I’m galloping like crazy.
I have a good reason for doing so. My motivation is unwavering, and the overwhelming sense of a race against time is only driving me forward, but nopony around seems to care. They have already ceased to care for others just like they’ve ceased to care about the contractual terms of day and night, or dusk and dawn. Downhearted and depressed, they shamble across the streets of once serene Ponyville to no end, barely noticing a filly dashing by them.
There’s only one mare in the entire village who cares, one who can help me. She’s a unicorn skilled in magic, armed with books from her library and a bunch of inspiring letters about friendship at hoof. I can’t say I trust her, but right now she’s the best and only hope I have.
My name is Sweetie Belle, and I live in a world where night lasts forever.
* * *
Knock, knock.
I knocked twice on the wooden doors, now I’m waiting patiently. Although it is already past the opening hours – which are irrelevant anyway, since you can no longer tell the difference between high noon and midnight – I’m hoping the librarian is still awake.
After a while her hooded figure appears as she greets me in a rather cold manner. She looks down at me, both literally and figuratively, because even if I wasn’t a child-sized pony I know she would treat me as one.
“Yes?” she says. “What do you want?”
“She locked her. She’s taken Rarity.”
The mare looks around, glimpses of anxiety dancing in her violet eyes as if she was unsettled with something. No wonder, we have been acting like this since, well, since tonight. Wearing a hood in a world without the sun is a bit excessive, though. Perhaps she’s just returned, or was about to go on one of her expeditions?
“And this should concern me why, exactly?”
“Because you’re a member of–”
I’m cut off mid-sentence as she unceremoniously pulls me inside and slams the doors shut.
“Are you out of your little pony mind?” she says, trotting into the heart of the hollowed tree known as the Golden Oak Library. She grabs something with her magic, but the faint moonlight shining through small windows isn’t enough to illuminate the room, with only the sparkling magenta mists surrounding the object serving as a point of reference. “You were about to tell everypony, in public, that I am a member of the Resistance against the Nocturnal Empress? How about calling the wretched Nightguard for good measure?”
I can’t help but smile. Staying positive in this grim reality is a rare enough quality to have, but her exaggerated and often overdone responses are pure gold. I follow her further inside, convinced that what she needs is her daily ego boost. As usual.
“You’re the most magical pony Ponyville ever had,” I say. “Will you help me, Trixie?”
A spark appears, first in her eyes, and then within the magical mist, lighting the lamp. She takes off her hood, revealing the disheveled strands of her near-white mane. I can see from her eyes and numerous wrinkles that she’s tired, but no more than anypony who happened to live nowadays.
“Indeed, Trixie is the greatest and the most powerful unicorn in Ponyville!” she says. Heh, I knew it would work. “But what makes you think Trixie can help you?”
Now it’s me who looks around, unsettled. Although the library is probably the safest place in Ponyville, even Trixie can’t protect it from every eavesdropper and spy of the Nightguard.
“I heard that the Resistance leader,” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, genuinely scared of a mere chance of being overheard. “That T.S. came up with the solution to a dreamlock. And that you’ve already helped several ponies out.”
“Well, well, well, aren’t you the nosiest of fillies!” Trixie exclaims in a much too theatrical way, but I don’t blame her for that. She managed to stay true to who she really was: a showmare by heart, only attending the library because we happened to have a vacancy. Staying sane in this whole madness wasn’t easy, and more than often ponies were forgetting about what made them who they were, what made them alive. But not Trixie. “Yes, those “friendship letters” as they are commonly known really do provide some guidance in the matter. Although the real messages are encrypted and hidden between the lines, Trixie knows of a spell which might help break your sister out of a dreamlock.”
“So you will help me!” I almost jump with joy, but my enthusiasm is quickly dosed by Trixie’s unmoved face. Surely she can’t say no now, can she?
After a while Trixie sighs. “In this darkest of hours, it is of utmost importance–”
“…to care for each other, my little ponies,” I finish the quote. “From Friendship is magic, T.S.’s very first letter.”
She grins and extinguishes the lamp. “Trixie will come with you!”
