face popped up from the dirt, slightly ruffled and muddied, but otherwise totally unharmed. Twilight grumped about earth pony sturdiness as Pinkie hurried to catch up.

“Okay, maybe that one was a fluke,” said Pinkie, spitting out dirt, “but Twilight, we both know you could’ve done a lot worse than that. I know you still value your friends, even if you don’t want us around right now! You’re running because you’re scared and that’s okay! Everypony has days when they’re scared and alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. Whatever it takes, Twilight, I’m gonna put a smile on your face.”

Twilight stopped and turned back to Pinkie. Very slowly, a smile stretched her lips. Pinkie, who Twilight knew could recognize a genuine smile from a mile away, took a step back. It didn’t help her, though, when lightning exploded from Twilight’s horn and wrapped snake-like around Pinkie, pulling her off the ground. It spun her once and whipped her violently into the picnic spread. Pinkie bounced once off a plate of flan and kept going into the tree behind her, landing on her head with a muted thud. Twilight waited until she was certain Pinkie wasn’t getting up.

“Well, what do you know. That did put a smile on my face,” she grumbled, continuing her implacable march towards Canterlot.

Deep within the confines of her own mind, Twilight curled up and thought of Dusk Shine.

----------

Dusk Shine watched Bubble Berry prance around the table, making minute and unimportant adjustments to the positions of the stuffed animals and tea sets. There were plenty of spares to replace the one Bubble had smashed.

“Quit squirming, Rainbow!” Bubble said, patting the struggling pegasus on the head. Rainbow had been gagged with a stuffed elephant ever since his shouting and cursing had become too much to bear, and his chair shook back and forth as he struggled to free himself, tears of helpless rage streaming down his cheeks. “You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

Bubble wandered over to Butterscotch next, who just stared miserably at the far wall. “Enjoying your cake, Butterscotch?” Bubble squeaked, nudging the plate in front of Butterscotch a little closer to him. “I made it myself! It’s got your favorite frosting: good old vanilla!”

Dusk looked to Elusive, trying to make eye contact with him across the table. His horn being the only unshattered one in the room, he was the only one who might be able to free them in time to escape the Nightmare. But the white unicorn just blubbered and cried in his chair, which Bubble took to be ‘party songs.’ Whatever Elusive had found in his home had paralyzed him along with the enormity of the situation.

“Bubble Berry,” Dusk said, trying for what felt like the hundredth time to get a rational response from him. “Please, listen to me. You have to let us go.”

“More cake? Sure!” Bubble said, throwing another plate of cake Dusk’s way. It landed on top of the other three he had already given.

“No, Bubble,” Dusk said very clearly and slowly, “I mean you have to stop the party. It’s not helping.”

Bubble twitched violently. “I don’t know what you mean, Dusk! Parties always help!”

“Not this time, Bubble,” Dusk said. “Not this time. We need to work together or we’re going to—”

“SHUT UP!” Bubble screeched.

Even Rainbow’s struggling ceased. Dusk clamped his jaw shut, wondering what kind of insanity Bubble was going to pull next. The pink pony glared at him with a wide-eyed, quivering stare, the kind born only of uncontrollable, irrational rage. But then the moment passed, and with another violent shiver Bubble stretched a smile over his face. “You’re not smiling, Dusk. Are you not having fun?”

“... I am,” Dusk whispered. “I’m having fun, Bubble.”

“Good,” Bubble said flatly, and poured more tea for Butterscotch.

“Bubble,” Elusive whispered, finally breaking from his depressed reverie, “please. Let us go. Silver Bell... everypony... we have to fix this.”

“The Elements of Harmony,” Dusk muttered. “They can work. They will work. It was the last thing Solaris said—”

“Solaris is a party-pooper!” Bubble snapped, waving his hooves around. “He didn’t come to our party! Nopony did but you guys, so we’re keeping this party just between us.”

Dusk struggled not to shout again, the effort making him shiver. “Bubble, Solaris is gone. Everypony’s gone. We have to face facts.”

Bubble’s hooves started shaking as he picked up another tea pot and began pouring more tea for Rainbow; he had spilled his cup in the middle of all his struggling. “Nope,” Bubble said, shaking his head. “They’re not gone, Dusk. They’re not. I know it. I can feel it.”

Dusk’s heart wrenched in his chest, feeling like it was about to collapse. “But they are, Bubble.”

Bubble set the tea pot down very slowly, turning around to face a blank corner. He trotted over to it, sat down, and stared at the wall.

“They went away because you let the Nightmare in,” he said. “You’re the biggest party-pooper here, Dusk. You led us into that forest and you kept wanting to see your shmoopy-doopy pie or whatever that mare is to you, and then the Nightmare came and everypony’s gone.”

“Bubble,” Dusk moaned, afraid of what to say and afraid of saying nothing. “Bubble, please, maybe you’re right. Maybe everypony’s gone, but the Elements can bring them back. They can, Bubble. They will.” His head drooped onto his chest. When did he suddenly feel so very, very tired? “They have to.”

Another heavy silence cloaked the room.

“That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?” said Butterscotch.

Every head snapped up to look at the yellow pegasus, but he didn’t even flinch. “You’re afraid of not being able to make ponies happy, but you’re afraid of being alone even more. Because then there’s nopony around you can make happy. And if you can’t do that, you might as well not even exist yourself.”

Bubble’s head thumped against the wall.

“If I open that door,” Bubble whispered, “then you’ll disappear like everypony else. You’ll vanish into thin air. Pop like bubbles maybe. Pop pop pop. And then you’ll just be gone. Like Applejack.”

Thump.

“And then I’ll be all alone without any friends or smiles.”

Thump.

“If we aren’t together, we’re all gonna die without smiles on our faces, you know? I wonder if that’s how everypony else went. Big frowny-faces all washing away into nothing until there’s just a little pile of ash waiting to be blown away. And then you’re just gone.”

“We all need somepony to care for,” Butterscotch mumbled, tears beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes, “or care for us. You need somepony there to tell you you’re doing a good job. Or lean on when times are hard. Or even just be there, to let you know you’re not alone. If you’re alone you can’t tell if what you’re doing is good or bad. You can’t see another pony look up at you and say thank you.”

Bubble shrugged. Elusive cried. Rainbow grunted. Dusk said nothing.

“I wanna wake up,” Bubble whispered. “I wanna wake up right now. This is a dream, right? I just want to wake up and make it be over. I’ve pinched myself a hundred times and even snorted water up my nose. But nothing worked. I’m still here and we’re all still in Ponyville. Where everything is totally fine.”

He began to giggle again. “Just fine. He he he he. Just totally, wonderfully fine.” He stood up and turned back to the others, his head tilted queerly to one side. “You know what else you gotta do to wake up from a dream?” He began to advance on Dusk again, who leaned back in his chair.

“You gotta fall,” Bubble breathed in a manner approaching ecstasy. “You gotta drop from a cliff, and you wake up right before you hit the ground!” He lifted up onto his hind legs, reaching for Dusk, whose horn shimmered and sparked in response, but a working spell wouldn’t come. “I haven’t tried that one yet...”

“Bubble!” Elusive barked, and his horn glowed blue. Bubble lurched backwards as a sparkling mist wrapped around him and threw him into the arms of a giant teddy bear. Bubble didn’t get back up, leaning back into the plushy bear’s belly and giggling to himself, wrapping his hooves around his head.

“Party party party,” he said, his giggling growing into a worrisome, non-stop racket. Elusive’s horn glowed again, and the bindings around his legs loosened and dropped. Elusive hopped out of his chair, flexing his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he said briskly. “I would’ve come to my senses sooner, but... but I, ah...”

“It’s fine,” said Dusk over the growing sound of Bubble’s giggling, which was devolving into a high pitched whine. It hurt to hear but he ignored it, and that he was trying to ignore his dear friend hurt even more. “Just get us out of here.”

Elusive went to untie Rainbow Blitz, who glared daggers at Bubble. The pink pony just covered his face with his hooves and continued to emit that frustratingly horrible whine, like somepony on the verge of crying without ever quite getting there, hanging on the precipice. Elusive’s magic reached out to Rainbow’s bindings.

“Elusive, don’t!” Bubble begged him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t take them away, please, please!”

Elusive hesitated just a moment before a blue glow surrounded Rainbow’s ropes and pulled them away from him. Bubble let another whine and stood up on all four hooves.

“Stop it.” His voice cracked. “Stop it! Don’t leave me alone!” 

“We’re not leaving you alone, Bubble!” Rainbow said, rushing to untie Butterscotch and Dusk. “We’re going to Canterlot and you’re coming with! Right, Dusk?”

Dusk looked long at Bubble’s wildly shaking pupils, reduced to mere pinpricks. If Bubble heard anything Rainbow said, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Bubble let out a wet gurgle as he saw Dusk’s ropes fall down.

“Bubble, look, you have to understand—”

Bubble charged, letting out a wild yell, more like a child demanding their parent to give them a candy rather than the unhinged scream Dusk expected. Bubble was a blur of pink, charging across the floor directly at Dusk. Rainbow overtook him and threw him down to the floor again before Dusk could even act or think, and then pink and blue whirled around in a hyperactive swirl, hooves and snarling faces and brutal, meaty thuds. Rainbow spat curses and yelled for somepony to get a rope, damn it and Bubble just screamed random words, interspersed with incoherent pleading.

Dusk’s horn sparked and sputtered as he stared at the two ponies rolling around on the floor.

Work! Work, please, I can’t stand them fighting, just do something, do it, do it!

But no matter how hard he pushed, all he got out of his horn was pain and useless pretty sparkles that fell to the ground and rolled between the cracks in the wood, vanishing.

“Elusive!” he called out. “My magic, it isn’t working! You have to help him!”

Elusive snapped his eyes up to Dusk’s. They were wide, frightened, like a colt who couldn’t comprehend why his parents were fighting.

“Lucy!”

Elusive jerked like he’d been struck, turning back to the fight. He levitated a length of rope, but he couldn’t pick which pony to tie up first. The rope tangled and untangled itself into intricate knots while Elusive fretted.

Dusk snorted and leapt into the melee.

He felt himself latch onto somepony with flailing wings and kicking hooves and thought it was Rainbow, or maybe just both of them at once, but it didn’t matter much: he was thrown off within seconds of grabbing on and found himself tossed into a pile of stuffed animals. Tigers and bears leered down at him with condescending smiles as the ball of violence rolled his way again, smothering him. He felt somepony’s hoof catch him in the rib, on the stomach, on the shoulder. He lashed out and felt the familiar tingle of magic catch his hoof and drag, pulling him across the hardwood floor. He heard Rainbow scream something unintelligible, Bubble yelling back at him that it was all Dusk’s fault and they were nothing but party-poopers, and then Elusive joining the argument just to make them both shut up.

Dusk couldn’t tell which way was up. He wanted to stop the arguing, the swirl of voices that pounded on his ears like drums, but his vision swam and his head pounded and he frankly didn’t care much anymore what they did as long as the door was opened and he could get out. He fell onto his back and looked up at Butterscotch, whose face was stained with miserable, angry tears, his lower lip quivering as he watched the others devolve into madness.

Dusk just shrugged and covered his ears, watching Butterscotch take a deep breath, square his shoulders, and open his mouth.

“QUIET!”

The noise of Butterscotch’s yell rang for interminable seconds after. Elusive, Rainbow, and Bubble stood in a circle, warily eyeing each other. Blood flowed from a gash in Rainbow’s ear where Bubble bit him and several deep scratches inflicted by Bubble’s hooves; Bubble was shaking all over and beginning to sob openly again; Elusive just looked so incredibly tired. After nopony moved for a while, Bubble turned away and went to the biggest teddy bear in the room and draped himself over it, his grip so tight it distended and warped the bear’s entire body.

“Can’t leave,” he whispered in between heaving, gasping sobs. “Can’t leave or the wind will get you. It’ll run up behind you and whisk you away and you’ll be gone. I won’t let it happen. Won’t. Won’t. Won’t. Won’t.”

Elusive collapsed into a heap on the floor, panting, and Rainbow just stared at the space Bubble once occupied.

Elements, he thought. Elements are all that matters. Why can’t I get up? Why can’t I be there for my friends when they aren’t there for each other?

His head felt like a fog was slowly enveloping it, closing in ever since they’d stepped into town and the shock of his world ending had smashed his resolve. He tried to stand, watching Butterscotch trudge over to Berry and give him a hug from behind. The motion was frighteningly mechanical, like Butterscotch was following an instinct or playing out some ceremony he’d done a thousand times before, rather than impart any real comfort. Bubble shuddered at his touch but didn’t push him away.

It all feels so cloudy, so distant. Like a dream. Which makes sense, really.

Dusk went to the window and peered into the cold, grey world outside. The sky was still infinitely high and claustrophobically close and no colors or bright lights were anywhere and the Sun hadn’t risen and never would. He could see Everfree Forest from here, just down the street through a sliver between two buildings.

Dusk recoiled, letting out a sad, sickened moan at what he saw coming from the Forest.

“What is it?” Elusive asked.

Dusk shook his head, and that was all they needed to know.

“Well,” Rainbow said, glancing Bubble’s way, “what now?”

-------------------

“Now,” said the Other Twilight, “we talk.”

Twilight grimaced and looked away. “We don’t need to talk about anything.”

“Of course we do,” said the Other. “We’re inside our own head. There’s nopony to talk to but you.”

“You mean... me?” Twilight ventured, trying to make light of a situation she found both terrifying and confusing. The Other rolled her eyes. 

“I mean whatever you want me to mean. You, me, all of this is us. It’s all you. And I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Twilight said, curling up and turning away. The Other tried to move forward, but she bumped into a series of bars that slid up from the floor between them and shook her head. 

“Still trying to hide from the truth.”

Twilight shrugged. “I’m swimming in truth. That’s why I’m here.”

“But you won’t accept it,” the Other said and began walking but the bars followed her wherever she went, like Twilight was sitting on a rotating platform that never let the Other face her from a different direction. “You won’t let yourself really see what’s happening here.”

“I think that’s kind of obvious, don’t you?”

“No!” the Other snapped, smashing her hoof against the bars. “I mean you don’t see beyond the obvious! Do you even know what’s going on here? What caused all of this?”

“Should I?” Twilight asked. “I can’t even bring myself to care.”

“Well that’s real funny, Twilight, because I’m pretty sure I care a lot about what’s happening.”

“Who are you?” Twilight whimpered.

The Other sneered. “I’m the part of you that’s actually aware of her real place in the world. The one who realizes the power she’s capable of and is ready to use it. The world is simpler and more complex than you know.” She stood up and walked.Twilight joined her after a moment’s hesitation more out of curiosity and fear of being alone than anything else, but the bars remained between them. “You still don’t know why you even started seeing him, do you? Or why it’s important that we saw him for the Nightmare to come to us, or even why the Nightmare can do what it does?”

Twilight didn’t answer and the Other took that as permission to keep going. “Why did we see Dusk? Why are we connected to him? What is it about us that makes it so important that the Nightmare needs us to affect his world?”

Twilight sputtered. “I... you can’t just expect me to know all that!” 

“You do. Because I do. Because I’m you, Twilight,” the Other said, turning and facing her. “Up there, you’re in a cage. Inside that cage is all that’s left of you that the Nightmare hasn’t already taken. You can’t even see what’s going on outside, can you?”

Twilight shook her head and a bolt of fright ran through her. What happened to her friends? To the Princesses? The last thing she really remembered was confronting Celestia in the middle of the vision about Nightmare Moon’s uprising before it all went blank and then she was with the Nightmare itself.

“We gave up so much of ourself when we knew that Celestia couldn’t trust us,” the Other said, her voice stern but still gentle on Twilight’s ears. “Everything that you are, everything you know, came from her.”

Images began to appear around them, swirling gaseous forms that giggled and laughed and cried and spoke. They were memories, Twilight realized, memories of all the time she had spent growing up in Canterlot, ignoring her classmates in favor of studying, increasing her power at Celestia’s behest.

“But I’ve done so much!” Twilight protested. More images floated around them, memories of the times she and her friends conquered evil, both the external threats that attacked Equestria, and the little things that threatened to drive them apart.

“And you never thought it strange,” the Other said, “that the one and only time, the first time in your life that Celestia drew you out of your shell, was the exact day that her sister was fated to return?”

A letter appeared, damningly obvious in its manipulative condescension. Make some friends. Twilight looked away from it, gritting her teeth so hard they almost broke. “She knew making friends was the right thing to do,” she whispered. “The right thing for me to do.”

“But could your friends have been anypony? Or did it have to be them?” The faces of Twilight’s friends appeared in the air and vanished just as quickly. “Celestia knew, Twilight. She knew if you made any other friends, if you resisted going to Ponyville, if you didn’t do everything exactly as she planned... Equestria would fall.”

“Well then I had no choice!” Twilight shouted, whirling around with tears in her eyes. “You think I wouldn’t have done anything to keep Equestria safe? That I still wouldn’t?”

“I know you would have, Twilight. I’m you, remember? And Celestia knew, too. She knew you were perfect for what she needed. That the Elements were in Ponyville and would be your friends was the balm she used to soothe her conscience.”

“I never thought that,” Twilight whispered.

“We did,” the Other. “But I’m the one who accepted it for what it is, Twilight. The Nightmare was right about stories, about how powerful they were. The story of Nightmare Moon inspired all of this. When we sent her that letter, it was the moment that defined everything. An old pony’s tale, kicking off the start of a whole new life. Celestia crafted a perfect story about us: the shut-in little filly who had to learn the magic of friendship to beat the big evil and save the day. We were wrapped up in our own lives like a Daring Do novel! We loved being the hero, loved how we added our own little chapters to Celestia’s story with every friendship report we sent back. And every time Celestia looked on us with pride, it was pride in her accomplishments. She wrote every aspect of us since the day she found us in that tower trying to hatch Spike’s egg. We never made friends because she never really pushed us to make friends until the day it suited her own purposes!”

Another image floated around them. Twilight, a filly, struggling to unearth the underlying principles of a spell she struggled with. Celestia appeared over her shoulder.

“Twilight, I heard there is a party to be held in the southern dorms this weekend.”

“Mmhmm,” said Twilight. “I’m not going.”

“And why is that, my dear student? I hear it’s going to be a rollicking good time.”

“I have to figure out this three-point transfiguration matrix. Professor Auburn’s test is coming up in a couple of months and I want this to be perfect.”

“Oh, Twilight,” Celestia said with a gentle smile. “My dear one, I cannot force you to go. But one day you will know how fine a thing it is to have a few ponies around to keep you company.”

And that was that.

“Three years before we went to Ponyville,” the Other said. “And so many more examples besides that. Our entire life was spent like that: we would study, Celestia would chide us, we denied her, and she let us go. Token opposition, a roll of her eyes, a wry smile. We saw it back then, but we never noticed it. And then, suddenly, on the night Nightmare Moon returns, we are ordered to make friends. Friends with the only ponies in all the world who could cleanse her sister.”

Twilight dropped onto her haunches, shivering. She put her hooves over her head.

“I... Celestia had to free Luna...”

“And used us to do it,” the Other finished, “just like she used us to defeat Discord, sent you into the Crystal Empire with nothing to go on but a vague hope that you were capable. Everything we did had her signature all over it. And when she pulled away from us, she pulled away everything that she put inside of us. We were hollowed out when she couldn’t stand to be with us anymore and the Nightmare filled in the blank spaces.”

Twilight felt a pang of despair and sank onto her knees. The Other stopped next to her, staring ahead.

“But here, Twilight? Here, inside the cage, there’s a tiny part left that is simply you. A part that you can only give up to the Nightmare willingly, and that’s why it needs to break us before it can take us. Every part of Dusk’s world that dies is a little bit more of you that goes away forever.” She knelt down in front of the bars and peered through them. “But you don’t understand how that all connects, why it’s so important. You won’t let yourself. I know it, so you know it, but you won’t let me in.”

“But... but if I let down the bars, I’m going to let in the Nightmare too!” Twilight whimpered. The Other huffed and shook her head.

“Twilight, it already won. It’s going to get you no matter what happens because you’re going to let it get you. That’s the point.” She extended her hoof towards Twilight through the bars. “It’s not just any old Nightmare, Twilight. It’s not just something that came out of nowhere and attacked you when you were vulnerable. It’s not just some external force using you as a pawn to destroy the Princesses. It’s not even just Nightmare Moon coming back to take revenge. It’s something you knew all along, something that was building up to this very point and you let it out, and that’s exactly why Dusk Shine is in so much danger right now: because you put him there. There’s nowhere in this world or the next where this Nightmare won’t get you, because that's what the story its writing demands."

“Celestia—”

“Celestia lost control, she can’t protect you anymore. The Nightmare might think it’s in control, but it has to do it properly. This is your story now, Twilight. In a way, it always was. Your story isn’t over, but you’ll write yourself into a corner if you don’t let those bars down and talk to me, to yourself, to the Nightmare. To everything that’s been telling you what to do so far. You can do what Morningtide did and edit your story, that's how this all started, you know that! The Nightmare is as much a part of you and your story as it is any other pony across a hundred million stories that it’s infected, and that’s why it can’t kill you yet.”

Twilight felt her hoof be taken and raised up. The Other reached in with her other hoof and clasped Twilight’s between hers.

“Twilight, this is your Nightmare.”

---------

“It’s coming,” said Dusk. “It’s coming and it’s going to be here soon. I saw it.”

“Then let’s grab Bubble and get out of here!” Rainbow said, hurrying to grab Bubble. Bubble just gripped the teddy bear harder and shook his head.

“Wait,” said Butterscotch, “that’s not going to work—”

He was cut off by a high, thin wail that erupted from Bubble’s mouth. Rainbow let go and Bubble slumped down again.

“This is stupid!” he barked. “I’ll carry him!”

“He’ll fight you,” Butterscotch whispered, “the whole way.”

“Then I’ll knock him out!”

“No, Rainbow. This isn’t something we can beat,” Butterscotch said, digging his hoof into the floor. His eyes met Dusk’s. Dusk felt a wave of shame so great he looked away.

“I think I kind of understand what’s happening here,” Butterscotch went on. “I thought about what the Nightmare said. It went straight for Dusk out of all of us.”

Elusive and Rainbow turned their gazes to him now, and Dusk hid behind his hooves. “... He’s right,” he said, his voice tight and fearful, expecting a blow to come at any time. “The Nightmare wants me. It... it said so.”

Rainbow glanced back and forth, then shook his head. “Then we don’t let it get you. We get you out of here and get to Canterlot and get the Elements and wasn’t that our plan in the first place?”

“I don’t really know what it wants with Dusk,” Butterscotch said, “but Bubble... he’s not going to be able to help us.” He knelt down next to Bubble and stroked his mane. “Applejack’s already gone, Rainbow, and we have no idea where he is or if he’s coming back. He would have by now if he was going to. Bubble, that’s what you’re really afraid of, isn’t it? Being alone?”

A pit grew in Dusk’s stomach, making him nauseous as he realized the direction Butterscotch was going. “‘Scotch, no...”

“You all should go,” Butterscotch whispered, idly stroking Bubble’s mane. “I’ll stay with him.”

“We’re all going!” Elusive countered, but he didn’t sound convinced. Butterscotch shook his head. 

“You all heard what the Nightmare said.”

“You must suffer.” The words tumbled out of Dusk’s mouth unbidden, like some other pony was speaking through him. He narrowed his eyes and looked away, feeling the vise of guilt clamp down over his heart. “Suffer so she can suffer.”

“This is all still about her?!” Rainbow raged.

“And Dusk,” said Butterscotch. “Dusk is who the Nightmare wants. I don’t know how I know, I just feel it. This all started when we tried to find our other selves, remember? Dusk was the first one, the most connected one.”

Dusk bit his lip. “Stop—”

“And the Elements showed us our other selves and made us want to help him, and when we found her the Nightmare got in. You’re why the Nightmare is here. To get you, Dusk. Bubble can’t change that. I can’t either.”

“That’s not true!” Dusk stomped his hoof on the floor. “We need all of you to make the Elements work again!”

“Not like this,” Butterscotch whispered, laying down next to Bubble and throwing a hoof over him. “Not like this. Applejack gave up. So did Bubble. So did I. The moment I looked down and saw my home so empty, so... so horribly quiet, I couldn’t stand it. How could anything in this world be kind when a place so full of life is just snuffed out because one monster wanted them all gone? The Elements won’t work now, not in a place like this. You know that.”

“How can you say that?!” Dusk roared, bucking the wall behind him so hard it splintered. “It’s all we have left! All we can do to stop this and fix it!”

Butterscotch was silent for a time. “I don’t know what we can do, Dusk,” he said, “but I know that looking for that other you caused all of this. It was something the Elements called out to, something they wanted. Maybe she’s the one who can fix it.”

Rainbow whirled on Dusk. “Or maybe she’s the one who’ll kill us all if we keep trying to go after her! Dusk, you can’t say you believe any of this junk? The Nightmare needs to go, and we’re the only ones who can do it!”

Dusk remembered a cage, a giant white space, and the sight of her cowering, unable to do anything, unable to affect the world anymore. Giving up their dream of finally being together to a monster and letting it eat them all up.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “But we’re not leaving you behind, Butterscotch.”

“Yes you are.”

“No we’re not.”

“Dusk,” Butterscotch pleaded, turning back to him, and Dusk saw that only now was Butterscotch really crying. The look on his face was one of utter hopelessness, and Dusk backed up against the wall, trying desperately to look away but he couldn’t, and Butterscotch’s big, shimmering stare kept him riven. “It destroyed everything without even trying. I don’t even know why we’re still here and everypony I loved and saw and all my little animals are gone. And it doesn’t even care about us! It killed the Princes like they were just some motion it was going through, like—like when my otters would pick up rocks and hit things because they thought it was going to crack them open and get food!”

Dusk clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “We can still beat it,” he whispered. “We can, ‘Scotch. You have to believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Butterscotch answered, turning back to Bubble and laying his head over Bubble’s neck. “But I do know there’s a pony who can’t stand to be alone right now, and he’s too frightened to go on. I’m staying here.” He sniffled. “It’s... it’s the kind thing to do.”

“Not to us!” Rainbow snapped, and Butterscotch had no answer but to curl up tighter against Bubble who in turn hid from them all. “We need you guys right now!”

“Dusk doesn’t need any of us,” Butterscotch whimpered. “The Nightmare did all of this... all of it... to hurt him. So it could hurt her, whoever she is. The Elements would have answered us before if they could help us. Maybe they aren’t even here anymore.”

Dusk’s heart wilted in his chest. The crushing inevitability of his guilt weighed in on him and he searched for a way to support himself and just sort of slumped to the floor instead. “I just wanted to see her,” he muttered.

Answer me. Please. I need you more than anything now. I need you to help me fight. We caused this and now we have to end it. Please.

Nopony answered.

Rainbow’s body began to shake from head to hoof. He clenched his eyes shut, squeezing out hot tears that rolled down his cheeks. He quivered so much it seemed he’d explode from what he was holding it in, and let it all out in one single, cathartic outburst.

“FINE!” he yelled, and flew straight at Dusk. Dusk yelped, thinking he was about to be attacked, but he felt Rainbow snatch him up and whip him around at speed, heading for Elusive who barely had time to scream before Rainbow grabbed him too and made a turn sharp enough to give Dusk whiplash. He got a brief view of the roof before Rainbow exploded out of it, sending a shower of wood and plaster into the air. They rocketed up twenty feet or so before Rainbow jerked to a halt. Mortar and shingles still rained down as they looked back down through the hole in the roof.

Butterscotch held Bubble close, stroking his mane. Even from this height, Dusk thought he heard the soft, gossamer-thin strains of a song he knew well coming from Butterscotch.

Slowly, deliberately, and with all the gentleness that could be afforded to the sorry state of their souls, they left their friends behind. Far beyond, Everfree Forest and all the country beyond it vanished into thin air, and a boiling nothingness advanced over the landscape, cracking apart what hadn’t already been flung into oblivion and leaving behind more of the slate-grey void that coiled in and around itself interminably.

In the midst of the distant, crackling booms of the world collapsing, Dusk heard the Nightmare laugh.
> Absolution
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My Nightmare?” Twilight asked.

“Your Nightmare,” the Other repeated. “It’s trying to rewrite everything you ever thought you knew. Some of it’s true, which is why it’s been able to take over so much so quickly. This Nightmare is you as much as you are it.”

“I don’t understand,” said Twilight. “If it’s already me, then why hasn’t it stopped me from talking to you?”

“Because it won’t,” the Other said, and an inky black spot swirled around the whites of her eyes. “I am the Nightmare as much as you are. Everything in here is you, me, and the Nightmare. That little space you’re in, that tiny little cage, is all you have that the Nightmare cannot touch.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Accept it,” said the Other, “all of it. Take down your cage.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. The Nightmare can’t get you, not completely, but while you’re in there you can’t do anything either. Dusk’s world will die. Every world connected to that one will die. And while you sit in here, afraid and alone, the Nightmare will destroy everything.” The Other began to prowl around Twilight, who kept pace with her to keep the bars between them. “What you have here is a rare opportunity, Twilight Sparkle. Everything has been taken from you. When a pony loses everything, they can see it as a sign to give up and let all that’s left—their life—be taken from them too. Or they can take what remains... and write a new story from the ground up.” The Other’s eyes twinkled. “It’s what Celestia tried to do after Nightmare Moon.”

Twilight jerked her head up. The Other smirked.

“I helped her do it.”

Twilight shook her head. “But... but that’s impossible. You said you’re me. You can’t know what Celestia did or how, much less helped her!”

The Other shrugged. “That’s true, Twilight. But to understand what’s going on you need to expand your understanding of who and what you are.”

Twilight bit her lip, turning away. Truth seemed hard to come by in here, and whenever it visited it hurt too much for her to face it. “I know what you want me to say. I think I’ve always known it deep down, but I never really let myself accept it.”

“It’s a big question,” the Other replied. “‘Who am I?’ A lot of ponies never find an answer to that, Twilight. But you’ve had it all your life.” She flicked her tail, narrowing her eyes. “You are the Element of Magic.”

A beautiful crown emblazoned with Twilight’s cutie mark sat upon the Other’s brow when Twilight looked up next.

“And so am I.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “You... what? You? But you said you’re me! I just assumed you were some kind of hallucination brought on by the stress of having this Nightmare pick my brain apart!”

The Other chuckled. “Oh, this is a stress reaction, believe me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a long series of events that led right to this moment, started a thousand years ago when I was used to end a family feud. When Celestia let her control slip and lost her sister, it nearly destroyed her. And she vowed that it would never, never happen again.”

Magic leaned close to the bars. “Twilight, the truth is standing right outside these bars. I can’t protect you and Dusk much longer. The Nightmare won thanks to Celestia’s interference. The only thing we can do now is mitigate the damage.”

Twilight fidgeted uncomfortably. Everything this being said felt like the truth—there was no gut reaction telling her to close her ears or shout that Magic itself was lying. It was like a broken bone being set; painful but necessary. And Magic was right. If this little cage was all Twilight had left, then she could very well be facing death this very moment.

If she was going to die, she would die full of knowledge.

“Show me,” she said, and the bars fell away.

Magic smiled. There was something vicious about her smile, but Twilight didn’t have time to think about it before her mind folded in on itself, and then exploded outward.

It wasn’t a painful experience, but it was so strange and alien she almost mistook it for pain. She was suddenly very aware of her place and condition, as if every nerve was another little Twilight Sparkle living her own life, and she knew every aspect of every sensation. She knew things; not just as lectures from a book, but deeply, intimately, lovingly, as if every spell she ever learned was a child she’d reared. She was everything, that beautiful wholeness she’d felt when Magic whisked her away from the Princesses and deposited her outside of Ponyville. Before her was a vast purple cloud of magical power and security.

Twilight flung her hooves out and plunged into it.

She floated through a beautiful menagerie of brilliant orbs, hanging like stars in the lavender sky. She reached out and touched each one that came close, and they burst into an infinity of feelings and memories. Some she recognized, like Rarity’s disastrous fashion show and Fluttershy’s triumphant day mastering her fear of dragons, and others she did not: Rainbow Dash single-hoofedly demolishing an apartment room they shared once by breaking the plumbing, or Applejack going steady with a colt. She saw herself writing friendship letters with only a single word changed, and she knew the word that should have been there instead.

She went deeper into the cloud and touched more of the floating lights. Images and memories flooded uncontrolled into her mind. A pony with an orange coat and pink mane she did not know touched her shoulder and talked about what a good friend she was. 

“I know, Sparkleworks. I’d never have made it without you,” Twilight said, eyes brimming with happy tears.

Another mare, many years older than her, reported that the Lunar Republic was amassing forces in the east and an agent must be sent to uncover their plans.

Twilight nodded with conviction, gingerly touching the map on her table. “We’ll send Firefly. She’s the best we’ve got.”

She was on a beach on a beautiful tropical island, silently contemplating the world as a fire crackled merrily on the sand before her.

She was on the deck of an airship battling a storm. “Captain Sparkle!” she heard a voice cry. “This hurricane isn’t lettin’ go easy!”

“Earth ponies don’t let a little wind bother them, Salty! More sail!”

She was in a suit floating in space where there was only the sound of her breathing for company, and Equestria’s world spread out before her. She steadied herself on the rungs just outside the airlock and contemplated how lucky she was to be the first pegasus into space.

She went even deeper into the cloud, and as she went she felt the memories grow more vivid, more personal. The lavender cloud darkened and rumbled like a stormfront, and the bright orbs flashed with lightning. She felt terror, despair, and black, raging anger.

She reached out and was a tyrant, laughing at the supplications of her slaves. She was a cowering foal, watching dragonfire scorch the sky. She was a general leading conquering armies to war. She was a broken old mare, living her last days in a sorry retirement home. She was a ruthless researcher pushing the boundaries of magic and science, heedless of consequences. 

She was everypony and nopony, herself and a thousand different others. She saw Equestria as it was, wasn’t, and could never be. She touched a thousand different lives and a million different emotions, and though all of them were universes apart she knew that in every one she remained her. A spark of life and friendship that connected her to each and every vision. No matter where she went or who she was, she was Twilight Sparkle, known by a million different names but remaining the same pony.

She came through the anger and bitterness, through the joy and wonder, and rested at the very center of the cloud. Universes wheeled overhead, but she was still and quiet, watching it all go by. Occasionally, the lights collided with one another, but instead of being destroyed they would simply break into a hundred other new lights, bringing the spark of creation to darkened corners of reality still untouched.

Do you see now?

“I do.”

These are your stories, and still others that you have touched. Stories told again and again, each slightly different from the last, all writing and being written by each other. All coming from—

“Me,” Twilight whispered. “Are they real?”

They are as real as they need to be. Stories create and destroy ponies, lives, and themselves. They can inspire acts of greatness, and acts of madness. They touch and are touched by each other. The spark, our spark, is what makes them come alive. Your touch of vitality is all they need to simply... be. Why do they have to be real in order to be important?

Twilight steadied herself for the ultimate question.

“Is Dusk Shine real?”

He is as real as you are. His world is yours. You own and are owned by him. But in the end, Twilight Sparkle, your spark is the one that lit all of these fires. You are the painter, brush, and easel. The foundation. The real. If your mind dies, then so do a hundred million worlds you could and do live upon.

Twilight saw other clouds far, far beyond her own. They collided and mixed, pulled apart and swam together through the reaches of infinity. Each was full of a galaxy’s worth of little lights which danced the same dance as Twilight’s own, crashing into each other, bouncing ideas and concepts off one another to create a new little universe, where even everything could be the same but for a single breath taken where one was not.

Behold the stories of every living thing, Twilight Sparkle. You exist in every one.

“But how?” Twilight gasped. “There’s so many...”

And the spark of Magic touched all of them. Your actions ripple out from your single, solitary life and impact so many more. They see you and feel you, and they write stories of their own. Worlds beyond even these take note of you, Twilight.

Twilight sighed and touched her broken horn. Magic’s words were no longer a rejoinder to her own thoughts but complementary to them, and she found it profoundly strange to be one with a voice in her head. “I’m just talking to myself now, aren’t I?” she wondered.

In a sense.

“Great.”

An indescribable noise rent the air. Twilight looked up and saw a great black cloud invading the space above her, sliding out from the dark gaps between lights, between worlds. It sent out tendrils of shadow into each one it passed, devouring and blackening them as it went. The lights sputtered and died, and Twilight was sad to see them go, even the horrible ones where she killed ponies or devoured souls. Each was a story that would never be. Each light the cloud annihilated drew it closer, down towards herself.

It was only then that Twilight noticed another light, orbiting around her closer than all the others. It felt warm and comfortable, like her well-worn Smarty Pants doll, but when she reached out for it a tendril from the black cloud above shot down and pierced it. Twilight felt a keen sense of loss.

“That’s what the Nightmare is looking for,” she whispered, “my story. It wants to rewrite who I am. I’m sitting at the epicenter of everything that was ever inspired by my life and it’s going to rip the heart right out!” She stood up and paced on a nonexistent floor. “But why?”

Because you want it to.

“No!” she retorted. “I don’t want to destroy so much! I want to make everything better! Celestia, Equestria, all of it! That’s what I always wanted!”

She touched her forehead, feeling a pulse of pain from her broken horn. Where did that come from? 

She was swept away into a river of understanding, coming to stop on a shore made of something like basalt. She stood up and saw a fantastic landscape of ever-shifting shapes and forms. Bubbles and ribbons of colors twisted and dove around her.

Magic stood before her, wearing its crown. “All of those stories you saw are connected, Twilight, and if you don’t protect them they’re going to die. The Nightmare is not the only threat here. Celestia and her paranoia must be stopped.”

“Paranoia?” Twilight gasped. “I... I’m sorry, I still don’t understand. What did she do to you, to me? Why was all this with Luna and Morningtide so horrible?”

“Celestia showed you that she defeated Nightmare Moon and imprisoned her. But I was there before Nightmare Moon came to be. I was there when Celestia turned her back on her sister in favor of ordering the day to her exact specifications. And when it all went wrong... she chose instead to tighten her grip even further over Equestria and its fate.”

“But... but it all turned out all right, didn’t it? I found you, I awoke the Elements—”

“I WAS ALWAYS AWAKE!” Magic thundered, and the wondrous landscape was shrouded in black and red, the ribbons turned to spikes and the Nightmare’s cackling echoed in the sky above them. “I was there for all of it Twilight, and deep down so were you! I was there for every single day Celestia watched for the Elements’ return, for every moment of every pony’s life! I am every tear that is wiped away, every hug that a pony gives to another, every spark of inspiration and every molecule that wraps around your teacup when you are thirsty! Every friendship that was ever born was another reason for me to be! I am Magic, and I never sleep!”

Magic threw her hoof up and tore open a seam in the air before Twilight, and Twilight was dragged forward into the white space beyond.

She found herself in the middle of a great castle, surrounded by finery, and recognized it as the Castle of the Two Sisters from Celestia’s vision. In front of her stood the pedestals of the Elements, each of them whole and perfect, watching over the grand hall. Twilight heard the great doors swing open once again and turned with a fright. But instead of fires and destruction outside the great door, there was a beautiful, unscarred city sitting peacefully in the daylight. Ponies at market went back and forth in the grand venue in front of the castle, pegasi wheeled happily through the sky. A unicorn performer played with the water from a fountain to the delight of a small crowd.

Princess Luna’s scowling visage smothered it all as she stalked up the steps and through the door, flanked closely by Princess Celestia and several royal guards and castle staff.

“Thou needn’t have caused such a fright for our little ponies, dear Sister,” Celestia said, regal and detached. Luna refused to answer her and continued towards the back of the hall. 

Celestia blew an extremely immodest raspberry. “Presenting thy cold shoulder to the Sun, Luna? That tactic is eighty years old.”

“LEAVE US,” Luna commanded, and the advisors and soldiers scurried to every side hall and empty nook or cranny they could find. Luna stormed away again, stopping short just after she passed the pedestal of the Elements.

Celestia—and Twilight couldn’t be sure, but she looked smaller than the present day—rolled her eyes. “Didst thou mean the ‘royal’ we, or—”

“That jape,” Luna seethed while refusing to look at Celestia, “is many times older than our present quarrel with thee, Sister.”

“Luna, thy temper tantrums are most unbecoming. Equestria is civilized now. The days of Discord and monsters from a bygone age are done. Thine everlasting lust for conflict has created a fracture in the very society thee and I were the architects of. The common ponies delight in plays, Luna, plays about our tiffs. It is growing most tiresome.”

“It is always my fault, isn’t it?” Luna hissed, dropping the royal cadence, reverting to a Luna even younger than this, a Luna that was not royal at all but weary and mortal and free from duty. She seemed to relish in it, delight in it as her muscles grew more loose and her mane fluttered gloriously. “It’s never your fault, because you never do anything! You sit in the middle of a giant whirl of confusion and titter at how all the silly ponies beneath you act because nothing ever ruffles your divine feathers! Celestia the statespony! Celestia the Architect! Celestia this, Celestia that, Celestia everything!”

“Luna, lower thy voice!” Celestia huffed. “What manner of madness afflicts thee, Sister? Dost thou enjoy giving the bards more material for their satire?”

“Stop acting like I’m not saying anything important!” Luna balked, stomping up to look Celestia in the eyes. “Will you not talk to me as you once did? Look at you! You’re wearing dresses and going to balls and having fun in your precious daytime and what is left for me? Our little ponies even call this the Golden Age! YOUR FAVORITE COLOR IS GOLD!”

“Luna, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun as immortal rulers of the world,” Celestia sighed. “Besides, fashions are so ephemeral one must enjoy them while they’re here.”

“You wore peacock feathers for a whole year! In court! Ugh, that is not even what I am angry about, you’re obfuscating again!” 

Celestia gave a disgusted grunt and walked past Luna. “Oh, look at us, repeating the same arguments we’ve had for, what, two centuries now? Luna, please. I have given you every demand you asked for. You have a Night Court, you have celebrations in your name, you have statues of you across the land and still you demand more like a child!”