We trot across Ponyville, which I suppose could be renamed to Nightville by now. It all started in here, after all, about a year ago when we were preparing for the Summer Sun Celebration, a holiday in honor of Princess Celestia. She was a wise and benevolent leader who used to rule Equestria in the past, but she is no more. Funny thing, we should have known that something bad would happen, because everything seemed a bit unorganized that day. Clouds weren’t kicked away on time and the music wasn’t as encouraging as planned. Even my sister’s decorations at the Town Hall lacked some exquisiteness, some touch of sophistication, or at least a second opinion from, say, a Canterlot high society pony. These were all bad omens of bad things to come.
And so they did. Not only Nightmare Moon, once believed to be only a myth has returned from her thousand year banishment, but she has overthrown and imprisoned our beloved Princess. Then, as the self-proclaimed Nocturnal Empress she forbid the sun from rising ever again. Without its warm rays it got colder, the plants became much more difficult to cultivate and our daily routines were tougher to maintain. The worst thing is that the ponies have ultimately submitted to such state of things. The omnipresent sadness and distrust took place of friendship and love.
We arrive at the Carousel Boutique, a place where my sister lives and works. I knock twice on the door, and after a while a pair of ponies lets us in.
“Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo and Apple Bloom exclaim in unison. “Miss Trixie, too!”
I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. These are my best friends, and I really mean it. Whoever T.S. really is, his – or her – teachings made us realize that if we don’t stay together, we won’t stay alive for long. We were fond of one friendship letter in particular, the one entitled Call of the Cutie, in which T.S. shares a heart-warming story about the ponies becoming friends because they didn’t have their cutie marks yet, much like us. That’s what brought us together, but we have more in common: we have sisters we deeply care for. Well, Rainbow Dash is kind of a half-sis, but she’s important for Scoots nonetheless.
I guide Trixie to Rarity’s bedroom upstairs. My sister lays on a big bed, motionlessly, wrapped in a simple mulberry blanket. She used to have very fluffy and elegant bedclothes, but she gave them away to some less fortunate ponies. Opalescence sits on a pillow next to her and purrs comfortingly.
“Before we begin,” Trixie says, already assuming the role of a teacher, “what is a dreamlock?”
I look at Rarity. She is breathing steadily, it looks as if she was asleep. And she is, in a way, but I know it is a kind of dream from which you don’t want to wake up. From which you are not allowed to wake up.
“Dreamlock is a prison built inside one’s mind, from one’s memories, wishes, and fears,” I give a near-dictionary definition. “In Rarity’s case, I guess it will be something related to fashion. It is extremely difficult to distinguish it from reality, and one can be very reluctant to leave it.”
Trixie nods in slight appreciation. “Correct.” She walks closer to the bed and puts a hoof on my sister’s face. I look away, because I know how a dreamlocked pony looks like. Eyes are empty and filled with darkness, with even the color of the irises obscured, covered with a black tract of the void instead. “To break somepony from such prison you must find them in their very own dreamworld and make them realize that they are, in fact, dreaming,” Trixie says, then turns towards me. “Do you know Rarity’s dream breaker, Sweetie Belle?”
I nod.
“She never pricks herself with a needle.”
Apple Bloom cocks her head. “What the hay is a dream breaker?”
“Language!” Trixie reproaches my friend. “More often than not, our dream are perfect world, states where certain things never happen, or always happen in the exact same way regardless of circumstances.”
She produces a golden bit out of nowhere. How is she doing that? I could never tell.
“For example, if you keep tossing a coin in real life, you’re bound to get heads and tails eventually,” she says, then throws the bit in the air with a characteristic jingle heard. It comes up tails. “In a dream you’ll be getting only one of those results, every single time.” She tosses and catches it again as it lands heads up. “It’s too regular and too steady to be true, but unless you have a strong mind, or somepony else around, you don’t perceive it as weird, and your state of imprisonment lasts.”
The coin disappears as suddenly as it has appeared. Trixie chuckles, aware of our amazement.
“Are you ready to begin?”
I climb onto the bed, chase Opalescence away, and lay down beside Rarity.
“Remember, the rules of reality do not apply to the dreamworld.”
“I heard you can fly in there, or be invisible, or do anything!” Scootaloo says.