“For the thousandth and last time I do not seek attention!” Luna gasped desperately. “I want... I want...”

She trailed off into silence, staring at the floor. Celestia, momentarily tender, regarded Luna with pity. “See, Sister? The demands of thine own heart are unclear to thee. Perhaps thou should join Me at tonight’s revelry. I tire of these endless roundabout arguments! One day Luna, you must simply wake up and see that you already have everything you could want.”

Celestia marched away and left the room. Luna stood stone still in the middle of the hall for a good long while. At length her eyes lifted to the Elements, which sat and watched passively as they had for centuries.

“No, Sister,” Luna whispered. “Not one day.”

The vision came to an abrupt end as Twilight pulled back, shaking her head free of the cloying nausea of seeing the world through eyes that were and weren’t her own.

“That was the day Luna set her mind on her rebellion,” Magic said. “The day she opened her heart to the darkness. And when she was banished, what did Celestia say?”

Magic waved her hoof again, and Twilight spiraled forward.

“No, wait—!” she cried, but suddenly found herself on the blasted remains of a great open field. She looked up and saw ashes and broken trees all around, the sky still roiling with miasmic clouds and the distorted lightning of magical fallout. At the epicenter of the devastation stood Celestia in rent and battered golden armor, staring up at the sky with a brokenhearted look on her face. Twilight’s instinct to rush forward and comfort her mentor was tempered by the pain she’d so recently been put through, and knowing this was merely a vision she stood her ground. Tears streamed from Celestia’s yes as she sank to her knees, lifted her mouth, and let loose with a terrible cry.

This was a sound beyond any that Twilight knew a  mortal could make. It was hundreds of years of love twisted into pain and anger and sorrow and all kinds of terrible things that made Twilight’s heart crumple in on itself and hide away deep in her chest, trying to squeeze out the love and anguish it felt in the immortal’s scream.

“Never again!” Celestia shouted when the final cry tore from her lips. “Never again! I swear, Luna! I will never let this darkness win again!”

The vision fell away once again, and Twilight stood face-to-face with Magic. “And she waited, Twilight. She waited and planned and plotted, and when the Elements left her for good she just got even more controlling and twisted and desperate. She waited and watched, and then fate stepped in. And you were born.” Magic sighed and walked away from Twilight. “And with you, I was too.”

Twilight was about to insist that wasn’t possible—but something held her tongue in check.

“Then you figured it out already?” Magic asked with a wry smile. “When you told Nightmare Moon that the spirits of the Elements were present even when their physical forms were destroyed, you were talking about you and your friends.”

“Then... you could have been anypony?”

“Could have,” Magic said, “and the other Elements could have been any other pony, but through the strange, intertwining twists of fate and Celestia’s intervention, I am you. Celestia did everything she could to ensure it would be no other way. The bonds forged by ponies who were already paragons of the virtues the Elements embodied, quickened and tempered by the crisis of Nightmare Moon’s return... There is something disgustingly elegant about how perfectly it was all planned. Celestia knew your time as Magic was near, and she knew that Magic would draw ponies that fit the Elements to it like moths to a flame. But the process had to be swift, dire, and above all magical. I had to be reborn at precisely the right moment in precisely the right way: at the climax of Celestia’s story for you. It’s how she always meant it to be, to make you the savior. Perhaps it was her strange way of trying to make it up to me for starving me of my true nature for so long.”

“Starving you?” Twilight asked.

“You are Magic, Twilight. The spark that creates friendship, that drives inspiration and creation, and ultimately, the fulcrum on which whole universes turn. You were born to make friends. And Celestia... she kept us cloistered in her ivory tower. Grooming us. Preparing us. Making sure that you were the one that would bring about my re-entrance to the world, and that you never knew a single friend until the day she wanted you to. She forced you to deny your very nature until she decided you were worth it.”

Twilight sunk onto her flanks and stared downward, remembering all she’d seen before, all the days Celestia passed off her lack of friends as a silly eccentricity. She suddenly felt very, very vulnerable, and very, very naked. It was like a piece of herself had been stripped away with the revelation, leaving a Twilight that was smaller, lesser than the one before.

“Now you see,” Magic said, “now you see why she must be stopped.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed.

“Why do you hate her so much?” she asked.

Magic’s mane flared up, and she rose up on her hind legs, kicking at Twilight so she fell back. “Were you not just listening?! Were you not just privy to some of Equestria’s greatest secrets? She tricked you, Twilight! She used you! She controlled every aspect of your life and forced you to bend to her will!”

Twilight stood and waved her hoof, exposing the field where Celestia lay after banishing her sister, crying out for all the mistakes she’d made and what she would give to make it right again.

“That’s not a pony who is evil,” she whispered. “Just a desperate one, who loves too much to see the right way.”

Magic sniffed and turned away. “I was right to leave her. The discord in her heart made it impossible for her to be our vessel any longer.”

Twilight shook her head. “Maybe. But... I remember so much more than this. You were with me the entire time. How could you have forgotten everything she did for us?”

“Coddled us, made us weak, kept us from friendship, denied us our true nature—” Magic spat.

Twilight pressed forward, narrowing her eyes. “I’m part of you, but you’re also part of me. There’s more to all this than what the Nightmare is thinking. If it got me, it got you too.”

Magic’s eyes flashed, and something dark passed through the whites of her eyes. “I am showing you the truth!”

“The truth the Nightmare in me wants me to see. The truth you’ve bottled up for so long along with as much rage and anger as Celestia had for herself.” Twilight leaned in, boring into the innermost depths of Magic with ease. “I can see it now, the whole story. You, me, Dusk, the Nightmare... We’re all the parts of a whole that have to come together.”

“And the Nightmare will destroy all of us,” Magic grunted.

“No, it won’t,” Twilight whispered. “This is the Nightmare’s story now, which means it’s my story too. And if I choose to reject it, then I won’t let it end this way.”

“The Nightmare used the trauma of the last few weeks to obliterate everything. It has consumed all but the final pieces of your mind,” Magic retorted. “Dusk is fighting the last battle even as we speak.”

“Then you need my help just as much as I need yours. Dusk is real. I can see that now. I’m not going to abandon him when he needs me most, and that means I’m not abandoning you either. Magic won’t work in the state you’re in.” She lifted a hoof and tore another hole, pulling Magic into the infinite white beyond. “Friendship is built on faith and trust. Not just a dynamic collision of events and feelings like the night I faced Nightmare Moon. You said you were there for everything; let me show you what you missed.”

----------------

The train station at the edge of Ponyville had suddenly become the edge of the world. Their home town was nothing but a spit of land stretching over the sea of darkness that starting to consume the entire landscape, swallowing towns, hills and the sky itself. The cracks in reality they saw in Everfree had already spread beyond Ponyville and tore Equestria apart at the seams, leaving huge gashes miles long scattered across the bleak landscape. Shapeless soupy clouds that ranged from grey to black were spilled across the land and sky in huge blotches like a foal had spilled his paint over the whole country.

The devouring nothingness lapped against the shore of Ponyville, eroding it bit by bit. At least they had the fortune to find the train, whole and silent and empty on its tracks. Looking forward Dusk saw the train tracks weaved over a long isthmus of Equestria that still clung to reality, leading to the sad, hunched silhouette of Canterlot hanging off the distant mountainside like a vulture roosting over carrion.

“We sure this thing’s gonna outrun the Nightmare?” Rainbow asked, tapping the train engine. “I mean, if it can do all this—”

“Don’t think about it,” Dusk answered, directing Elusive to shovel coal into the furnace. “Just act, Rainbow.”

Rainbow looked down at Dusk, who flinched away from the look in his friend’s eyes. It wasn’t a friendly gaze.

“We shouldn’t have left them,” Rainbow said. “I can carry them outta here—”

“No,” Dusk interrupted. “They’re... they’re like Applejack now, Rainbow. They can’t help us.”

“Says you, mister Element of Magic,” Rainbow grunted as he picked up a shovel and tossed coal into the boiler, pointedly shoving Elusive out of the way as he did so. “Spark of friendship,” Rainbow grunted as he heaved more fuel into the boiler, lighting the fire and getting a little too close to the flames for Dusk’s comfort. “Center of everything, huh? Leaving ponies behind when they fall... isn’t right...”

Dusk looked away, waiting for the train to start. Rainbow was only saying what they were all thinking, but the guilt wouldn’t help them anymore than staying to reason with Butterscotch and Bubble would. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why, but the nagging feeling that getting to Canterlot was the only way to solve this wouldn’t leave him. He set his heart on that and took hold of it, refusing to think about anything else. What could they do when the Nightmare claimed Dusk was the anchor that held the world together? And what could that mean for all of them? Elusive, helplessly lost, just sat next to Dusk and let silent tears stream down his cheeks. The grief was omnipresent and Dusk didn’t even feel the need to comfort his friends. They all felt the same and trying to cheer them up was pointless; cheer didn’t really exist anymore. Not when Laughter itself refused to give them a smile.

The steam gathered and the train slowly came to life as Dusk released the brakes. The engine shuddered as the familiar chug-chug from within the train’s bowels grew to a noisy din, and the wheels clacked over the tracks.

The train sailed out over the nothingness, though with how close and far away everything felt Dusk couldn’t be sure if they were even moving through anything at all. 

“It’s working,” Elusive said, leaning back against the locomotive’s cool metal walls and sighing like it was his last breath. “Thank the Princes it’s working.”

Dusk winced; thinking about them hurt too much. He just sat down and tried not to look at Rainbow, who glared straight ahead and said nothing.

“Land,” Elusive said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, peering ahead of the locomotive. “Dusk, Rainbow, look! There’s land out there! Like islands in the sea...”

Dusk glanced up and saw a whole chunk of Equestria turned ninety degrees on its side fly past the train. A house was attached to it, a fire hydrant and a bush circling it like moons. Other, larger pieces drifted aimlessly near and far, making up a broken landscape of randomly assorted flotsasm that made Dusk wish dearly for his air balloon; it would make the trip more bearable. They had no guarantee the tracks even reached all the way to Canterlot.

The surreal landscape gaped at them as they sped through it, flaunting its macabre strangeness. The rocking of the train on the tracks was a source of constant anxiety for Dusk, who constantly imagined the train suddenly flying off its tracks and tumbling endlessly into the void around them. He didn’t know how this was working at all anymore; the very moorings of reality were undone and his knowledge didn’t help. He just had to trust that he was doing something right, and was still with him if they weren’t all dead yet.

“Look!” he heard Rainbow cry suddenly, pointing behind them to Ponyville. “Look at that! Oh, sweet ponyfeathers, no... just look!”

Dusk poked his head out of the train engine and turned back. What he saw made his heart drop into his stomach. The roiling clouds of oblivion swept like a storm over the landscape Ponyville and the surrounding countryside rested on, eating away buildings, roads, and trees. What was left of Whitetail Wood cracked apart and disintegrated into ashes before his eyes. He saw town hall crumble and burst like a bomb went off inside. The Everfree Forest was nothing but a carpet of quickly expanding blackness that tore into the remnants of Ponyville and ate up what the void didn’t take.

Elusive, his voice raw and hushed, whispered, “Do you think they saw it coming?”

Nopony answered.

Dusk hung his head and flopped back against the walls of the locomotive, waiting for the nightmare to be over and knowing it never would. Not until they reached Canterlot. And yet, somehow, watching his home of so many years get torn to ribbons didn’t even pull at his heartstrings. So much anguish had run through him in the last several hours his mind couldn’t process anymore. He wasn’t surprised; after all, the Nightmare told him this would happen.

What did surprise him was when they looked ahead and saw the tracks running straight over one of those islands that still existed in the wasteland, and there upon it sat a familiar orange figure that only got more clear as they approached.

“Is that—?” Elusive asked.

“Applejack,” Rainbow muttered. “How’d he get out here?”

Dusk felt a pit in his stomach. Canterlot wasn’t far now—in fact, they were near the very foot of the mountain—but Dusk wouldn’t feel right until they were in the castle and wearing the Elements.

“Should we stop?” Rainbow asked, in a biting tone that was half serious and half accusatory.

Dusk didn’t know what to think. He opted for honesty, finding a black kind of humor in that. “I’m not sure,” he said.

“Well, I am,” Rainbow grunted, pulling on the brakes. Elusive gulped and stayed in the back of the engine.

The island Applejack had chosen for his own wasn’t very large at all, more a spit of land that snaked out into the darkness with no trees and what appeared to be the remnants of a hill near the back of it.  Applejack himself sat patiently next to the train tracks, watching them screech to a halt. His hat was with him, and somehow Dusk found that more reassuring than even the fact that Applejack himself was alive and well—or so it seemed.

They came to a stop directly in front of Applejack, who didn’t move and only blinked and glanced between the three of them.

“Ya’ll headed ta’ Canterlot?” he drawled.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said before Dusk could stop him. “You comin’ with?”

“Maybe so,” said Applejack. “What’re ya’ll gonna do there?”

“Stop the Nightmare,” Dusk said. He wanted to be happy that Applejack was back and seemingly willing to help, but something stopped him. Something about the way Applejack looked and sounded and felt.

He still looks as angry as when we parted in Ponyville... and how did he get out here?

He posed the question to the farmpony, who responded with a shrug. “Wasn’t easy, lemme tell ya. Had ta’ jump through a few hoops.”

“And that means what, exactly?” Dusk asked, numb to his own hostility.

“Oh, come on Dusk,” Rainbow growled, slapping a hoof against the engine wall. “This is Applejack, and he’s back now, and we’re gonna get up to Canterlot and kick that Nightmare’s flank. Right? Right. AJ, hop aboard. I don’t know what you’re doing here and I don’t care. What matters is you’re here.”

“Where’re Bubble and Butter?”

Dusk and company hung their heads. Applejack tsk’d, but nodded knowingly. “Right. I get it. Shame about them. Wanted ta’ say goodbye.”

“Yeah, me too,” Rainbow muttered. “Now come on. We’re headed for Canterlot.”

“Why?” Applejack asked, peering up at them. “We’re already there.”

Rainbow blew a raspberry. “What? No, come on. We still got like an hour to go at this... rate...”

He and Dusk and Elusive turned their heads simultaneously. There in front of them was the train station that marked the beginning of Canterlot’s mountain path. Beyond was the intimidating façade of Canterlot, and above the city itself hung over the grim eternal space, a dour skeleton sitting on its dead throne watching over the graveyard of Equestria.

“What,” he gasped, “is going on here?”

“I dunno,” Applejack replied, “but it looks like good fortune for ya’ll. Maybe. Or maybe it’s just what the Nightmare wants.”

Dusk turned back to Applejack. “Why would it want us to come here?”

“‘Cause that’s the way the cookie crumbles, or the story goes, or whatever malarkey it was spewin’, right?” Applejack flipped his hat up onto his head and sniffed. “If our world’s just a big ol’ grand storybook, stands ta’ reason it’s gotta kill us in the most thematically appropriate place: Right where we’re about ta’ actually beat it, it swoops down an’ nails us for a dramatic victory.”

The pit in Dusk’s stomach grew as Applejack nodded towards the mountain path.

“So come on, better get goin’. Don’t wanna keep destiny waitin’ or nothin’.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Elusive spoke up, hopping out of the engine and trotting towards Applejack. “Wait. This is ridiculous. When we saw you in Ponyville you were talking about how you wanted to find your family, and now you’re talking as if everything has already been decided! What happened back there? How did you get out here?”

Applejack shivered, almost vibrating before Dusk’s very eyes before he turned back with the bleakest look Dusk had ever seen on a pony’s face.

“My eyes were opened,” he rasped. “I saw the truth, Lucy. You did too. I can see it in your eyes. When you broke open the door of Carousel Boutique and looked down...”

“Applejack—”

“... an’ you saw the little pile a’ dust that used ta’ be your little brother? An’ your fussy little cat?”

Elusive clamped his jaw shut, his face going stone blank. His head quivered up and down in a small, pained nod.

“All right then,” he whispered hoarsely, “all right then Applejack. You want to be so... so casually blunt as usual? Then how about you take a moment away from stomping over what’s left of my heart and tell us what is going on with you?”

Rainbow stepped out of the train engine, no longer glowing with desperate, needy trust. Applejack turned to him and smiled. “What, Rainbow? You act like you never seen me before.”

“I haven’t,” Rainbow said, his voice flat. “Not this Applejack. You’re honest, but you were never cruel. If you’re Applejack, you’re gonna give us the honest truth right now or I swear to Solaris I will punt you right off this rock.”

Applejack broke into a wheezing, condescending laugh.

“The truth,” he said, drawing out the word into a grating snarl. “That’s just it, isn’t it? There is no more truth anymore. Ya’ll want me ta’ be honest? There’s nothin’ to be honest about! The truth? The truth is a lie! Lies are the new truth! This, all of this—!” He waved a hoof, encompassing what was left of Equestria. “All of it is nothin’ but some jumped-up little fantasy that got too big for its britches! Some little dream world some mare thought up in her free time, right? That’s what the Nightmare said, right Dusk?”

Dusk stammered.

“Right?!” Applejack snapped.

“Uh, yes. Yes, right,” Dusk whispered. “That’s what the Nightmare said.”

Applejacked nodded. “Okay then! Let’s start from there, shall we? The Nightmare says this whole world’s nothin’ but a big ol’ lie. An’ unlike the truth, lies can be twisted around any which way we want. So it twisted and twisted until Equestria broke like a bone that bucks a tree wrong. But see, this place isn’t just a world of destruction. The Nightmare can create, too. It wants to create its own world, like she did. And it can make other places, too. It told me.”

Rainbow’s eyes went wide and he crept back to Dusk and Elusive. “Told you? What does that mean, told you?”

Applejack took his hat off, dusting it with a hoof as more ashes drifted down from Canterlot. “It means just what I said. It told me. It found me at Sweet Apple Acres and told me the truth: that lies are the only thing worth putting faith in.” He looked up at Dusk, and black droplets swam over his pupils as he came towards them, step by step.

“Get back,” Dusk whispered, but Applejack came on anyway. Dusk ushered his friends away from the train, circling towards the mountain path.

“So maybe,” the former farmpony said, “it was lying when it said that if you all die, it’ll give me back Equestria just the way I like it. Maybe it was lying when it said that you can’t just die, you gotta suffer first so it can be ‘done right’ or whatever it was goin’ on about. Maybe it was lying when it said that I’d get back my family and my farm and everything would go back to being a nice, blissful place of ignorance. But hay... the whole world’s a lie now, boys. You just gotta take what you can get.” He shuddered and his body seemed to waver like a heat mirage, elongating and shrinking at random. “Gotta... take what you can get...”

“Applejack!” Dusk shouted, his heart twisting in his chest as he urged the others back, towards the mountain path that led to Canterlot, “you don’t really believe it’s going to give it all back, do you?!”

“No,” Applejack whispered as he followed them. His tongue slithered out of his mouth, curling under his chin before snapping back in place. “No, see, it doesn’t matter who gets brought back or not because nopony’s gettin’ ‘brought back.’ We’re not real, Dusk. None of this is. You gotta see that by now.”

Applejack’s spine cracked and went out of alignment. Deep gashes split open over his strong form, revealing a blacker than black ooze that dripped and slithered and writhed of its own accord just beneath his skin. Dusk met his eyes when he looked up. They were full of tears.

“Applejack,” Elusive cried, “no! Don’t do this! Don’t give in!”

Applejack ignored him. “But I... I still feel so much, Dusk. I felt the anger and the regret when I saw everything gone. I felt the pain way deep down inside of me when I knew my family wasn’t comin’ back. I felt the shame, too. The shame for considerin’ what it said an’ agreein’ to it. I felt that more than anything else. But now it’s all gonna go away. It’s all gonna go away.”

He sniffed, rubbing his nose with a hoof that drooped and oozed down to the ground. “Just as soon as you all do too.”

The last three ponies in Equestria turned and ran for their lives. Behind them, Applejack shook his head sadly as the darkness boiled up and out of his body, bursting from under his skin and reaching out like some grotesque limb for every inch of him it could reach. It coiled and twisted around his limbs and face until it consumed him.

Dusk thought he heard a scream, but he couldn’t hear over the sound of the Nightmare’s laughter in his head.

Applejack’s body collapsed under the darkness and melted into an amorphous mass of squirming tendrils and viscous inky matter that blossomed up into a grotesque wave, crashing onto the base of the slope, boiling the ground away as it surged after them.
> Intercession
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle cried as Princess Celestia closed the book, replacing it on her shelf. The little scrape it made joining its brothers seemed terribly final and depressing, even though Twilight knew full well she would pull the book out again tomorrow when she asked for that story again. She settled back against her star-snowed pillow and pouted, looking up at the ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars she had carefully arranged into approximations of the actual night sky.

“Princess, why do books have to end?” she asked, tearfully rubbing her eyes with her favorite purple blanket.

Celestia smiled as she turned back to her little charge. “Dear one, the world is full of stories of every kind and more come every day. They never truly end. They blend, little Twilight, affecting each and every story that comes before and after, until they are all are merely the continuation of one truly grand epic.” She took Twilight’s sheets in her teeth and tucked her in with grace and poise that only a mother could possess. “But remember this: there will always be more stories to tell, and though all will be told, not all will be heard. But yours will.”

“How do you know?” Twilight asked, her eyes big with fear and wonder.

Celestia’s smile was like a warm glass of honeyed tea. She pointed out the window with her wing. “Let’s just say I have a... broader perspective on life than most."

Another Twilight Sparkle, older and wiser and scarred by life, watched from the doorway. She breathed quietly even though she knew the memories couldn’t notice her; moments like these were sacred and cherished, treasured deep down inside the vaults of her heart. “Not many ponies were there for me back then,” she whispered, “but she always was. Every moment of every day.”

“Watching,” Magic hissed in her ear.

“Yes,” Twilight said with a smile. “Watching, waiting, and guiding.”

She turned away, moving past Magic into an empty lecture hall. The teacher’s desk sat bare at the front, waiting for books and chalk and the rap of a stern ruler getting attention. The chalkboard was wiped clean, and the desks were polished and ready to be occupied by bustling students, save one.

Twilight saw her younger self sitting at a desk in the very front, her eyes roaming over an old study book. She knew it well: Advanced Magical Theory, Tier 1. But in spite of the tome being an old, rote thing to her, she scrutinized every line she read. The door swung open and Celestia came inside. Even here, surrounded by the opulence and pomp of Canterlot’s top school, she took Twilight’s breath away as she seemed to glide into the room rather than just walk in, measuring every step so it was smooth and elegant. 

Princess Celestia looked down at her with a sublime smile. “My faithful student, why are you here? It is well into Saturday afternoon and classes are done with.” She paused. “For the whole weekend.”

Twilight looked up, her expression flat. Celestia just smiled.

“I miss my parents,” said the young student, dropping her chin onto her hooves.

“Then go to them,” Celestia replied without hesitation, utterly unruffled by her bluntness. “You are no prisoner here, Twilight.”

“Really?” Twilight scrunched up her nose. “I’ve been working nonstop for a week now. I’m about two days away from cracking the third algorithm in a spell that’s been eluding me for months. You’d really just let me drop everything to go see them?”

“I would.”

“And she did,” Twilight Sparkle whispered. The Other was silent.

Twilight turned away and found herself in a large field. It stretched out about fifty hoof-lengths in every direction, carpeted with bright green grass that tickled her belly interspersed with flowers of every color. Bees buzzed between them mechanically, searching each one in turn. Beyond the field Twilight saw the ground abruptly give way to a blank, vast plain of darkness, stretching out to the very limits of the horizon. Twilight took an experimental step and found the grass of the field supple and comfortable to walk on, and she started to pace in ever-widening circles, closing her eyes and pretending the smell of fresh flowers wasn’t more than a scattered memory amid a sea of bubbling black.

“You recall it all with such ease,” the Other whispered, sounding awed. Twilight allowed herself a little smile, trying not to appear smug as her lips curled up.

“They were defining moments in my life,” she answered. “Not even the Nightmare can kill those. It was easy once I started to look. The Nightmare is me, right? I can’t destroy my own memories. Nopony can. We just choose to ignore them sometimes.”

The Other was silent.

Twilight smiled at her, turning away again to wander the field. She plucked out one of her most important memories, the one that punctuated just when she would become Twilight Sparkle, not just Celestia’s student. She looked up and Celestia stood in front of her, beaming with pride.

“My faithful student,” she said, “I knew you could do it.”

Twilight said nothing, letting the memory play out before her as Celestia radiated loving kindness.

“I told you you needed to make some friends, nothing more. I saw the signs of Nightmare Moon’s return and knew it was you who had the magic inside to defeat her. But you could not unleash it until you let true friendship into your heart.”

The image faded, and Twilight turned back to Magic. “She never wanted to hold me back. Isn’t it obvious? All the times she could have restricted me she tried to push me forward instead.”

“Seeds for a trapped bird,” Magic replied. “We don’t need her to beat the Nightmare, whatever else she might have done for you.”

“But we need her love,” Twilight replied, stepping up to Magic and pressing her forehead against Magic’s neck. She rubbed back and forth, letting her mane brush over the Other’s cheek. “I need to love her and she needs to love me, in spite of everything that’s happened.”

Magic pushed her away. “What she did to us—”

“—will just make us stronger in the end,” Twilight whispered. “What happened to you, Magic? Were you blinded? Is the Nightmare taking away everything of yours, too? Friends forgive, don’t they? Even at their worst, friends forgive. And I am friends with Celestia, whatever you or the Nightmare says.” She waved a hoof out at a spectral field of screens that rose up in front of them, all displaying moments from her life.

“Look at her smile,” Twilight said, regarding one memory with particular fondness. It was the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, and Celestia smiled warmly at Twilight and her friends as they turned an abominable time into something special, purely by dint of each other’s company. Twilight grinned. “Look at how proud she is of how far we came even after freeing her sister. She never stopped caring for us, even if she never nurtured us the way you wanted her to.”

She turned back and looked Magic in the eyes, and shivered at how keen the Element’s gaze was. Was that how she looked to others when she got stern with them? The idea terrified and strengthened her all at once. “Is that all this really is? Holding onto a thousand year grudge for destroying what you once had?” She squinted, and took a deep, fragile breath. “You didn’t want to go, did you? After Nightmare Moon?”

“She rebuffed the advice that all of us gave her,” Magic spat. “You saw it in those visions! The Elements tugged and pulled at her heart and she ignored us, choosing her own wisdom while we pleaded with her to listen. The Elements could have helped Luna! Celestia could have used us to keep her sister from falling in the first place! But by the time Celestia realized it was too late Nightmare Moon was too powerful, and Celestia used us as weapons of war—something we were never meant to be.” Magic turned away and spat into the miry darkness beyond the pleasant little meadow. “You don’t know what it’s like, watching a dear old friend destroy everything you helped them build. After Discord, after the founding of Equestria, after everything we helped them do, they turned away from our teachings. When Celestia severed her friendship with her sister, she severed the bond she had with us as well. Willingly, I should add.”

“Then you had no choice but to leave her,” Twilight murmured. “Just like she had no choice but to banish Luna. And her fear of repeating the same mistakes she made just led to this. But what about Morningtide?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Magic sneered, turning back to Twilight. “Just as she knew you were to be my vessel, she knew that Morningtide had the exact same power. The same capability to tear a hole in the veil she cast her sister behind. That time, the Nightmare almost got in when Celestia used me all over again to bring her sister back before her time. Now it has torn that veil open and is marching through every world unopposed. Morningtide had power that neither he nor Celestia ever truly understood. He had me.” The fathomless eyes snapped back up to Twilight’s, challenging, accusing. “He had you. When Celestia found you, she found everypony she ever saw that had my touch on them. She saw Morningtide and the Nightmare almost destroying him all over again.”

Twilight stood back, feeling strangely light on her hooves in spite of the Nightmare’s clear presence. She felt as if she were more of a mare than she was before, more herself and more complete. The destruction of the Nightmare and its careful picking apart of her mind seemed to have consolidated everything she was more than destroyed it. The guilt and insecurity and fear had been stripped away, taken for fuel by the Nightmare and leaving nothing but the essential, fundamental Twilight in its wake. She had so little to work with, but that feeling brought a certain liberty of spirit that she puzzled over the revelations flying between her and her Element.

“And she saw herself,” Twilight whispered. “And that just made her even more terrified the same mistakes would happen.”

Magic sighed delicately. “I can feel your understanding and sympathy, Twilight. And so it is mine as well. But there is no way to repair a bridge burned so long ago. The Princesses panicked when they saw you were suffering the same fate Morningtide nearly did, and Luna before him. Celestia and Luna both knew that if you were taken by the Nightmare, the world would fall. But that is no excuse. They did something unforgivable.”

“Unforgivable,” Twilight murmured, her unfocused eyes scanning the ground, “is just a matter of perspective. Forgiveness is something Celestia taught me too. Your lack of forgiveness is the Nightmare talking,” Twilight said, boldly coming forward to thrust her nose into her reflection’s face. “Not you, and not me. That’s all the hate and fear and disgust we felt, but that’s not here right now, is it? I can tell the Princesses did everything out of love: love for each other, for Equestria, even me. But ultimately this isn’t about whether or not you and I understand what she did or why. The Nightmare has been showing us only what it wants us to see. I understand that now. Do you?”

She turned towards the infinite field of black that stretched overhead, gesturing towards it. “Dusk Shine’s the key to all of this. He lived in a world where his teacher hid nothing from him and helped him every step of the way.”

“A dream that never existed,” Magic sighed, but Twilight slapped her hoof over Magic’s mouth.

“But still every bit as important and beautiful as my Celestia,” she insisted. “It’s just like what you said. A story doesn’t have to be real to be important. It matters. It all does. I don’t care if you say Dusk isn’t real. I believe in him. I believe that he’s going to survive—and my friendship with Celestia will too. I understand now, I understand why every time I looked at him I felt something that told me that this was a pony I should know. His feelings, his thoughts, his experiences—I wanted all those to be mine, and they weren’t, and maybe they even can’t, but I’m sure as hay not going to stop aspiring to that dream. It’s the story I want to write of my life. I want to trust Celestia. It’s either her or the Nightmare.”

Magic peered at Twilight with a new level of insight. Something passed between them in that moment, something Twilight had never really felt before, even when the Elements were activated against Discord himself. It was a feeling of wholeness and things clicking perfectly into place. Now, instead of simply existing together, she and Magic were one pony again. It wasn’t a bond that could stand up to the pounding of the Nightmare on Twilight’s mental door, but it was a start. A stepping stone to something greater. Twilight longed to establish the same link with the Princesses when she returned to the world.

“What now?” Magic asked.

Twilight took a single breath and looked at the edge of the field, at the line that separated her little island of calm from the roaring anger of the Nightmare. She lifted a hoof and stepped out into the mire. Her hoof sank just a touch, but something firm and springy pushed back and held her up. She kept walking until she stood on all fours in the darkness, and looked over her shoulder.

“Now we find the Nightmare.”

-------------

Dusk Shine hadn’t known true terror throughout the insanity his entire existence had become. He felt anger, desperation, and sadness of the highest orders, all of which reached into his heart and tore the strings asunder until he could barely make sense of it all. When the Princes died, he had felt a pain like no other. Watching his friends succumb to hopelessness had brought despair he never thought possible. Seeing the Nightmare annihilate his universe had brought a great numbing horror. But he had never felt the raw, animal fear of knowing that he was about to be killed, that something was hot on his heels, slavering and gnashing its teeth in keen readiness to devour him.

Yet here he was charging up a mountainside towards a dead city, and a former friend was now that terrible monster that wanted to obliterate him. Now the terror came, nipping at his heels, raking his body with cold iron claws, tugging at his tail and mane as they flapped in the wind. His heart thundered in his chest. Cold sweat chilled his mane as his breath fogged in the cold, rotten air. His hooves pounded the stone, kicking up loose gravel as he threw everything he had into the act of running. His two remaining friends huffed and puffed as they ran for their lives next to him, each of them totally wrapped up in the act of survival. They didn’t even look at each other. The only thing that mattered was what was ahead: the next turn, the next rise, the next obstacle to avoid.

Applejack—or the thing that used to be Applejack—hurtled after them, eating up the landscape as he drove needle-sharp tentacles into the ground and pulling its smoky bulk up the path. Solaris help them, it was getting closer every time he looked back. Dusk pushed himself bodily against the wall he found inside, the one that said his body had reached its limits and he could go no further. Everything from breathing to thinking to speaking was eaten up by the act of running, fueled by the wild animal horror of being hunted.

Applejack gained on them. Dusk felt it in the way the terror seemed to creep up along his spine like an insidious spider, and saw it in the way the engulfing shadow grew larger every time he looked back.

The next bend gave them the sight of Canterlot itself, though Dusk was too exhausted to notice anything save the gates themselves. The drawbridge was down, leading up to the wide open gateway, and past that Dusk saw the grey streets of the city.

Dusk gathered up a breath in his burning lungs and let it out in a tearing shout. “We can’t fight him and we can’t run forever!” The words ripped through his throat as he turned to Rainbow. “We gotta slow him down!”

A grin spread over Rainbow’s face as his eyes focused on the drawbridge. “Already on it! Just keep running.”

Opening his wings, he leapt into the air like a cannonball as he arched overhead and turned towards the gate. Behind the pegasus a rainbow seared the sky, a white-hot blaze of color and life defying the slate-grey clouds. Dusk looked to Elusive, furrowing his brow, and got only a shrug in return as they charged for the gate.

Rainbow reached the apex of his arch and began to come back down. Dusk only then saw he was aiming straight for them. “Is he crazy?!” he shouted, but the thought of being caught by Applejack, now only a few galloping strides behind them, kept him going.

Rainbow streaked down like a polychromatic comet.

They reached the drawbridge, hooves thundering over the wood.

Dusk heard the whistle of Rainbow’s slipstream turn into a roar that filled his ears.

Applejack reached the drawbridge and dug his claws into the decaying wood, slavering and snarling, the whiplash of his whirling tentacles cracking through the air as he prepared to make the final leap. His undulating body surged up like a wave to crash down on the two fleeing unicorns.

Dusk saw a blaze of color and felt a torrent of air slap into him like a solid wall, lifting him off his hooves like an errant breeze lifted a leaf. The world suddenly went spinning all around him and then Dusk realized he was spinning and sailing through the air. Splinters and bits of rock bit into his hide as they chased him. He closed his eyes when he saw the ground getting closer, certain of the screeching pain of his cheek bouncing and skidding over the rough stone ground.

Instead, something hard and blue thudded into his chest, bearing him aloft again as he was bundled up between... hooves.

He looked up and saw Rainbow, his face set with determination, Elusive hanging off his neck with a bewildered expression. Behind them, the remnants of a rainbow-smeared mushroom cloud reached for the sky in its last gasp. The pegasus looked like he had shot straight out of one of a comic book, hurtling down the street and flaring his wings out to bring them to a halt amidst the scream of wind that almost burst into flame from the friction. Just before Dusk thought they were safe, Rainbow cried out and jerked, twisting around to throw Dusk away from him just before he hit the ground harder than even a pegasus should be able to. Elusive flew into a cart full of rotten fruit but Rainbow kept going, skidding and spinning end over end until he crashed through a shop window.

Dusk sprang to his hooves and hurried to him, calling his name.

“I’m here!” Rainbow answered, his voice tight with barely concealed pain. “I’m... ahhh! I’m in here!

“Did that do it?” Elusive asked, brushing rotten avocado off his face and mane. “Did that stop him?”

“Not even for a second,” Rainbow sputtered as Dusk sprang through the window, looking into the shop. Rainbow lay amidst a pile of glass fragments and general store goods. “My wings,” he moaned. Dusk’s eyes went to the feathered limbs and he gasped.

Rainbow’s left wing was twisted at a horrible angle, jutting from Rainbow’s side like some gnarled tree limb. Many of the feathers had fallen—no, were falling—from both wings, snapping off and drifting away to rest amidst the ashes scattered between the aisles. Rainbow reached out for Dusk, who almost recoiled from the pitiful sight, and collapsed against him as he tried to flex his wings. The battered limbs twitched and jerked horribly as they tried to expand again, crackling and freezing up at the joints. Rainbow grimaced, burying his head into Dusk’s chest. “He—he got my wings with something right after I hit him and it hurts, ah hayseeds it hurts Dusk make it stop...”

Rainbow groaned like a slow-falling tree as his wings seized up and became rigid in a grisly half-opened position. On both wings splotchy patches of black were already showing, and Dusk’s stomach turned as he looked closer.

Oh sweet Solaris I can see it spreading he’s going to die oh no no please no—

“G—Get me out of here,” Rainbow grumbled, shoving Dusk back outside. “It friggin’ hurts to walk, ahhh Applejack you bucking traitor I’m gonna rip your friggin’ head off!”

Elusive, red in the face from a nasty burn hurried over to help but stopped at the sight of Rainbow’s ravaged wings. “Oh, Rainbow,” he whispered, but Rainbow shoved him out of the way.

“Don’t start. Just... don’t either of you talk about it, okay? We gotta keep moving. AJ’s kinda ticked that I smashed him in the face with a Rainboom.”

They heard a distant crash and the wail of something unearthly slobbering and slurping down the street. Without any hesitation, they picked the street that went most opposite to the noise and ran.

Soon all they heard was the sound of their restless breathing and the clatter of their hooves over stone. The close walls echoed every sound back to them, bouncing it playfully between the arches and long, meandering streets before tossing it back as if to laugh at them for trying to bring life and noise into a city that held neither of those things anymore. None of them spoke as they passed through the sepulchral passages, watched from every angle by looming, empty-eyed windows and suspicious doors that swung steadily back and forth to an eerie, inaudible cadence, waving to them as they went by.

Every so often a hollow wail came from somewhere behind them. It was a high-pitched warbling thing, hard on the ears and clearly painful if one was too close to the source. It was always accompanied by the sound of shattering stone, like the frustrated cry of an eldritch toddler throwing a tantrum.

Dusk heard a familiar sound in the middle of those shrieking dirges. He heard it only once, but it was enough to chill him to the bone. Dusk, it said. Dusk Shine, come here.

He shivered and kept running.

They didn’t stop until they made it to the main thoroughfare that went up to the castle itself. The wide open plaza was eerily quiet, not a soul to be seen stirring the little piles of smoking ash that littered the ground. Dusk huddled up behind a decorative tree whose branches were bare of leaves.

“Do you see him?” asked Rainbow. Dusk shook his head.

“We lost him once we got to Donut Jane’s old place,” Elusive whispered, keeping an eye out behind them.

“You don’t lose something like that. He’s out there,” Rainbow grumbled, then winced. “Guys, I don’t mean to rush or anything, but I... I can’t feel my wings anymore. This stuff is spreading.”

“We’re almost there,” Dusk hissed over his shoulder. “Just a little further. A little—”

A loud crack followed by a tremendous bang made them all jump. Dusk looked back and saw a large boulder next to the gate that hadn’t been there before, surrounded by a cloud of settling dust. Up above, a hole had been carved into the castle’s battlements.

“It’s falling apart,” Dusk whispered. “The Nightmare’s corruption...”

“It’s already ahead of us,” Elusive said, dropping onto his haunches. “It’s already here! That monster is probably just watching us even now, laughing at us fight each other!”

Rainbow snatched Elusive by his mane and gave him a rough shake. “Get a grip, Lucy! We just gotta cross this plaza, then we’re inside and the Elements are ours. Then all this goes away, right? Right!” He strode into plain sight, going straight for the castle gates. “Now come on. If AJ’s here then he’s just waiting for us.”

“How are we supposed to fight him?” Elusive asked them both.

Rainbow cast his gaze over the plaza, staring at the piles of ash littering the landscape. Some of them still had clothes sitting amidst the burnt-out embers, and others...

“This one has some equipment,” Rainbow said, scattering the ash surrounding a pile of gold-plated guard armor. Dusk watched passively, feeling his stomach turn. Elusive put a hoof over his mouth and retched.

“Rainbow, how could you? That’s a—”

“She doesn’t need it anymore, does she?!” Rainbow snapped, pulling a spear out from under the breastplate. “I don’t know what good this’ll do. Elusive, you take it,” he said, and Elusive reluctantly wrapped his magic around it. “I’d use it if I had my wings, and I’m better with my bare hooves anyway.”

“My magic still doesn’t work,” Dusk said quietly. His words trailed off into an uneasy silence.

“Well, come on,” said Rainbow.

Dusk and Elusive slunk behind him, keeping their heads down. Every step they took made their legs feel heavier as the open space taunted them with their vulnerability. There was a  loud crack that rent the air the moment they reached the center of the open space.

Rainbow shook his head as they all froze in their tracks. “I knew it.”

The ground seemed to be opening up before them, cracking and splitting open into a huge, indefinable blackness—and it was only when the dark cracks became blotches, and the blotches joined together into a pool, that Dusk realized it wasn’t a hole. It was Applejack.

He rose up out of the bubbling black pond, stretching out jointless limbs to heave himself onto dry ground. Rainbow ushered his friends back as the shapeless mass gathered more bulk. A protuberance oozed out from its center, stretching towards them as tentacles blindly groped the air around him.

From the new bulge came a hissing noise that trailed off into a strangled whine that warbled wildly in pitch and tone, struggling with its own incoherence. Amidst the inane babbling, Dusk heard familiar sounds that chilled his blood and seized his attention.

Applejack was talking to them.

“D... Duuusk,” he moaned. “Rain... bow...”

“Applejack?” Dusk asked, tripping over his own hooves as the terror slithered into his heart like the oozing tentacles that swam over the ground.

“Dusk,” he answered, and Dusk felt his heart skip a beat as Applejack turned towards him and began to advance. “Duuusk.”

“Get back!” Rainbow shouted. “Guys, run. I’ll hold him off!”

“Not by yourself!” Elusive snapped, but his attention was drawn back to Applejack as he rose up, and the dark shadows flaring out from his sides coalesced into spikes, blades, and bludgeons. In spite of the fear Dusk froze on the spot, almost mesmerized by the hypnotic swaying of the creature as he prepared to drive every weapon he had straight down onto his skull.