“But she can’t fly in here, or be invisible in here!” Trixie replies firmly. “Be careful what you wish for, Sweetie Belle. Though you can shape the dream once you’re aware of it, the more unusual actions you undertake, the more likely it is for the Nightmare Forces to come after you. If they recognize you… Celestia save you. Obey the rules.”
While it hasn’t been particularly inspiring or encouraging, I keep my opinion to myself. Only Rarity’s safety is important now, because if I don’t get her out soon, she’ll fall into lethargy, and her mind will be consumed by her own dreams. This is why everypony looks tired nowadays – it’s much safer to sleep as little as you could.
“I am ready.”
“Good. Now, relax…”
Trixie’s horn shimmers with magenta which washes over my face. I feel weariness, my eyelids are getting heavier. I don’t fight it. After all, I need to be asleep to awake in the dreamworld.
I’m coming for you, sis.
* * *
I open my eyes.
It’s Ponyville, without a doubt, I recognize the Town Hall. Ponyville on a sunny day. Bah! As if its dreaminess wasn’t obvious already. Suffice to say that Rarity’s way of thinking must have organized this place. Buildings around me are prettier, cleaner, some of them even higher than their real world counterparts. Interestingly enough, they all have a touch of indigo or one of its major tones in them – decorative icing on the Sugarcube Corner looks tinted violet, Trixie’s Golden Oak Library has purple-blue branches, not to mention walls of the day spa in color of Rarity’s mane.
All in all, the town looks tidier than ever. I look up at the sun – I’m glad Rarity’s subconscious chose this scenery, I guess I won’t be able to see it again for a long time. At first it brilliance blinds me, hurts my eyes, but after a while it becomes warm and welcoming, I almost see Princess Celestia’s shape forming on its golden surface…
There is no time for that! I need to find Rarity before the Nocturnal Empress or her agents spot me. Sungazing ponies were surely drawing a lot of attention.
Not that there was anypony around whose attention I could draw.
“Strange,” I say to myself, walking through the desolated town, not a living soul in sight. Well, surely there wouldn’t be any, only me and Rarity are actually real in this dream world, everypony else will be a construct of my sister’s subconscious. Still, even they are absent. “What are you dreaming about, Rarity?”
I arrive at the boutique, the most logical place for Rarity to be in. I knock on the door two times, but no one opens. I sit down at a mulberry doormat, crestfallen.
“Think, Sweetie Belle, think! What is the scenario Rarity would be most likely in?”
I know the likely cause of this desolation. Rarity’s subconscious was apparently occupied somewhere else within the dream world. Because of that, there was no need to keep dreamy constructs idle in Ponyville, but rather make them play their parts in the proper plot of the dream. That said, Rarity could be anywhere she had ever been, places never visited being out of question.
But where?
I notice somepony with the corner of my eye. Startled at first – this could be the Nightmare servant of the Nocturnal Empress, after all – I look around, I try to hide somewhere, but bushes around the Carousel Boutique are too well-trimmed and all arranged into pretty leaf sculptures. Ah, too late!
However, the stranger just walks by me.
It is a mare, a lavender unicorn to be exact. She has a long, sapphire blue mane with violet-rose streaks along it. A lost dream construct, perhaps? It is possible, sometimes we repress and displace a thought because we don’t find it relevant. In other words, Rarity must have met this mare somewhere, but doesn’t want her to be part of the dream.
Or it can be a Nightmare agent in disguise. I decide to take a risk.
“Excuse me!” I run towards the mare. Being polite is kind of pointless when interacting with a mere dream construct, but she looks so tangible, so real. For example, her cutie mark. It is a six-pointed star surrounded by five more, smaller ones. Such detail! Why didn’t Rarity want to incorporate the mare that she apparently knows so well into her dream? “Hi, do you know where Rarity is?”
The mare stops, turns around and looks at me with her big violet eyes.
“Yes! Yes I do!” she replies cheerfully. “She’s in Canterlot, representing Ponyville on this year’s Canterlot Fashion Extravaganza!”
Canterlot. Of course!
“Thanks!” I reply. It’s ridiculous, I just thanked Rarity’s subconscious for directing me towards Rarity’s subconscious. I turn around to see the city of Canterlot in the distance, attached to the biggest mountain I have ever seen. In the real world I try not to look at it, now that it has become a dreary stronghold of the Nocturnal Empress, but here… the view is spectacular. “Hey, do you know how…”
As I turn back, the lavender mare is gone.