“Diiiiie Dusk diiiiiiie...”

He heard Rainbow shout something, and then an explosive pain as Rainbow pulled him to the side. With a tremendous crash every one of Applejack’s weapon arms smashed the ground Dusk had just stood upon, tearing up the stone and bedrock.

“DIIIIIIIE,” the monster moaned as it sent its arms flailing in every direction, trying to catch the scattering ponies.

“Get to the doors! Go!” Rainbow shouted, picking up a piece of masonry and hurling it at Applejack. He took the blow and simply absorbed the stone into his mass without even slowing down, lashing out with his tendrils. Dusk felt the air rush over him as a near miss struck the stone beneath his hooves, ripping open cracks that raced after him and split the ground open, taking his sure footing away. His blood froze in his veins as he felt himself slip and then fall, cracking his head against the stone. His cheek tore open on a jagged outcrop, and there was blood on the stone as he pushed himself back up. The sound of Applejack’s slithering form was maddeningly close. He could almost feel the cold, clammy tentacles creeping up his leg, around his neck, and squeezing...

“Take this, you ruffian!” Elusive shouted. Applejack screeched and withdrew from Dusk. A glowing spear sprouted from his back, scorching him with magical energy. Elusive’s magic turned to Dusk and wrapped around him, dragging him over the stone into Rainbow’s waiting hooves.

“Come on!” the pegasus shouted in his ear. Dusk felt disconnected and disoriented, half-carried by Rainbow as they hoofed it to the door.

“Hurry! He’s right behind you!”

Dusk heard Applejack howling almost right next to his head. That got him moving and he charged up the steps along with Rainbow. Elusive looked over their shoulders, and his mouth dropped open, his hoof reaching out to them.

Dusk suddenly felt very aware of what was happening. He watched it all unfold, achingly slow. Their eyes met, Elusive’s melancholy colliding with Dusk’s determination. Dusk saw deep into his friend’s gaze and in the wide, reflective pupils he saw Applejack bearing down on them, a gaping maw of gnashing teeth surrounded by a writhing wall of grasping arms and spiny limbs. He saw something thin and silver fly through the air, straight towards them.

His horn sparked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a delicate spark of magic float down next to his head, not unlike a butterfly. Then the butterfly burst, exploding into energy that shot downward like a jackhammer. Before it even hit the floor lavender lines burst out in every direction from under Dusk’s hooves, drawing intricate and familiar patterns on the floor. Elusive bulled into Rainbow with his shoulder, making contact just as the world began to shift, twist, and pull in all the wrong directions, yanking them forward even as Elusive shoved them both sideways, and for a tiny, infinitesimal moment Dusk thought they’d just be able to make it.

Then there echoed a terrible, ghastly noise not unlike that of scissors snapping shut, followed by a spray of something wet and warm on Dusk’s face, and the world stopped moving just as he opened his eyes.

He looked up and saw a cracked, arched doorway soaring overhead, the stone ten thousand years old, spiderwebbed with cracks and ready to drop. Busts lined the hall, cracked and pitted. The carpet frayed and the air smelled stale. All around was ash. Dusk heard a noise and turned.

Elusive stood in front of him, hooves still outstretched. The very same spear he’d attacked Applejack with now impaled him, sticking out of his flank at an awkward angle and going all the way down into his stomach. Dusk saw the tip poking grotesquely from Elusive’s belly as blood dribbled from the hole, along with the dark ichor of something much worse.

Dusk felt cold.

“Lucy?” he asked, licking dry lips. “Lucy...”

Elusive shuddered and his eyes went back to his injury. “Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, Solaris preserve me. Oh my...” He grunted in a low tone and pitched forward, flopping to the ground as he pawed at the shaft sticking from his side, whimpering childishly. Rainbow grabbed his mane in his teeth, pulling him along the ground, pleading with him to get up, get up and move, please get up.

“Lucy,” Dusk sputtered, frozen to the spot. He didn’t know why Applejack or the Nightmare hadn’t already fallen on them, or why his magic had chosen just that moment work, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that long, thin shaft poking so strangely out of his friend’s body. Something like that wasn’t supposed to be there. It fascinated him, drew his eyes relentlessly to it, screamed beguiling wrongness in the way the darkness shrouding it twitched and writhed of its own accord. Dusk gawked, shook his head. He couldn’t understand why that thing was in his friend. Dark lines formed new gashes under Elusive’s alabaster fur, splitting open to let loose a flood of blood and black ooze. Dusk sank to his knees and babbled, “Lucy, why? Why, Lucy? Oh, Lucy, why’d you do it?”

Elusive coughed and shoved Rainbow away from him. He winced, clenched his eyes shut, curled into a pathetic ball on the ground as he struggled to hold back an unearthly scream of agony. He lifted his head and smiled.

“One last generous thing,” he said, and with visible effort he pointed a shaking hoof down the hall. “Go,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and his own phlegm. “Go.”

“No,” Rainbow said, shaking his head so hard his brittle wings rattled. “Not like this! Not like this!”

“Go,” was all Elusive said, all he could say by the way his eyes pleaded and begged, knowing if he said too much he’d erupt into ungentlemanly wailing. “Please go, Rainbow. Please go.”

Dusk’s vision warped and swirled. He remembered the flash of magic, the teleportation sigil coming so cleanly and quickly from his horn, his damnable broken horn—not quick enough. Dusk wasn’t quick enough and now Elusive was dying and the Nightmare was still out there and Applejack was going to kill them and it was all his fault and then the floor suddenly met his face and he pushed his head into the stone and screwed his eyes shut. Rainbow shouted something at him but he wouldn’t listen, Elusive said something about a plan, and for them to just go, then he felt a sharp pain on his mane, and hot breath on his neck.

Rainbow was pulling him by his mane, he realized, and his legs wouldn’t cooperate to help him. They collapsed, and Rainbow kicked him and yelled and even spit on him once, but he just wouldn’t go.

He turned back to Elusive and saw his friend smiling at him and somehow that just made him angry. No, Elusive didn’t get to be happy about this. Not when it was all Dusk’s fault and he hadn’t been able to save him or everypony else.

“I wasn’t quick enough,” he said.

Elusive nodded. “I know,” he answered. “I know, Dusk. Go. Oh, Dusk, I’m dying. Please go. I’ll slow him down, I promise.”

Dusk went, though his legs still weren’t moving. Rainbow had him on his back, and through the grim frame of Rainbow’s broken wings he saw Elusive vanishing into the gloom of the castle hall, looking up at the arched stone doorway run through with massive faults and cracks.

Dusk saw Elusive’s lips move and say something just as a horrible black thing rounded the corner and its shriek drowned him out. Then Rainbow shoved him through the next doorway and pushed it shut, and there was nothing more to be seen.

“Keep moving,” Rainbow gasped, hauling Dusk’s dead weight along. “Keep moving. Keep moving!”

Dusk didn’t move. He felt Rainbow’s hoof strike him in the gut, but there wasn’t much force behind it and all Dusk did was grunt and fall over anyway.

“Keep moving!” Rainbow repeated, yanking him to his hooves. “Everypony's gone... just us. Last pony standing, huh? That’s how it’s gonna be? I’m frickin’ Loyalty,  you hear me? I’m not leaving you, Dusk, but I sure as sap ain’t gonna just let you fall over and die! Get moving!”

“I killed him,” said Dusk. “I killed him, Rainbow. I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t fast enough and my magic didn’t save him. It didn’t save anypony.”

“Not yet,” Rainbow snapped. “Not yet it didn’t. But we’re gonna save everypony now, right? We’re gonna save everypony, Dusk! You said so yourself!”

A giant crash made them jump, followed by the enraged roar of something bestial and in pain. Elusive had pulled his trick, and now they had no time.

“Now,” Rainbow said, dragging Dusk along. Canterlot was a tomb that happily ate up the noise of their hooves and ragged breathing as they drew closer to the center of the castle. Dusk’s mind reeled, sifting through the pieces of his eroding sanity. A terrible sense of anticipation pressed in from all around the further they went, an inevitability that only became more obvious with every corner they turned. It was a sense of doom.

All the while a voice teased at the edges of Dusk’s mind, prowling a gleeful circle around the last remnants of his shattered psyche. It watched with grinning bared teeth while Dusk struggled to make sense of so much pain. It wheedled him, leered at him, knelt down and laughed right in his face as his limbs grew heavier and his emotions piled on burdens of guilt and remorse.

All Dusk could do was limp onward, right into the horror’s embrace.

Please, just let it all be over.

Yes, the voice purred. It will all be over soon, Dusk.

Come to us. We are reaching the climax now: the part where the heroes can never go back. You’re running straight into my grasp, Dusk, because you know you can’t do anything else. You are so close now, so close to bringing it all to an end. Your story will find resolution, and then you can rest forever.

Come to me.

Come and give me everything.

> Nadir
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight’s friends never understood her. She hated that about them. She remembered all the times she had tried to be the voice of clarity, the voice of reason in the group, all the time she’d spent trying to just organize their lives and makes things smoother, better, more efficient. Applejack had been so stubborn. Rarity too. Pinkie Pie especially.

She especially hated Pinkie Pie. The time she had tried to figure her out, only for her to just brush off every attempt she made to make the world just that much more orderly. That was what Celestia wanted, wasn’t it? That was why she controlled the Sun and its motions through the sky, dictating every facet of life across the planet. But she had the nerve, the sheer, unmitigated temerity to accept one of Twilight’s stupid little letters about how sometimes you just had to trust. If Celestia was any real kind of ruler, she would have told Twilight how wrong she was. Celestia wasn’t about trust. She was about getting control and keeping it for as long as possible.

It was easy, wasn’t it, for an immortal to stay in infinite control? Ultimately, that was what Twilight wanted. To have perfect, total power over any given situation. She was Celestia’s faithful student, after all. And now Celestia would see how far she’d come.

But Applejack and Rarity stood in her way, barring her passage at the bottom of Canterlot’s mountain path.

“We ain’t lettin’ you go any further,” Applejack said in that inimitable, immovable way of hers. She stood strong, her legs ramrod straight as her hooves pressed into the earth, digging into the gravel at the base of the path. “This all ends here, Twilight. Ya gotta stop an’ come home, now.”

“I am going home,” Twilight whispered, her voice as light as the breeze. “Up there is my home. I wasn’t born in Ponyville. I wasn’t even born in Canterlot. I was born in the light of stars, and my bones are made of dreams.”

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re on about,” Rarity said, lifting her chin, “but something has gone to your head. And we will make it right. By Celestia, we will—”

She was thrown back by a blast of magic from Twilight’s horn, crashing onto the slope behind her. She bounced off the packed dirt and rolled up the path, coming to a stop on her belly.

Applejack was already charging her, throwing a lasso she procured from under her hat. Twilight sighed and enveloped the rope in her magic before throwing it right back, looping it between Applejack’s hooves. The noose tightened, halting her gallop and sending her flopping to the ground.

“I defeated an entire company of royal guards just on the way here,” Twilight murmured, waving her hoof about. The rope followed her motions, pulling Applejack into the air and making her dance like a marionette. “That’s almost a hundred ponies who have trained their entire lives. What did you expect? And where’s Rainbow Dash?”

“Makin’ sure Pinkie an’ Fluttershy are all right, no thanks ta’ you!” Applejack sneered. “It ain’t right what you’re doin’, Twilight! We’re gonna stop ya if it’s the last thing we—huuaaa!”

Twilight twisted her hoof. The rope spun once and snapped, sending Applejack hurtling towards the solid base of Canterlot Mountain. Just before her back cracked into the rock she was enveloped by shimmering blue and let gently down. The rope came undone, twirling to Rarity’s side.

“I warn you, Twilight,” she whispered, “I am no expert wizard, but I can hold my own in a magical duel. It was all the rage in Canterlot not long ago. I’ve kept up on the latest tactics.”

Twilight laughed harshly, her voice scratching her throat as she growled at Rarity. “You’re not fighting Twilight, Rarity. You’re fighting Magic itself. The power of creation and annihilation flows through me even as we speak. There’s nothing you can do to impede me. I haven’t obliterated this entire landscape because I simply chose not to.”

Rarity sniffed, as imperious as any highborn lady of Canterlot. Her face distorted into a grimace as her horn sparked, and a second layer of magical power encased her horn. From all around Twilight, the ground split apart and lifted up like the opening of a great maw, then angled inward and snapped shut around her head, swallowing her whole. Inside the mound of dirt, Twilight sighed and flicked her head to the side. Earth and rock blew outward in all directions, forcing Applejack to cover her head and Rarity to throw up a shield. Rarity’s face betrayed little more than inconvenienced surprise. 

Twilight smiled. “You always did have an eye for imperfection. Using the tiny cracks and faults in the rock to lift it all up and try to imprison me... unoriginal, but impressive for a unicorn of your level.”

She wiped some dirt from her shoulder. “Now watch this.”

Her broken horn snapped and hissed as magic shot from the stump. It hurtled towards Rarity, who strengthened her shield as much as she could. Twilight’s magic split apart just before impact and slammed into the barrier from a multitude of directions, overwhelming Rarity’s focus. Any unicorn could put as much of their energy as they could into a single point. Not every unicorn could spread their attention in so many directions, and even fewer could hold so many directions in equal strength.

Rarity’s shield popped like a soap bubble. Beams of light struck the frail unicorn and jolted her with the impact, lifting her off her hooves as searing heat and freezing cold bit into her skin from all around. Rarity was too shocked to scream, her mouth quivering with inaudible gasps of shock and pain as she was driven into the ground and her face was crushed into the dirt. Applejack did that for her, screaming her name as she barreled into Twilight, but her headlong charge was stopped dead short. She scrunched inward like an accordion and flopped onto her back, gasping for breath as she clutched her shoulder. It must have been dislocated after striking the magical barrier Twilight had thrown up just before impact.

“Silly ponies,” Twilight whispered. “None of you know what you’re up against.”

She wrapped them up in her magic and whisked them away in a flash, reappearing further up the path. They were about halfway to Canterlot, standing near the edge of the cliff. Rarity, still struggling and whimpering in Twilight’s grip, tried to hit her with a defiant burst of magic. It plinked off Twilight’s chest. Twilight sighed and threw Rarity against the side of the mountain, letting her drop to the ground with a bleeding gash in her forehead.

Then she turned to Applejack, who had a hoof around her leg and tried to pull her down.

“Not gonna... let you...” she grunted. Twilight ignored her and wrapped her magic around Applejack’s throat, dragging her slowly, ominously to the edge of the path. Applejack’s three working limbs dug furrow into the dirt, her breathing coming in short, quick gasps as the ledge came closer.

“Twi... Twi, please...” she squeaked through her constricted windpipe. “Twi, I’m your friend... it’s me, Applejack!”

Twilight pulled her to the edge, letting her front half dangle over a drop hundreds of hooves high. All she had to do was release her and Applejack would plummet. Applejack’s muscles were tight and rigid, pressing her hooves into the dirt in a last-ditch effort to keep from falling. Her eyes looked up at Twilight, glittering with tears.

“Twilight... please... I’m scared of heights!”

Twilight lifted Applejack and dangled her in the open air. She liked the way Applejack’s eyes bugged out as her grip tightened.
 
“This is control,” Twilight whispered to herself. “You hear me? This is how to stop a pony from doing something you don’t want them to.”

“T... Twilight!” Applejack wheezed, gagging on her own choking breaths. “Sugarcube, please!”

“Celestia just keeps throwing you ponies at me,” Twilight sneered. “She has no respect for me at all, does she? She spent so long dictating the actions of others all she can do is use others as a shield when she starts losing. Why do you suppose she does that, Applejack? Whenever Equestria faced a real crisis, why were we the ones to pull her flank out of the fire?”

Applejack couldn’t answer, of course. She was too busy clawing at her throat with her one working forelimb, uselessly bucking the air with her hind legs. Twilight answered her own question, airily.

“Because she doesn’t really know what control is. She doesn’t really know what it means to take another pony’s life into her hooves and mold it to her will. She might have tried with me—and to an extent, all of Equestria—but she can never really get it right.”

She grinned, glancing up at Canterlot, still far above them.

“But I will.”

She looked back down to the ground, equally far below.

“I could drop you, you know. But I won’t. That’s me being in control.”

“If you won’t kill me,” Applejack gasped, “then there’s somethin’ of you left in there, Twilight! Y—you gotta... haack! Listen to me!”

“No. I don’t listen to anypony anymore. I write my own stories now. And soon, when the Elements are mine, all of you will be powerless to stop me. And the world will be just the way I want it to be.”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed, sheer grit letting her show her anger through the pain. “You ain’t gonna win! Twi... won’t... let you!”

“She already did. Now if you don’t mind, I need to—”

She stopped short as a blue blur slashed through her vision, scooping up Applejack and disappearing around the bend. Twilight watched the empty air, listening to another bullet-zip swoop behind her and carry Rarity away, leaving a distant sonic boom in its wake. She smiled.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” said Twilight. “See if you can catch me.” She turned back to Canterlot, and in a flash of purple light, she was gone.

----------------------

Twilight Sparkle crossed the gap between inactivity and initiative in the distance of a single step. She disappeared from her own mind’s eye and fell back out into the middle of her own consciousness. She was herself and every single part of Twilight around her, keenly aware of her own form within her head, and yet felt just as present inside every neuron and flash of emotion, every whim and fancy that crossed her mind. Color and emotion and light bled together, creating a cacophonous, swirling landscape of fractal edges and swirling shapes. She stood on the edge of it and couldn’t see where it ended. She had no form and knew she was everything here. 

A sound like a discordant horn tore through the mindscape. The lights and colors were torn apart by fire, expanding out in massive holes like a melting film strip. She was falling apart at the seams. Willing herself to close her eyes, she consolidated everything she was and brought it into herself. It rushed inward and became her until she knew everything she could have grabbed had been, and disappeared into herself.

She found herself in the middle of an infinitude of space that stretched as far as her own willpower could take it. It seemed dark, but that was only the darkness of empty space, of potential energy and incubative waiting. If it was darkness, it was the darkness of her own mind. So why did it feel so cold and unfamiliar? Why did nothing happen when Twilight cast out her thoughts to impress themselves on the mindscape?

“So this is what the inside of my head really looks like?” she said with some indifference, hiding her anxiety behind petulance. “How... dull.”

Magic, now deep within Twilight, agreed with her quietly. Her mind had been a beautiful place, once. Now it was nothing but the great blank space wandered by the little purple unicorn. They didn’t have much time left.

She walked on and on into the void that never came closer and never went further, eventually reaching a raised dais of some kind, made of polished marble. She put her hoof on it with a quiet click, and then a gong rang through the darkness. A semi-circle of light expanded out from where her hoof touched the stone, guiding her eyes as it hurtled out towards a pure white marble throne, imposed over the blackness. Upon the throne was a dark shape, quiet and brooding. Its jet black body sat in leisurely repose with its slender limbs stretched over the arms of the throne. As Twilight walked closer, more details came into focus: the long horn sprouting from its head, the shroud of mist in place of a mane and tail, almost disappearing into the background except for the twinkling of stars inside of it.

“Nightmare Moon,” Twilight said across the distance between them. The alicorn smiled lazily and turned her head to Twilight, regarding her with a coy, knowing look.

“That’s one of my many names,” she purred. “Come closer, won’t you?”

Twilight trotted up to the throne, standing before it and glaring up at the dark alicorn. “It’s over,” she said. “It’s all over now. I’ve won. Magic is on my side and I’m not giving up anymore of myself to you. You took advantage of a moment of weakness. That moment is over.”

Nightmare yawned. Twilight stepped forward again. “Are you listening? You’re beaten, Nightmare! I’ve found you and now it’s time to kick you out of here! This is my mind!”

“Our mind,” Nightmare retorted. “This is it, Twilight. This is the last refuge. Your final redoubt. And even here, you find me.”

“I’d find you anywhere,” Twilight said quietly. “You’re fear. Fear is in everypony’s mind, no matter who they are or how powerful. You’re the things that we all worry about. You used that against me.”

“And here I am!” Nightmare crowed, turning over onto her back and throwing a hoof into the air. “Look, Twilight! Look at how thoroughly you have lost! This is your mind, and all you can think of is you... and me.”

“No,” Twilight said, shaking her head, “that’s not all. I did a lot of thinking after you left me. I realized was scared. I was so scared of being rejected by Celestia and my friends. I was scared of what being me really meant. Most of all I was scared that all I’d learned might have been mistaken. Celestia was always the one who taught me, molded me, told me how the world worked, and so she became my world. I’d been disappointed by all my friends at least once, and I disappointed them too. Celestia never once let me down. She always knew what to do, and had faith I would if she didn’t. I knew one day she’d fail me, too. Everything I learned pointed to that possibility. But like a child, I ran away from it and wanted everything to say safe and sterile. All my adventures were a distraction from those thoughts, and every time I got to the end she was there to congratulate me, to tell me I was one step closer to being who she wanted me to be. I came so far I’d convinced myself my fear just wasn’t there anymore. And then you came... and Celestia told me those terrible things...”

She trailed off and felt Nightmare’s cunning stare burn into her. “And then all those fears came rushing back, and I didn’t know what to do with them. I ran from them. I let them take control. ” She looked back up at Nightmare, her stance firm and defiant. “But I know what I want now. Celestia kept a lot of secrets from me, but even if those secrets are painful, I want them to come out. I want to be a part of them! I want to know and love ponies for who they are, not just what I’ve been told about them! I want to know the truth and live it with my friends! Otherwise what’s the point? The truth hurts. It’s like when I used to cry about getting shots. I didn’t want the pain of a vaccination, I just wanted to never get sick. But I’ve grown, Nightmare. I know life isn’t without pain, even in the places you never thought it would be. I’m finally ready to accept that pain, wholly and without regrets. I’m ready to start living.” 

Nightmare leaned back, her expression inscrutable, and Twilight took another daring step towards the throne. She matched the dark alicorn’s gaze; unfathomable cruelty colliding with unshakable resolution.

Nightmare smiled and uncoiled her front legs. Her hooves drifted to the floor, resting on the marble. One after the other, she brought them up and rapped them down, again and again, in slow applause.

“Bravo, Twilight Sparkle. Bravo. You’ve done just what I hoped you would.”

Twilight felt the cold chill of shock run down her spine. Magic recoiled inside her, ready for anything. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that your being here, facing me in one last climactic showdown, is exactly what I intended. It’s how these stories work, Twilight! You played your role to the tee without even realizing it. Perhaps you should’ve read more Daring Do along with your precious textbooks.”

“The story’s not over!” Twilight shot back. “Your power means nothing until you take every part of me! And I won’t let you take this.”

Nightmare huffed, blasting twin jets of steam from her nostrils. “You do not know yourself as well as you think. I’ve obliterated every piece of your mind there is left to run to. Everything you have left, everything you are, is standing before me right now. Your resolution, your bravery, your magic: all of it is wrapped up in one soft, bite-sized package. It took everything you have to face me without fear, and that everything is standing right in front of me, ready for my embrace.” A conceited smile creased Nightmare’s features as she stepped the rest of the way off the throne, standing tall over Twilight. “All you have done is brought me everything left for me to destroy. And when you are gone there will be nothing left here but me.”

Her wings snapped open to their full extent and the entire landscape changed. All around Twilight old stone columns sprang up and vines crawled over them, the dais became a broken stone floor, and an arched ceiling stretched overhead. Nightmare’s throne stretched and warped until it became a six-armed pedestal, and at her hooves appeared five stone spheres with gem-shaped slots carved out of them. Outside the broken windows was the endless twilight of a night sky.

Nightmare placed her hoof on one of the spheres and sighed happily. “Remember this, Twilight? It’s where you beat me before. I can’t have the real thing, but I don’t think the irony will escape you. It will please me greatly to lay the memory of your death over that of my defeat.”

Twilight scraped her hoof on the ground, kicking up dust. “You’re just as arrogant as the first time.”

“No more than you, swaggering into my throne room. I wanted this, Twilight. I wanted you to come in righteous indignation, ready for the last battle. I wanted you to know that all your hope, all your dreams and aspirations and willpower, your very soul was not enough to defeat me.” She took a deep breath, savoring the moment, and when she looked at Twilight again, her stare made Twilight shiver. “Now come to me, Twilight. Come and give me everything.”

Twilight started at a slow jog, pointing her shattered horn at Nightmare’s throat, quickly building into a furious gallop. Magic resonated inside of her, pulsing with raw power. There were no spells, because the Nightmare had eaten all of those. There were no strategies, because this was no battle simple tactics could win. There was nothing but Twilight and Nightmare, who lowered her own head and charged. Twilight had nowhere to reach into for extra strength, no reserves, no well of power in her spirit, because her spirit was right here. There wasn’t even a hope that all she had was enough. Just movement and action and the last thought she would ever have: that the Nightmare would not win.

Twilight didn’t flinch as Nightmare bared her fangs. She just narrowed her eyes and pushed her legs that much harder into a flat-out sprint. She didn’t even blink when Nightmare’s jaws suddenly opened wide, wider, and then wider still until they were big enough to swallow her whole. Twilight saw herself in those precious few moments before impact, stripped of everything but the will to fight and survive. A bright glow sprang from her horn and quickly worked its way all around her body until she was a shooting star, flinging itself into the maw of darkness.

As the void closed in around her and Nightmare’s jaws snapped shut, Twilight did not deviate. She charged ever onwards, down, down into the dark, spreading her light as far and strong as she could, until she was lost to her own sight, and the last glimmer of herself was gone.

-----------

It hadn’t been terribly hard, making her way through Canterlot. Ponies who got in her way were thrown to one side or just scattered out of fear. The Royal Guardponies who came to the defense of the city were easily paralyzed. Half the city was behind her with a single teleport. Another battalion of guardponies, another bored yawn, and they were all in various states of incapacitation. She blinked, and an entire platoon of pegasi fell to the ground with wings that snapped shut and refused to open again. She sighed, and another clump was encased to their necks in solid earth. Unicorns with horns turned limp, earthponies stopped dead when their legs froze up and refused to obey. She didn’t want to kill them, and so she just stopped them in place and blinked to the next part of the castle, seeking the siren call of the Elements of Harmony. Death had no place near her. Outright slaughter was beneath Magic, which was an inherently creative force. It was made of life and had to be ordered to deal out death. No, she would be a kind ruler. Much more kind than Celestia. Everywhere they came at her, and everywhere she stopped them with a simple flick of a cosmic switch.

This was a display of power. Of control. It was a display of truth that even Celestia hid from: that she had power and had been afraid to use it. But no more.

Rainbow Dash was behind her every step of the way. It was impressive, seeing her show up just seconds after she teleported across the city. She was only able to get a fragment of a sentence out before Twilight was gone again, and then she would appear once more, a blazing blur of color at the edge of Twilight’s vision the moment she was finished dispatching the next clump of ponies who tried to get in her way.

At one point, she got bored with Rainbow’s ceaseless pursuit, and simply put up a wall right in front of her. She didn’t stay to see if it worked.

She appeared in Celestia’s throne room, which doubled as Luna’s when night came. Upon seeing her, bewildered court ponies fled for their lives or stood still from stark terror. Knowing she had all the time in the world now that there was nopony with the power to stop her, Twilight tore the throne from its place and crushed it in her magical grip, reducing it to a fine powder. It was a childish thing to do, but Twilight could be afforded the luxury of spite after all she’d been through.

Expending as much energy as it took to breathe, she appeared in the Hall of Harmony, standing before the door that housed the Elements. Their siren call was a deafening shriek in her ears It would be so easy from here. Almost boring. What test of skill, what drive was there for a near-god to have when there was nothing that could defy her?

Well, remaking the entire world, to start.

Celestia wasn’t here. Luna wasn’t here. There would be no final clash, then. No great battle to decide the fate of Canterlot. That was fine. She didn’t want the city too banged up for her purposes.

Before she could go further, a sound split the sky.  A tremendous boom followed by a massive crash made the entire building shudder. Twilight turned to one of the stained glass windows, smashing a vase through it to see outside. She just caught the remnants of a rainbow trailing to the horizon, blazing outward from some unseen point. The rumbling grew louder, and layered over that was the sound of something more shrill and unfocused.

It was a pony’s voice.

Twilight muttered to herself as she was able to make out the words, drawn out and spoken with equal measures vehemence and desperation.

“TWILIGHT!!!”

The ceiling exploded.

---------------

Dusk didn’t want to believe it at first. There was no way it was that easy. The Nightmare hadn’t killed them, Applejack hadn’t caught them, the world hadn’t fallen apart, and now here they stood in front of the door that led to their salvation. It stood at the end of the hall as if it had waited for ten thousand years. The once vibrant paint illustrating the somber, magical designs were now faded and cracked. The walls were pitted and overgrown with dead vines. In the middle of the door was the keyhole, waiting for a horn, his horn. The dark speck seemed to beckon him, urging him on to some unforeseen doom. Nothing felt real to Dusk, nor did it feel right. He walked the length of the hall in silence, penitent. All of his friends—all of Equestria—had died so he could open a door. The crushing weight of so much responsibility hung over him like a shroud, and every tentative step brought him closer to the point where it dropped and dragged him down. The click of his hooves on the marble floor tickled his ears, teasing him with the enormity of the silence around them. It enveloped all of Equestria now, and outside the stained glass windows he saw nothing but darkness all around. Dusk had the distinct feeling that something was watching through those windows; an invisible audience that waited, baited breath and all, for the climax to this sordid tale.

“This is it?” Rainbow asked next to him, and though he whispered the silence was such that his voice thundered in Dusk’s ears. “This is what saves the world?”

Rainbow approached the door with a heavy limp, trying to move his wings as little as possible. Most of the feathers had fallen off by now, and all that was left were a few long primaries that shivered at the slightest bump, ready to drop.

“I don’t know,” Dusk whispered. “I don’t know anything anymore, Rainbow.”

“Don’t start with that,” Rainbow said. “Just don’t, Dusk. This is it, okay? This is what ends it all..”

Dusk felt numb. His movements felt scripted and automatic, like an actor in a play. That was all this really was, wasn’t it? The Nightmare kept calling this a story, and they were near the logical end. He just had to keep his hope up that the Nightmare was wrong and that it couldn’t stop the Elements once they were in Dusk’s hooves.

He covered half the distance in silence, moving slower as he neared the door. A wall of uncertainty hit him like a wave, pushing against him and making him want to turn back. What if the Elements really didn’t work? What if his broken horn didn’t unlock the door? Then what? He walked through the cloud of questions, keeping his eyes on the small hole in the center of the doorway, aiming his horn to it as surely as it had a tether attached.

Rainbow stood next to him, wheezing. “That’s it, Dusk. That’s it. Just a few more steps. Come on, come on, this has to work, please let it work...”

He fell away at the last few feet, leaving Dusk to complete the task alone. Rainbow’s hushed pleading was soon drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in Dusk’s ears, growing louder and louder the closer he got to the door. Just a few more steps now and everything would be all right.

This is really it, he thought. But why doesn’t it feel like winning?

He stood in front of the door. It stared back, nonplussed and unobtrusive, with no inkling that it was the key to saving the world. The inanimate mechanisms keeping him from the Elements were similarly indifferent, moving only when told to and stopping when they had to.

Is that all this was? Me going through the motions and waiting to reach my proper place? Nothing I’ve done has made a difference so far. Why would that change now?

The image of a mare with his cutie mark flashed in front of his eyes. It didn’t matter what he believed or wanted. It only mattered that he got to see her one last time. He put his forehead on the door, letting his horn stump rest just above the hole.

He felt the pressure of the horn against the stone, but nothing else. Gently, he dragged his horn down the door until it caught on the edge of the hole, and with a final, resigned sigh, pushed inward.

To his surprise, his horn started to glow. More than that, it projected magic into the door, feeding it into the runes carved into the keyhole, drawing power from the sigils and channels weaved into the very stone. Spiderwebs of lavender light were flung in every direction, prompting the door to shudder, rumble, and move. Dusk fell onto his haunches, his mouth dropping open. It couldn’t be that easy. It couldn’t!

But the door continued to groan and grumble, swinging outward with slow, deliberate aplomb. Dusk stood on shaking hooves and walked into the fog of magic dispersing from the door’s hinges. He stepped into the light-struck mist, peering into the room beyond.

On a small pedestal there rested a box. The box was decorated with the gems that each Element represented, teasing him with a façade of hope. There was no lock. It just waited for him to open it.

Dusk stepped forward, accelerating to a slow jog, and then he was running to the box, snatching it up and clutching it to his chest. His vision tunneled, blurred by tears. His chest tightened and his vision narrowed. He caressed the majestic curves of the lid and touched the latch, pulling it open with slow reverence.

Inside sat all six Elements of Harmony, patiently awaiting their Bearers. They stung Dusk’s eyes with their untarnished beauty, glimmering with an inner light that peeked up at him like the sparkling eyes of a newborn foal.

“Rainbow!” he sobbed, holding the box up to the pegasus. “Rainbow, look! They’re here! They’re really here!”

Rainbow let out a breath, and all his strength went with it. His shoulders drooped and his head dipped low. “That’s... that’s great, Dusk,” he said in a broken, trembling voice. “That’s really great.”

“We can do it now! We can save them! We can save everypony!”

“We just need to make them work,” Rainbow added with a dull smile. Dusk nodded frantically, jarring his own skull as he waggled his head up and down.

“Yes, we can do it. We can still do it! We just need a moment to think about it, and then the Elements will answer us like before. All we need is—is...”

He stopped short as he saw the shadow creeping up behind Rainbow, who was utterly unaware. “Yeah,” said the pegasus, still wearing a sad, exhausted smile. “We really did it, didn’t we Dusk?”

Dusk’s happy grin melted away. His eye twitched as the shadow ballooned to thrice Rainbow’s size, looming over him. From the darkness an equine head emerged, eyes fire-red sunk into its skull, pitiless and imperial. An array of sharp spikes formed out of the Nightmare’s body, aiming straight down. Dusk opened his mouth, and the Nightmare lunged forward.

“Dusk, I want you to know,” said Rainbow, “even if this doesn’t work... I’m glad we made it.”

“Rainbow,” Dusk said in a raspy, too quiet voice. Too quiet for Rainbow to hear the urgency in it, too quiet to warn him—

The first spike plunged between Rainbow's shoulder blades, erupting out of his chest in a spray of blood and something else that wasn’t quite blood.

Rainbow looked down, transfixed by the shadowy instrument. His jaw bobbed up and down.

“What?” he asked. “What?”

More deadly tendrils came down, sliding through flesh and bone as easily as a hoof dipping into a pond, each blow punctuated by a quiet, drawn-out moan from Rainbow. The pegasus stood wide-eyed, uncomprehending as the Nightmare callously twisted its tendrils and brought the impaled pony up, displaying him as a gruesome trophy.

Dusk didn’t move. He didn’t fight. He didn’t know how, as if all the knowledge and motivation was suddenly sucked out of him. The feeling of distance and dissociation grew and grew until he was miles away, reading it all in a storybook while huddled under the sheets of his bed, separated from the horrible sight by ages.

He saw the Nightmare give him a sick, scornful smirk. Rainbow twitched, looking down at Dusk. His pupils were constricted, dancing with mortal terror.

“Dusk,” he croaked, “r... ru—”

The array of spikes twisted in unison, pulling apart in every direction. Rainbow’s body stretched for an eerie, awful instant, and then scattered apart. There was a sharp ripping noise like parchment and a burst of explosive noise like a fireball suddenly erupting before snuffing itself out. Rainbow’s body blew away like a pile of leaves caught by a strong gust, falling apart from the inside out into dust that glowed for a brief, beautiful moment with golden light before turning to dull, muddy ash. Dusk caught the shortest glimpse of Rainbow’s limbs and tail, still reaching, twitching, grasping for life for one moment more, and then all of him was gone.

Dusk stared at the settling cloud of embers that used to be his friend.

He dropped to his knees and screamed.

It was a long, drawn-out cry of primal grief and denial that shredded his vocal chords and squeezed his lungs painfully for every last drop of breath, and when that was spent reached even further to pluck out pieces of him he didn’t know existed. In that scream he demanded with every fiber of his being, every last bit of life he had left that Rainbow be brought back right now, that the Nightmare not be given its victory so easily, that time itself be turned back, for his horn to work right so he could turn back time. 

But then his scream trailed off into a quiet, choking croak, and then to nothing. And when he was done Rainbow was still dead, and the Nightmare still stood before him, smiling.

The Nightmare tilted its head. “I win.”

Dusk watched Rainbow’s ashes settle on the floor and scrabbled to reach them, gathering them up in his hooves. He wheezed and grunted incoherent words, cradling the remains to his chest.

Chuckling, the Nightmare paced a slow, steady circle around Dusk, its ethereal hooves making no sound on the marble floor. Wispy black tendrils trailed over Dusk’s neck and mane, teasing, gloating. Dusk didn’t hear the Nightmare’s taunts. He just stared straight ahead as tears leaked in a slow, steady stream from his eyes like an open faucet.

“I did everything I said I would. All is as it was written. This story was never yours, Dusk. Do you see it yet? Do you see how utterly pointless your existence is?”

Dusk started to stand, still holding what he could of Rainbow to his chest as he turned back to the Elements of Harmony. The Nightmare was a step ahead of him, gripping it with magic and turning the box bottom-up. The Elements clattered to the ground. The noise was like a death knell to Dusk’s ears. He reached out with his magic, but his horn sputtered.

“No,” he whispered. “No. Not yet.”

He darted for the Elements, trying to grab them with his bare hooves. They slid just out of his reach. The Nightmare stood over him and grinned.

“These old things? You want them?”

“They’ll never let themselves be destroyed by you!” Dusk screamed through his raw throat. “Give them to me! They’ll answer me! They have to!”

He looked up at the Elements and thought of his friends and all they’d sacrificed to get this far. The Elements did nothing.

“Work!” he shouted. “Work!”

The Nightmare dropped them to the ground again. The clatter sent a knife into Dusk’s heart. The Elements didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

“Stop,” he told the Nightmare. It raised its hoof.

“Stop,” Dusk said again, his tinged with more desperation. “I said stop!”

The Nightmare’s hoof came down on the Element of Magic. There was no retaliatory blast of power, no righteous fury that said the Nightmare wasn’t allowed to kill the hope of Equestria. Just a single, solitary crunch. The Nightmare raised the other Elements in its magic, and without any visible effort, crushed them into fine shards. The fragments scattered over the floor.

“I warned you, Dusk. I warned you that your story would find its end here, and yet you rushed ever onward, hoping against hope that I was wrong. It is this moment I always savor. The time when those who sought to fight me finally see the truth: there is no victory in this world. There is no altering your fate. There is only me. I am everything, and I say that I am triumphant.”

The Nightmare leaned down, coiling its neck around Dusk as the unicorn blindly scrabbled around, trying to scrounge together as much of the Elements as he could. A silver-edged blade came to rest against Dusk’s neck, and he froze. The Nightmare puts its mouth right next to Dusk’s ear, whispering to him quietly, intimately.

“Every story comes to an end, Dusk. And now... so does yours.”

The blade pressed against his throat, hard enough that he felt it cut into his skin. A line of agony split open his neck, and Dusk was aware of the cold metal just starting to sever the important bits underneath.

Something snapped inside of him. He felt a low rumble and three concussive blasts, and was vaguely aware of everything around suddenly being blown away, save for what was left of Rainbow’s ashes. The keen edge of the blade left his throat, along with the cloying closeness of the Nightmare. He felt his horn come alive, buzzing with power like a lightning rod that just caught a thunderbolt, and then released all that energy in a series of rapidfire bursts.

He turned back and saw the Nightmare surge away from him, its mass heaving and distorting as it boiled with angry noises and aimless flailing. Abruptly, the whirlwind of movement ceased, and the dark alicorn rose from it again, staring down the now glowing unicorn. But the sudden surge of power did nothing to abate its hunger or its rage. In fact, it looked even happier now than before.

“Yes, yes, yes!” it crowed. “That’s how it must be! Give it to me, Dusk! Give me everything you have! The anger, the fear, let it all be consumed by the darkness until you are nothing!”

Wordlessly, Dusk looked down at the ashes in his hooves. Slowly, his hooves parted, and the ashes fell in a gentle shower, scattering across the floor. The hurricane noise of his out of control magic was utterly silent to him as he watched the last vestiges of Rainbow Blitz drift away.

I’m sorry, he whispered in his mind. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save anypony. I couldn’t save Equestria. I’m sorry, Solaris. Your student finally failed you.

He looked up at the Nightmare, its inky black mane flowing, wings outstretched until they nearly spanned the width of the hall.

But I’m sure as hay going to take this monster with me.

He planted all four of his hooves on the ground and pawed at the stone The Nightmare threw back its head and laughed.

“Oh, but this does take me back! What a wonderful way to end this story: it ends as it began. Now let us put the finishing touches on our tale!”

“Yes,” Dusk said. “Let’s.” 

He had no control of his magic. He had no repertoire of spells to access. He had virtually nothing left. But he did have his memories driving him forward, and his hooves, and his teeth. It would have to do. Dusk lowered his head, and the Nightmare answered in kind, presenting a long horn that sharpened itself to a fine point. 

Dusk and the Nightmare charged in unison. There were no final revelations for Dusk. His life did not flash before his eyes. There was no lingering feeling of regret or sorrow. There was nothing left but this final act of defiance. The Nightmare loomed up faster than he thought it would, larger than life, and then there was no time left and their final collision was upon them.

In the millimeter left between their horns, there was a spark.
> Peripeteia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight raged against the sluggishness of her limbs. Something had struck from the sky and thrown her to the ground, and considering the vast power at her disposal, the thought was downright insulting. Pain surged through her body, and in her anger she blasted everything around her with kinetic force, hoping to get rid of whatever might be coming at her in her moment of weakness. She twitched a limb and forced herself to roll on her belly, noting the cracks in the floor and the concave depression that raised its edges around her ears. 