“Oh, well,” I shrug indifferently. Probably Rarity’s brain needed additional resources for some more elaborate construct with higher priority for the dream than that random mare. Still, I wonder who she was, or what she represented? I've never seen her in Ponyville, that’s for sure.
Back to work. Canterlot Fashion Extravaganza, good one! One of Rarity’s most daring dreams is to be known around the world as the most prominent fashion designer, so I guess it’s only natural that her dream world revolves around events where she can gain recognition and fame. Dreams are built with what desire most. Strength, intelligence, courage… that all could be achieved in here. Even if those were only delusions, they were real for the dreamer.
Now, how do I get to Canterlot? It would take at least several hours to get there on hoof, but in here I’m not bound by the rules of the real world. Ever since ponies have figured out that dreaming could be a deadly trap, even before T.S. developed the dreamwalk spell, we learned to control our dreams, shape them to our will. I only have to act subtle, because sudden, groundbreaking acts are tasty enticements for the Nightmare Forces.
So growing wings and flying straight to Canterlot is an instant turn-off, just like teleportation magic. Balloons and airships are too flashy. Doors, however…
I dash back to the Carousel Boutique’s door. I close my eyes and focus, trying to make my actions sound perfectly reasonable.
“Do doors exist in the real world?” I ask myself. “Yes, they do. Is it possible to open them? Yes, it is.”
I picture in my head a likely scene from the boutique: Rarity has customers from Canterlot, Rarity is asked to visit Canterlot… Now I move further. I see shops in Canterlot selling Rarity’s dresses, I see Rarity becoming famous and rich, I see Canterlot and its most elegant district…
“Is Carousel Boutique a pass for living in Canterlot?” I take a deep breath. “Yes, it is!”
I emphasize the last word, I knock twice and open my eyes, just to see the doors open as well and reveal not the inside of the boutique, but a loud, busy street with lots of ponies walking by in one direction. I walk through hastily, hearing the doors shut behind me. When I look around I see perfectly flat, ivory wall.
“Finding Rarity will be a piece of cake. I just need to follow the crowd.”
And so I do. The majority of dream constructs I am surrounded with are ponies from Ponyville, as that’s where Rarity spent most of her life. Those who she knew better are more vivid, more detailed, others are not unlike dress forms from Rarity’s workshop. To have this dream fulfilled, everypony has to attend that Fashion Extravaganza and see her latest creations, and so everypony is trotting forward.
Almost everypony.
There is one pony walking slowly against the flow of the crowd looking like a guard. Not a gold-armored representative of the Royal Guard that used to patrol Canterlot when Princess Celestia was our sovereign. No, he looks like one of the Nightguard, a terrifying force of black bat ponies in the service of the Nocturnal Empress, bringing fear and menace whenever they went.
Rarity would never dream of such pony. No other construct seems to notice or interact with him, either, which is even worse. The Nightguard – the real world Nightguard – can’t invade ponies’ dreams, but here, in the dream world, they are a common disguise for the incorporeal Nightmare Forces. Those were the tendrils of the Nocturnal Empress, acting wardens of dreamlocked prisons with only one job to do.
Hunt down intruders such as myself.
This is bad, but I keep walking forward. The aura of cold and malice becomes more palpable as I approach, it emanates from the guard like a ripple on the pond. I try not to look at him, instead sticking my eyes in a massive building ahead. It looks like a castle – perhaps the same where Princess Celestia used to reside? I spot a purple banner.
CANTERLOT FASHION EXTRAVAGANZA – SPECIAL GUEST: RARITY FROM PONYVILLE
I exhale. Three steps away from the guard. Five steps. Seven…
“Hold right there!” I hear his imperious voice from behind.
I could make a mistake in that very second, but I was sufficiently adamant in my resolve. I keep moving, though I feel my legs getting heavier with each step. My heart is pounding like a hammer.