When she opened her eyes her vision was distorted by a golden shroud. Her ears rang, but voices swam through the pea-soup that enveloped her head.

Is she all right?

Will she come back?

Can it work?

I don’t know, my little ponies.

Her vision snapped back into focus. She was still in the Hall of the Elements. The gold shroud was a magical field surrounding her like a fog. It shimmered and twinkled, and when she tried to move her leg through it she felt exhausted and weighed down. The fog held her tight, wrapped around her face like a mask. Another cage. Well, that was easy enough to break. She just had to concentrate. She closed her eyes and prepared a counterspell.

It fizzled before it even reached the stump of her horn.

“What is this?” she murmured, her lips feeling strangely parched and sticky.

Through the fog she saw five shadows standing before her. Five familiar lights glowed around their necks.

“No,” she rasped, and reached down to find the strength to fight her way out. “Not again. I won’t be defeated again.”

“That Sonic Rainboom brought you down easy enough,” said Rainbow Dash. Her voice was muffled and indistinct through the fog. “You didn’t think we’d just lay down and die, did you?”

“You may have broken Twilight,” cut in Rarity, “but the rest of us are far from beaten.”

“Twilight might be able to beat us if she tried,” Fluttershy whispered, her voice still somehow so clear through the heavy fog, “but you aren’t Twilight.”

“Not by a long shot,” said Pinkie Pie. “But that means we don’t have to feel sorry about kicking your meanie-flank from here to Vanhoover.”

“We know what you are now,” said Applejack. “You’re nothin’ but lies. An’ the truth beats a lie every time.”

“For all your vast power, it is centered around fear,” said Celestia. “And when the victim of that fear turns to confront it, you have no choice but to give way.” The Nightmare inside Twilight roared its defiance. It almost deafened her to Celestia’s next words.

“You are not the true power within Twilight. You will never truly control her. You could only ever make her think you did.” 

“You don’t know me! I am Twilight Sparkle! You cannot get her back because she is already here!”

Celestia’s shadow tilted her head. “If you have already won, you wouldn’t need to tell yourself that.”

Twilight’s eye twitched. Celestia’s voice dropped in pitch as her silhouette leaned closer.

“She is already fighting back.”

Celestia stepped away until she vanished into the fog, letting the other five step forward.

“Do what must be done.”

---------------------------

Dusk Shine opened his eyes, which surprised him because he didn’t remember closing them. The last thing he saw was the form of the Nightmare, its grinning face rushing at him from the end of the hall, its horn ready to plunge into his skull and rip out his life. But then there had been something, a stumble or a flash or some distracting sound, and he blinked.

Then he was here.

But here was not anywhere he knew. His hooves didn’t impact any floor when he walked, and yet he walked. His lungs didn’t fill with air when he breathed, and yet he breathed.

There were shadows all around, but that implied there used to be light.

He felt alone; worse than alone. “Alone” meant he could find another pony to alleviate his loneliness. This place made him feel like the only being in all reality. Perhaps that was truer than he thought. But if this place really was from his dreams, then where was she?

He didn’t feel the insistent tug of her presence, begging to be seen. He didn’t see her perfect form standing tantalizingly close. He wasn’t even sure he was still alive. But dead things didn’t wonder if they were dead.

He took a step forward, willing to make himself feel it, then another, and then another. He gradually regained the sensation—or rather the idea—that he was walking on solid ground, and ventured further into the darkness.

If this is what death is like, he thought to himself, I can’t say I’m sure what the point of living is.

Things brushed against his legs in the dark, some hard and some pliable, but he ignored them. All that was important was moving. With nopony and nothing around to give him a point of reference, he was free to decide which way he was going.

With that in mind, Dusk decided he was going forward.

He touched on things that seemed familiar: a book, an idea, a feeling. He swam through bogs of melancholy and climbed hills of adversity, but when he was done he didn’t feel like he’d gotten any further than when he started. And he was still alone. He knew, intellectually, that the Nightmare had apparently won and his world was now dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything besides a hollow resignation. He was at the end of himself, and was only ambivalently curious about his new circumstances.

“Where am I?” he asked, and he was surprised to hear his own voice.

“Wherever you want to be.”

He spun around, gasping. It wasn’t the sound that surprised him, but the quality of it. It was clearer than any silver bell, gentler than the way his mother sang him to sleep. It reminded him of every word he’d never said, the ones that died on his lips and were lost forever. The voice pulled at his spirit and forced him to take notice.

She stood there, her back to him. His cutie mark—no, hers—stood out with perfect clarity on her flank, drawing his eye and growing greater in size and importance until he forced them shut, left with a sense of reeling vertigo. It was true. It was all true. He didn’t question if he was seeing things because he knew she was here, as amazing as he’d always dreamed. This wasn’t the monster he’d seen before, but a mare who was composed of everything good and true and right. This time, he knew for certain everything would be all right.

He saw her start to turn and shut his eyes again, holding the wonderful snapshot in his mind for as long as he could. Somehow it didn’t seem fair that he should see her face before she could see his. When he opened his eyes she faced him fully, and he was seized with an inexplicable terror and actually turned to run, but she made a soft sound that stopped him dead in his tracks. With fear and trembling he turned back to her, and her smile made his knees go weak.

“So,” she said. “Here you are.”

“I am,” he rasped, and only then, compared to her wonderful voice, did he notice he sounded weak and frail. It was an old pony’s voice, full of regret and scratchy from too much use.

“We’re finally together,” she said in voice as smooth as a whispering stream. He shuddered and sighed longingly. “We met once before, but that was a different time. A different me. Now it’s just us.”

“It would be only now,” he answered, “in the middle of this awful place.”

“It’s not awful at all,” she said, and he instantly believed her. “It’s the best place we could hope to be, because we’re both finally here and looking at each other.” Her smile grew a little coy and timid. “I was waiting for the story’s lead colt to appear.”

“Story?” he asked, and immediately felt very stupid. How dare he ask her silly questions, when she was so perfect she didn’t have time to answer them. “What a story this turned out to be,” he said in a rush of emotion. “The Nightmare’s won and it’s all over. It said I had to give up everything, that my story had to have a bad ending.”

“There’s so many stories at work here you can be forgiven for thinking one or two are the only ones that matter. It’s what I thought, too. It’s what the Nightmare wanted us both to think. But it’s wrong. The Nightmare isn’t the only reality that matters.”

She raised a hoof and put it against her chest, then reached out. Wherever her hoof went, a glowing line followed.

“We’re connected, Dusk. We always have been. Do you really think your story doesn’t matter, even if it’s been ended by the Nightmare? Winning, losing, life, death; none of that is as important as the story itself. And what story really comes to an end?”

“But my friends,” Dusk whimpered, “they’re all gone.”

She nodded sadly. “I don’t know what happened to them, Dusk. But I do know that the Nightmare was lying when it said they didn’t matter. You and your world have always been alive and important, because you are important to me. A story is only important if the reader believes that it is. And you… well, you’re the most important pony I’ve ever known. You’re my hope. My reflection in the mirror. You tell me how good things are and how good things can be. You’re an aspiration that I can never reach, but that doesn’t mean we don’t touch each other. I believe in you more than I’ve ever believed in anything else.”

She drew more lines and pricked the air with her hoof  to create pinpoints of light. With flicks of her hooves, the lines rearranged into a beautiful, seemingly random structure that she held up with one hoof.

“There’s not a single story that’s isolated from the others. In some small way, however distant, we’re affecting each other and ourselves. All these stories about you and me are affected by everyone else’s story, too. Strangers, our friends, the Princesses. The Princesses especially. Celestia, Solaris, it doesn’t matter. They’re wrapped up in our tale, and our tale stretches out and touches every one that ever was and will be, even the ones that aren’t about ponies! That’s the power of Magic.”

Dusk reached out and took the little sculpture of lights and lines into his hooves, feeling its lightness and delicacy. “Then how’d the Nightmare overwrite my—I mean, your—our story?”

“Isolation and fear,” Twilight answered. “It told us the exact opposite of the truth: that we weren’t important, that we were somepony else’s tools. You and me... we’re the most important story that’s ever been told in Equestria. Around us everything else is spinning. Around us every other story watches to see where you and me go.” She reached out and touched the structure, spinning it in place. “In my world Celestia did something terrible, but she didn’t do it because she hated me, or because she was evil. It was because she loved too much. The Nightmare was right in one respect: love can make a pony terribly frightened.”

Her horn stump glowed, and the structure split apart as a black fog with silver lining hunted between the lines, snapping them one by one. “Eventide and Morningtide were just like us, Dusk. They had the Element of Magic. They had the power to read between the lines, to see the pages of the big story that everything is written on, and they were Celestia’s attempt to find her sister before the Elements would give her back—and they reached into the place where all the stories were, where the Nightmare had power. It nearly killed them. The Nightmare came so close to coming back instead of Luna. Celestia swore not to make the same mistake again. She hurts every day for Eventide, whose memories she had to steal before the Nightmare took him like it tried to take me.”

A purple light flared up beside a white one, and as the black fog circled them both, hungrily, the white smothered the purple. “And when she saw the same happening to me, when she saw my power growing and reaching out to you, she was terrified. If Eventide and Luna could be taken so easily, if her inaction almost let the Nightmare win twice now… she thought she had to do something. Telling me about the Nightmare would make me aware of it. Make me vulnerable. But being vulnerable doesn’t mean you’re helpless. I might have been able to fight it. But Celestia was just so scared of losing another pony she loved And in trying to protect me, she almost lost me. When I was hurt by her, the Nightmare pounced on that breach of trust. And I chose to believe it, because when you hurt that much, you’ll take anything that agrees with you.” Her face drooped, and Dusk’s heart wrenched painfully in his chest. “I let it in. I let it all happen, Dusk. I’m so sorry.”

Dusk frowned. “And now… now we’re both going to die? It’s over?”

She smiled, and her smile twisted as if she was trying to enjoy an especially sour lemon. “Do you believe it’s over? You’re my hope, Dusk. If you believe it’s over, then what can we do?”

Dusk didn’t have an answer. His heart felt foreign and empty. He was a dry, dusty mug sitting on an old, forgotten table, never to be filled again. He realized, deep down, that he’d believed it was over long before he even came here. Musty tears that felt old and unused gathered at the corners of his eyes as he remembered all his friends, who had died or abandoned him one by one.

“I failed them,” he whispered. “I failed all of them. I… we might have been able to stop it, if we only realized all this before! If I’d tried harder to find you or you’d tried harder to find me, Magic could’ve done something, but we just played right into that thing’s hooves, and now they… and Solaris…”

His voice trailed off into a strangled moan. His hooves reached up and covered his eyes. He curled up and felt himself shriveling like a dying leaf, brittle and old.

But then he felt something warm and soft on his fur coat, and his crumbling exterior cracked apart entirely from that gentle touch. He felt her gather up his pieces and pull herself against him, and then he just couldn’t stop himself from letting it out. He ached and moaned and sobbed, but it was like even sorrow itself had left him long ago, no matter how much he squeezed himself to make it come out. He buried his face into a welcoming shoulder and they held each other tight, huddled against the encroaching dark.

“But you know something?” she whispered after his whimpering fell silent. “Just because you’re my hope doesn’t mean I can’t encourage you once in awhile, too. The Nightmare tried to make me forget my love for Celestia, for everypony around me. It tried to destroy everything I thought was true about me and my friends. And I believed it. But then Magic came and I remembered the chapters the Nightmare showed me weren’t the only ones in the book.” She pulled back just enough to smile at him, bending her head until their foreheads touched. Were their horns intact, they would cross. “The Nightmare rewrote where my story was going, but it couldn’t destroy what already happened. And something beautiful happened, Dusk: I remembered. I remembered all the times Celestia and my friends loved me and I loved them, and I know they wouldn’t give up on me, even now.”

“But my friends are gone,” Dusk sobbed.

“No,” said Twilight, shaking her head. “No. They’re never gone. They’re always here in one way or another, just like mine are. Stories never end until we say they do.”

She put her hooves on both sides of his face and lifted his head until they looked into each other’s gaze. Dusk didn’t see himself in her eyes. He saw a deep lavender expanse, cloudy and misty and full of comfort and wonder. He fell willingly into it, letting himself be surrounded by her. Inside her were all the feelings he’d ever known, all the thoughts he’d ever wondered about. All the wonder of the stars and the mystery of the night, the brightness of day and all the ethereal, distant things beyond the reach of his eyes existed there and, surrounded by them, he opened his hooves and let her in.

He felt sorrow and joy too, and then they mixed together inside him, roaring like dueling waves on an empty beach. He felt it all boil up and up, and there he found what she did, all the love and trust she’d lost. Dusk saw it rise up and fall upon him, forcing its way inside him and making his dry, crackling limbs supple and fluid once more, filling his veins with blood and his brain with thoughts and his eyes with sight. Ponies flashed by him in blurry pictures forever capturing if not the image of something then the feel of it. A rainbow-maned wonder made the sky explode like Rainbow Blitz. A group of friends gathered together in a donut shop. A kindly pegasus mare befriended Chaos itself. He saw it all, and his heart was suddenly filled up with all the joy that she had ever known, more and more until it bubbled up and out in a great overflow. The pain of his friends’ loss was nothing compared to the joy of seeing them again, even if their faces were a bit different, and that paled in comparison to the need to avenge them in the best way he could: by remembering their friendship and using that happiness against the Nightmare. It didn’t hurt, but the sensations were so intense he felt burned and frozen all at once.

How could the Nightmare have made him so empty, that she could make him so full again?

He came back to life in her hooves, and she was smiling timidly at him. He took a breath like it was his first, and the air—what else could it be but pure, sweet air?—filled his lungs until he thought he would burst.

She grinned and her teeth dazzled like stars to him. She blinked and one ear twitched upward. “You felt them, didn’t you? My friends?”

He nodded.

“They’re your friends too. Their memory never dies. Their story never ends unless we let it, Dusk. They’re here just like I am. Remember that. The Elements will never abandon you.” 

“It’s that easy?” Dusk said. “I just have to believe they’re here, and I’ll have the strength to fight?”

She tilted her head curiously, giving him such a look that he felt belligerent just for asking.

“Oh, Dusk,” she sighed, “just believing is the hardest part.” 

Her breath caught in her throat and she looked up to the sky. “The Nightmare knows we’ve met by now. It’s going to try and pull us apart again.”

“I won’t let it,” he said at the same time as her, and they shared a sharp laugh that pierced the dark and made it recoil from them. She touched his face again and he leaned into her hoof.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should’ve been stronger. I don’t know what will happen after this.”

“We both should have,” he whispered back. “But you’re right. This is our story. It always was. I’m ready to live again.”

She was silent for a while, and they sat there for who knew how long, staring at each other.

“I suppose in the end, it wasn’t about stopping the Nightmare,” she said. “It was about stopping myself.”

“Don’t,” he said. “We’re going to save each other, now.”

“Remember,” she said, “we were always connected before. We just didn’t know it. Now that we do, there’s nothing the Nightmare can do to hurt us.I’ll be with you and you with me, one way or another.”

There was a roar of displeasure from somewhere far away. He felt a cold chill run down his spine and the whole world seemed to move around him though he couldn’t see it. Already, she seemed smaller, more distant. His eyes opened wide.

“Wait!” he said. “I didn’t ask your name!”

He saw her smile miles away.

“Oh, I think you can figure it out, Dusk Shine.”

He saw her eyes, shining brightly like the two of them had in the dark, and then—

---------------------

The Nightmare’s eyes stared directly into Dusk’s own. Dusk stared back dreamy and unfocused. 

He was hurled back along the length of the corridor, crashing to the ground and spinning until he came to a rough stop against the wall.

“You couldn’t have,” the Nightmare rasped. “You couldn’t have. I devoured you alive. How did I feel you within me? How are you still here?”

Dusk struggled back to his hooves, wiping a bit of blood from the side of his head. It stung and he reveled in the feeling. For the first time since this all started, he truly felt. He felt alive and exhilarated. He felt real.

“I’m not going to explain myself to you,” he hissed through his teeth. “I saw her. I know she’s real. I know what she is now. I know what I am. Most importantly, I know what you are.”

The Nightmare lifted a hoof and glared at him, allowing him the space to stand, though for what reason Dusk couldn’t tell.

“You’re just fear. Fear is a parasite. The more of the host it takes, the stronger it grows. But I’m not giving anymore, I’m taking. Taking it all back." He put one hoof in front of the other, taking his place once again at the end of the hall. “You’re still there, though, waiting for me to give in. Fear is real, but so am I. Now I’ve accepted you. You’ll always be part of my story but you’re not the author. You never were. I may not be able to kill you completely, but I can sure as hay keep you from hurting anypony ever again!” He bent his head again, and his horn stump glowed like a sliver of moonlight.

“What is this?” demanded the Nightmare. “I destroyed her! I destroyed you! You can’t change anything now! You are nothing! You always were!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dusk said, grinning viciously. The bellowing eldritch abomination from before was gone. In its place, the Nightmare’s silhouette shrank, distorted, and gave ground.

Dusk tossed his mane. “I’m nothing? My friends are nothing? This world is nothing? Then come on. Wish me away like you always said you could.”

The Nightmare expanded again, roaring balefully. Dusk snorted. “You can’t, can you? You can’t do anything that I don’t let you. Because this is my story. A story is only as powerful as you believe it is!”

He shook his head and stamped his hoof.

“And I don’t believe in you anymore.”

The Nightmare reared up, stretching almost to the ceiling as it flapped its wings and screeched unholy curses at Dusk, trying to blow the little unicorn away with sheer hatred. A boulder was torn loose from the ground and hurled at Dusk, obscuring him from sight as it smashed into the ground. But then it cracked and split open, and there Dusk stood under a gently glowing shield, none the worse for wear.

“Your magic means nothing!” the Nightmare spat, sending black ichor flying from its fangs to the floor where it sizzled angrily. “I broke your horn! I killed your friends! I destroyed your world!”

Dusk shook his head. “Yes, you did. But you can’t take away my magic, because my magic isn’t in my horn. It’s all of me. It’s my soul. The one thing you can never touch.”

He stepped out from the wreckage and strode towards the Nightmare, who hurled invectives as the little unicorn forced it to give ground.

“You can’t take my friends, because even if they’re gone their story survives with me and all the ponies they touched! Dead or alive, they left their mark on this world and hundreds beside it! You can’t destroy the truth of their existence, and that’s why I still feel them with me! You can tear apart our bodies, but as long as I believe in my friends they’ll always give me strength.”

The Nightmare looked down at a rumbling noise between its hooves. The fragments of the Elements were shaking, lifting into the air. The Nightmare backpedaled, its eyes wide with fathomless fear.

“And you may have torn this world apart at the foundations. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. But I say it lives on, and it always will as long as I hold it close to me, and as long as she holds it close to her. All the stories you say you ended were never under your power. It doesn’t matter if we’re fiction! It doesn’t matter if you say I’m not real! What does it matter if we’re really here as long as we give someone the strength they need to live one more day?!”

The fragments ignited with hot, burning light. The Nightmare covered its face with its wing as Dusk pushed it back with every word he spoke.

“Magic never dies; we only forget that it was there. And I remember everything now!” Dusk shouted, and his horn stump glowed all the brighter in response. The illumination stretched out like a sword, and if Dusk didn’t blink he thought he could imagine his horn was returned to him. “You’re nothing, Nightmare. Just a tiny editor’s note in a story that was always bigger than you.”

The Nightmare reared up and threw a bolt of shadow at Dusk, but it merely burst against his shield. “I will always exist!” it screamed. “You can’t kill me! I am in every story and every world!”

“But you’ll never be able to bring them to an end. And who knows? Maybe they will end one day. But I know one thing: that ending will never come from you. This is our Equestria.”

--------

“And in our Equestria,” Twilight Sparkle declared, surrounded by streaming ribbons of light as she reared up on the dais to face Nightmare Moon, “we always have—”

--------

“—a happy ending!”

The fragments of the Elements flew together and the Nightmare reached out with its dark magic. It fizzled like a candle blown out, and the Nightmare twisted in rage and desperation. It lunged forward, trying to smother them with its own body, but they sprang away and shot towards Dusk Shine.

Their impact brought no pain. He felt like there was more of himself than before, filling him up until his old skin simply split apart to reveal what was really inside him. He left himself behind and floated up high above the battle, looking down at a picture far below. A small, brave unicorn was painted with vivid golds and purples and whites, almost obscured entirely by the glow, and faced the ugly smear upon the canvas that was the Nightmare, shifting and sliding like oil and making the image around it run together as if it were a smudge of turpentine.

The unicorn twisted and spasmed as though in pain, but he was so far beyond that frail body he couldn’t be sure of what he was feeling for all the sensations rushed through him at once. It felt like he was being cradled in her hooves again, and then being thrown to the Magic flowing through her and into him. It entered him, tore him apart and put him back together again, but when it was done he was not himself. He was everything he ever was and ever could be, and everything the Nightmare thought it had destroyed. From his back there came the thunder of wings beating the air, and the unicorn’s head suddenly burned with a light even brighter than the one that surrounded him. It was an impossibly bright and beautiful light like glass caught aflame, and Dusk felt his head burning along with his tiny döppelgänger. A geyser like burning snowflakes burst from his head, and a mountainous horn, stunningly real yet transparent like a sheet of thin satin, erupted from the stump. All around him swirled the fiery snowflakes.

The Nightmare retreated from the clanging wings and stomping hooves of the beautiful and brilliant creature that stood before it, scuttling like a cockroach that couldn’t find a shadow to hide in. Dusk laughed wildly, and in him were all the things he’d forgotten, and he burst with all the feelings inside him.

His friends surrounded him, laughing as they celebrated their first true victory together.

He put a hoof on Rainbow Blitz’s shoulder, telling him there were no secrets between friends, and though he was quite crazy that day the sincerity in his voice made him ache.

He saw them smile in unison as they lifted cider mugs to the air and cheered for a farm that would live another day.

He hugged Spines, dear little Spines, and told her she was always his number one assistant, wishing that he had told her that every day, every moment, every hour up till now.

He saw them arguing in a field of chaos, but even that couldn’t keep them apart, and Harmony mended them as it mended the world. They’d remembered who they were then, and he remembered it all the more clearly now.

The stories, the images, the memories; all of them were things the Nightmare had tried to tell him weren’t real, but reality itself didn’t matter to him. All he felt was the wonder of the moment, and the warm spot on his heart that came with every successive memory, every sharp realization. They traveled down his horn and gathered at the point, coalescing into a rainbow menagerie of love and friendship.

It snaked out, touching the dying world around him and sewed together the cracks, healing the bruises inflicted by the Nightmare and Dusk’s own lack of faith. The Nightmare reared up and screamed one last time. Dusk couldn’t hear the words before the rainbow leapt up and engulfed it like the sea, swirling around and around in a maelstrom. The sounds of his friends’ voices mingled together in a wonderful symphony, drowning out the horrid screech of the Nightmare as it kicked and bucked against its bindings, turning into one thing and then another in a final bid to escape.

Then all at once the world started shaking, as with childlike anticipation. Even as the rainbow constricted the Nightmare ever tighter until its struggles all but ceased, new cracks appeared in the walls and the air. These were not full of darkness, but a pure white light that was almost solid, striking through the musty, brittle shell of Dusk’s thin reality and dragging the carcass back into the sea of Magic from where it came. Dusk turned his head up, listening to the beautiful, awful noise of everything falling apart, and realized the Nightmare had, in fact, spoke the truth.

This was the end at last.

From worlds away, just down the hall, he heard a faint voice cry out to him in terror and hope.

“Run,” she told him.

He spread his great wings that weren’t all there, and aimed for the sky. With one quick push he rocketed upwards and his ethereal horn smashed through the stone ceiling. The lavender wings spreading out beside him carried him up faster than he thought, or perhaps the world was just that much smaller with the Nightmare no longer there to sustain it. This place, no matter how victorious Dusk had been, was a Nightmarish world and Harmony would not abide its existence.

The Nightmare followed close behind him, flying from the rainbow ribbons that looped around its shadowy form and tried to drag it down into the swirling white vortex that was miles below yet mere feet behind. The Nightmare’s head had only the barest equine semblance now, engulfed by a dark gaping maw that gnawed and gnashed at Dusk’s hooves, trailing after the beautiful thing he had become, yet never able to catch him.

They raced past the stars and up into the deepest parts of the sky, and how much further than that Dusk did not know or care. He went faster and higher, and the rainbows caught the Nightmare and bound it tightly piece by piece. The Nightmare stretched its jaws towards Dusk one last time, but a rainbow coiled up and muzzled it tightly before pulling it back down into the waiting whirlpool of creation. It screamed as it fell forever and ever, wailing into oblivion until its last bawling cry became an echo of an echo, and then it faded away to nothing along with everything else.

Dusk did not want to see the end and closed his eyes.

----------------

Dust, cracked stone, and falling mortar surrounded Twilight Sparkle, who lay in an unconscious heap in the rubble. The bodies of her friends were scattered corpse-like around her, the jewels on their necks still glowing white-hot but not searing them.

Twilight did not see that Celestia was the only one still standing, staring at the scene with a look of vacant, resigned sorrow. She was soon joined by her sister Luna, who stood a fair distance behind and didn’t dare to come closer.

Twilight did not see Celestia’s eyes turn up ever so slightly, to a point above and behind her unconscious body, and did not see the shadow fall over her face, marked by a horn and wings yet still remarkably like her own. She did not hear Celestia speak.

“I was afraid," said the Princess. "I still am. I think I always will be.”

The shadow did not move.

“When Luna and I found the Elements, I was so certain we would never be afraid of anything ever again. Our problems grew too big. Too out of focus. I couldn’t see them for what they were. I didn’t want to admit that I, an alicorn, ruler of the Sun itself, could possibly have the worries of the small creatures that scurried around me. I didn’t think my heart could be pricked by the tiny, sharp needles of pride and anger. I thought my heart was too big even for love, and I could just push it away into a little box. I convinced myself I wasn’t part of a bigger story; I believed I was its author.”

Luna shifted on her hooves behind Celestia.

“I almost lost my sister to darkness forever because of that hubris. I lost the respect of the Elements. And everything… my frailty, my mortality, my faults… they all came rushing back to me. I became terrified of myself and how easily my heart could become the warped, twisted things I’d banished. I grew desperate enough to reach beyond my station again.”

The shadow’s wings twitched, and it pranced a moment on its hooves, but Celestia went on, unable to stop herself.

“I wanted to prove my contrition by fixing my mistakes. That was when I found you.”

The shadow tilted its head.

“Or rather, somepony like you. I bade Eventide to reach into the places Magic once shared with me and allowed the Nightmare to learn how it might escape. I vowed, then, that this time I would find Magic’s Bearer and I would do it properly. I would love them, care for them, guide them. I would do everything I did not do for my sister or Eventide. I would be perfect, and so would they.”

She smiled down at Twilight, and her ancient face seemed to grow younger and more pitiable, less weighted by long centuries of regret. “And bless you, you really did convince me that everything was all right. In such a short time I came to love you so very, very much. Even Magic must see that now, after all the things I did to hurt it. I love all my little ponies. Especially you, young one, for who are you but the image she sees in the mirror every morning?”

The shadow was perfectly still.

“But that love bred new fear of losing her, even as I knew she would grow to become more powerful than I. I may be a fool, but I know some things. I know what she will become and what you are now. I know that she will accomplish greatness with or without me, and like any old mother I cried for the places I wouldn’t be able to lead her and mourned for the dark places she would tread without me. I did not tell her what her destiny was because I told myself she wasn’t ready. When the Nightmare came again all I saw was the terrible ending I sought to avoid, not the happy one I should have trusted her to bring us to.”

She shut her eyes tight and something bright and wet glittered at their corners. “I wanted to protect her,” she said, not with sorrow nor regret but a self-deprecating bitterness. “I wanted to preserve her from Magic itself if need be, because she reminded me what love really looked like. And now… now we are here.”

She looked up at the shadow again and the tears flowed freely. “I can never be sorry enough. I can never do anything to make up for my mistakes, because all that could be done my faithful student has done herself. I could never give back what was lost, because that power was taken from me long ago. She has done everything I hoped to do. And she did it right.” She shuddered, breathing heavily as her composure built up over a millenia cracked apart.

The shadow wavered and began to fall apart. Little purple fireflies drifted down to Twilight on the floor as Celestia dropped to her knees and cried. What she cried for nopony watching could say. The fireflies took a little piece of the shadow with them as they detached one by one. First the wings disappeared, then the body started to collapse, but the shadow stayed perfectly still through it all, whether resigned or sad or happy for its fate was impossible to tell. The drifting emberlights swirled into a cloud drawn towards Twilight, settling on her horn stump and gathering like fallen snow.

The shadow’s torso disappeared, and then its legs began to go, drifting away in total silence. Through it all Celestia’s tears pooled on the floor, and to Luna it seemed the vanishing shadow and Celestia weren’t so different: each was trying to give of themselves for the sake of another, but Celestia could do no more than cry. Her continued part in the tale would be determined by Twilight herself when she awoke.

The shadow was almost completely gone now, and it had settled almost entirely on Twilight’s horn stump, piling up and shaping into something new.

With a sound like rustling windchimes the glow faded and Twilight’s horn became whole once more. Her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she was was Celestia pressing herself miserably, reverently, to the floor.

Twilight raised one hoof and pulled herself out of the small crater, then dug another into the marble finish and started to crawl on her belly. Luna started, but was stopped immediately by something in her that refused to break the glassy moment.

Twilight dragged herself over the floor to Celestia inch by inch, the only noises being Celestia’s muffled sobs, and the little gasps and hitches from Twilight as she found a particularly rough spot to crawl through. She was exhausted. Her eyes were empty and reflective and she seemed only aware of the alicorn breaking herself to pieces in front of her.

At last, student reached teacher. Their noses brushed together and both looked up as a moment of understanding passed from one to the other, solemn and grief-stricken, and the longer Luna looked the less she saw any difference between them.

> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The jug wobbled precariously, threatening to spill raspberry soda all over the floor. Twilight gritted her teeth and pretended not to notice her friends all staring at her in uncomfortable silence, wondering if she needed help or if they should help at all. Her horn itched as she held the jug in place, pouring a cup for herself and everypony else. One, two, three drops spilled on her table, each one setting off alarm bells in her head. She ignored them and set the jug down with a relieved sigh—at least she hadn’t splashed it all over the place like the first time.

She plucked up the tray in her teeth, just to be safe, and brought it round to all her friends, who accepted their drinks with sullen thank-yous and smiles, all trying so hard not to be pitying, but Twilight wouldn’t mind even if they cooed over her little falters and slip-ups. She wanted them here and wanted them to feel needed, because she needed them right now. It was why she’d called the sleepover in the first place.

They all sat in a circle on their sleeping bags, listening to the faint snoring of Spike from Twilight’s room. The little dragon had exhausted himself early. For a time there was no noise except the ticking of a clock and their own breathing, and they very much enjoyed it.

A wispy little voice broke the silence. “Do you think we’ll ever see them again?”

Twilight looked over the rim of her cup that still fizzled with raspberry soda. She had expected the question, but not for Fluttershy to ask it.

“Them?” she asked.

Rainbow Dash fiddled with her hooves. “I think you know, Twilight.”

Twilight set her cup down in front of her and ran a hoof over the plushy softness of her sleeping bag. “It’s been two days,” she said quietly, “since I was discharged from the hospital. Two weeks since it ended. I haven’t felt a single thing since then like I did when I had the dreams.”

“We don’t mean to sound selfish,” said Rarity, “but ever since that day…”

“I know,” said Twilight. “We’re connected to our other selves through the Elements now and nothing will change that. That’s their nature. But I don’t know what happened after…” She twiddled her hooves and her breath shook. Pinkie Pie scooted closer and put a hoof around her shoulders while she steadied herself. “... I got my horn back,” she finished. “I don’t know what happened to Dusk or his friends. I know you all feel the way I do. That echo you just can’t seem to quiet down.” She smiled bravely for them and looked each of them in the eye. “But that gives me hope, you see? For there to be an echo something had to make the noise. It happened. It was real. That’s all I need to know for now.”

“You haven’t spoke a word about what really happened in there,” Applejack said, her voice thin and crackling. “When the Nightmare had you, I mean.”

Rarity tutted. “Applejack! She can speak to us about that when she feels it is necessary.”

Twilight blinked rapidly, her eyes suddenly hot and moist and stinging. She swiped a hoof over them and it came back wet. Rarity tutted some more and moved to embrace her.

“Now Applejack, look what you did!”

“Aw, Twi, I’m sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Twilight said. “It’s… it’s fine.  The truth is I still don’t really know what happened in there. I understood it at the time, but out here things seem so… so solid. So much less malleable. It’s hard to think of what Magic told me being true when I feel so normal again.”

“We understand,” Fluttershy said, and Twilight silently thanked her for her kindness even though she knew they did not.

“As to your question,” Twilight said after her sniffles receded, “I… I just don’t know. The last I saw of Dusk he was fighting the Nightmare alongside me. Then there was all this light and noise and I couldn’t tell what was happening. I don’t even have the words to describe it, really. It was like watching the world end but I was okay with it, and then something else distracted me and the world really wasn’t ending just because I was paying it no mind...”

Another awkward silence fell.

“They seemed nice,” said Pinkie after a while. “I liked the way mine smiled when he saw me.”

“Like real upstandin’ fellows,” Applejack agreed.

“Of course they were,” Twilight said with a bubbling laugh. “They’re as close to you as anypony could get. There’s no way they could be anything but amazing, just like you ponies.”

“They can’t be gone,” Rainbow said, her voice tight as if she had to force the words out. “I mean, they’re us, right?”

“Something like that,” Twilight murmured. “Girls, to tell the truth, I can’t tell you for sure whether we’ll see them again, or whether we’ll really figure out what that world and all the others I saw really mean to us. I don’t know how I got my horn back… Celestia didn’t tell me and I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

“Still?” fretted Rarity, but Twilight’s wince quieted her.

“I wish I could tell you everything,” she went on, “and I’ll tell you everything I can, I promise. Just… not right now. The feelings are still too close.”

“I don’t think they’ll ever go away,” Fluttershy whispered, looking frightened. “Not until we find them again. Not till we… we make it right. Make it whole.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Twilight conceded. “There’s a lot left for us to learn. But I’m ready to learn it. As for whether I’ll ever see Dusk again, I just don’t know.” She looked up at all of them, her smile brave and fragile.

“But… I believe.”

----------

After they’d all gone to sleep, Twilight went to the balcony outside her window. She snuck past Spike, sparing a moment to give him a kiss between the ear frills, and then locked the balcony door behind her. After a moment she stood up on her hind legs and put her front hooves on the railing, looking over Ponyville underneath the protective dome of Luna’s night. Her Moon slowly bumbled low and heavy through the sky like it couldn’t be bothered to be a lofty celestial body.

“I believe,” she said to the stars. “I really do, Dusk. I just wish I knew how to find you again.”

She felt a whisper of wind brush her cheek and for a moment she let herself be taken by the fantasy that Dusk was answering her, but it moved on behind her and called up a cyclone of midnight blue fog.

“Have you forgotten all you’ve learned so quickly?” the fog reprimanded her as it gradually took the form of a tall blue alicorn. “Do not ask my stars how to find your own dreams. Go to your own head and get them.”

Twilight froze as Luna stepped out of the mist, tall and proud as an ancient keep with just as many secrets. “Hello, Princess,” she said crisply. She did not move to make room on the already crowded balcony.

“I am glad to see you well, Twilight Sparkle,” said Luna, standing perfectly still.

“I wish I could say the feeling was mutual. There’s a reason I didn’t speak to you or Celestia when I came home.”

“Then I am glad to see you.”

Twilight’s eyes searched Luna’s for any hint of compassion or anguish. But Luna’s eyes were like her stars: cold and distant and watchful. There were galaxies in her mane and thunder in her hoofsteps, and Twilight felt very small. It didn’t relieve the biting cold inside her chest at all.

It felt like hours had gone by before she spoke again. “Why did you break my horn?”

Luna’s eyes closed, shutting herself completely from Twilight. “When I was Nightmare Moon,” she said, her words slow and rehearsed, “there was no compassion in my heart. I tore love and friendship from my chest and swore to never let it near me again. I did not do such things to spite my sister or the lessons we learned. Those feelings were a tether, a limit to how far my anger could reach. Without them I allowed my rage and frustration to drive my every thought. Not a single action was not devoted to harming Celestia and her ponies. I unleashed a plague of destruction upon Equestria and the world.”

“But Celestia stopped you,” Twilight pointed out. “She had the Elements.”

Luna nodded, curtly. “She did. They were merciful enough to strike me down, because the world did not deserve to suffer for our mistakes. But Twilight, consider this: What if Celestia had not had the Elements? What if I had won and the Nightmare fulfilled its dark desires?” The Princess suddenly filled Twilight’s vision, though she hadn’t taken a step closer. “Think about that, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight grew even more stiff until she felt like a plank of wood. “I have thought about it,” she whispered, her voice as cool as the night air. “I thought about it every day while I was lying in the hospital bed in Canterlot.”

Luna blinked and tilted her head. “Have you? Have you really considered that such awesome power is ever in the hooves of ponies who are imperfect? Have you really, truly told yourself and believed in your heart of hearts that on a whim you could blanket this world in death and suffering, and none of us, not even the other Elements of Harmony, could stop you?”

“This is a strange apology, Princess,” Twilight said.

The silence clouded around them, thick and curious. Luna’s face finally softened like a rock face turning to pudding.

“An apology is not contained in such tiny things as words, Twilight,” she said. Her voice was deep and cool, like Celestia when she spoke of grave, important things. “It is measured in millenia spent on Moons and gazes meeting across the room when they would not before. When I have truly told you ‘I am sorry’ for breaking your horn, you will know.”

Twilight bit her lip. “I saw blood. It covered my eyes.”

“There is no blood,” Luna replied, “in a unicorn’s horn. I suspect the Nightmare was pouncing on that moment of trauma and concocting a terrible illusion to help turn you more against us. I would never leave you if I thought you were in danger of death, Twilight. Such delusions were common for me, too, in my time as Nightmare Moon.”

Twilight sighed and looked back at the sky, resisting the petty urge to flick her tail. She wasn’t that angry anymore, or at least she kept telling herself that whenever the freeze took over her chest when she thought of the Princesses.

“I want to see Dusk again,” she said firmly.

“I know,” whispered Luna. “You deserve that much at least. But this is your story, not mine. Whether you find him or not is entirely up to you. I will not invade your dreams again like I did before.”

“Can you promise that?” Twilight asked and knew it was unfair the moment it passed her lips, but she still felt better asking.

“No,” said Luna. “There is no promise I can make that you know for sure I will keep. We both know that now.”

Twilight rubbed her hoof over the railing, listening to the quiet scrape. “It’s like everything has to start all over again,” she murmured.

“That is the nature of stories. They never truly end, since new ones are always beginning.”

A scroll hovered in front of Twilight’s face, held in the grip of Luna’s magic. “That being said, I have something for you. It is a letter from Celestia.”

Twilight hesitated before taking it in her own magic, noting how simple it looked. It even had the little red ribbon she often used to tie her own letters to the Princess. “What does it say?”

Twilight heard the creak of Luna’s shifting weight. “Things too private for me to know,” the Princess answered. “When you have read it, you will understand. Consider this Celestia’s apology. After what you did, you proved to us all that you are far more capable of handling the Elements and the enemies that go with them better than we immortals ever could. Celestia saw a shadow of what you really are—what you are to become. She has promised to no longer protect you from your own destiny. It will be yours and yours alone to seize.”

Twilight turned the scroll end over end, waiting for there to be a catch, a footnote, an asterisk of some kind. After a moment’s hesitation she tore it open and rushed through its contents, surprised at how short it was. What she read made her heart hurt like it never had before. But it was a good kind of hurt, and it made her want to turn and embrace the dark alicorn behind her with all her strength.

Instead, she bit her bottom lip till it nearly bled and forced herself to roll it back up. “I’ll reply to it as soon as I can,” she said, her throat thick and tight. She didn’t turn around again until she was sure she wasn’t crying.

Luna nodded. “That is well. As for me, you will know when I have apologized. Know this, Twilight Sparkle: everything has changed now, even you and I. It was unfair and painful and we might have done things differently, but we did not. I pray you will find forgiveness for us in your heart, but I will never demand it, as my actions took my deserving of such things away long ago.”

She spread her wings and took to the air. “Fare you well, Twilight Sparkle, you who have done greater things in your small span of years than any Princess could ever hope to achieve. Hold your friends as close as you can, for it was they who gave you the anchor to pull yourself from darkness.” With that, the Princess wheeled in place and shot into the night sky towards Canterlot.

Twilight went back inside, careful not to wake Spike, and set the scroll down on her desk. She looked at it timidly as though it might bite her, and pulled out a quilly and scroll of her own. The tip hovered, quivering, over the top of the parchment. She had no idea what to say in return, so she decided to start at the end and leave the rest for tomorrow.

She signed at the very bottom Your friend, Twilight Sparkle. 

Then she crawled into bed and stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Everything is different now. Nothing will be the same for you, either. You know me now, and I know you and every other me I could have ever been. Even if we find each other I don’t know what will happen or what I’ll say or anything. But I know it will have a good ending this time, because that’s what I’ll be shooting for. You don’t need a good beginning or even a good middle to have a happy ending. Every step I take will be more careful now, more measured. But I refuse to stop hoping, to stop loving and making friends. I know it will turn out all right in the end because that’s who I am and always will be. No Nightmare could ever take that away. I'm still here.”

She reached a hoof toward the ceiling, remembering what his fur felt like, the strangely familiar yet all too alien sensation of his larger, stronger body, his deeper voice tinged with her own awkwardness and timid sincerity.

“That means you are too, right?”

Her hoof dropped and she curled onto her side. She went to sleep with his name on her lips.

----------

“Twilight Sparkle.”