“I said: stop!” the overwhelming voice strikes once again, almost causing me to slow down. But I can’t slow down, I won’t slow down! No dream construct would stop, ponies around me were created by Rarity’s subconscious for one reason: attending the presentation and acting for a cheering crowd if necessary. Definitely not for obeying anyone’s orders.
The crowd reaches a golden gate in the castle’s walls, and to my relief the guard doesn’t call for the third time. It is a good sign, though I wouldn’t dare to look behind just yet, as he might still be lurking there. Instead, I focus on what’s in front.
I like this city, it’s really impressive. I have never been to Canterlot myself, and I guess I won’t have a chance to visit it anytime soon, with the ongoing Night setting tourism out of adjustment. But Rarity was here prior the Nightmare Moon return, so she has some good, clean memories. Canterlot constructed from her memories has spires made of gold and ivory, all tinted indigo, of course. The weather is perfect, streets are shining, and this castle courtyard is decorated with alabaster sculptures of important ponies from the past.
“We’re sorry, the Grand Hall is full!” says somepony in the front. I can’t see him yet, taller ponies are obstructing my view. “We cannot let anypony else in!”
Now I see him. It’s a guard, but unlike the nightmarish one, he is built purely from Rarity’s memories. He has gleaming white coat, shining set of golden armor with a sapphire star emblazoned at the breastplate, and a helmet with a webbed crest on his head – yes, that is definitely one of the now disbanded Royal Guards. He is apparently trying to reason with the crowd.
“What do you mean it’s full?” shouts somepony from the crowd. “We need to see Rarity!”
“Yeah, I am her friend! We went to school together!” says another one, a stallion standing next to me.
“I’m sorry, but this is for security reasons!” the guard ultimately decides, lots of disappointed voices coming from the crowd.
Oh, Rarity. You simply had to overdo your dream, now hadn’t you? You wanted to be so popular your subconscious created more dream constructs that it could fit in the castle? Figures.
Still, how do I get in? I look around. I have to admit that those open windows up high are a tempting option. Gravity is such a feeble concept, I could just soar up there. I already feel lighter, tension in my limbs lessening, some invisible force trying to pull me from the ground…
No, I decide. I cannot let my dreams control my actions. There has to be another way, something more subtle, something consistent with Rarity’s mental structures. Something she would have done in my place.
I squeeze through the crowd to the guard.
“Hello, I want to see Rarity’s presentation,” I say, focusing on a silver spear he is holding. What other item is likely to be found in a door guard’s hooves?
“I’m sorry, I’ve already told–”
“I am on the list.”
The spear morphs into a small, elegant notepad taking its place. Of course neither the guard nor other dream constructs could notice that, although if there was a Nightguard somewhere nearby, I would be doomed. The first rule of survival in the dream world was simple: you can shape dreams, but it is essential to weave scenarios that are likely to happen. And VIP lists are more than likely during such events.
“Your name, madam?”
Now that’s tricky, because I obviously can’t use my real name. They don’t usually let fillies around my age attend Fashion Extravaganzas. And Rarity’s subconscious surely knows that Sweetie Belle is an unlikely character to appear in such scenario. So the question remains: who is likely to attend such event and respected enough by Rarity to be placed on the guest list?
“Sapphire… Sapphire Shores?” I take a shot.
The guard searches the list – it feels like ages! Perhaps Photo Finish would be better?
“Ah, yes, Miss Shores, please forgive me,” he smiles and taps on the notepad, then opens the doors for me with a slight bow. I walk through, leaving the noisy crowd behind. “Have fun!”
“You bet I will.”
It seems that the Fashion Extravaganza is in full swing. Although the Grand Hall is huge, even for dream standards, it is filled to the brim with an ocean of colorful and eye-catching ponies. And I’m not talking about their coats or manes, no, it’s all about their attires. Skirts, vests, scarves, cloaks, socks… I don’t know if I could find one pony as bare as me.
Oh no.
Fooling the Nightguard before worked well because I was acting accordingly to the rest of the dream crowd. Right now, without having something fancy on my back, I was an alluring oddity easy to spot by the Nightmare Forces, who surely patrolled this part of the dream.
I’m making my way through the plethora of ponies, slowly navigating towards a corridor adjacent to the Grand Hall. I move carefully, trying not to be stomped on. Not that I care, but with so many dream constructs around, one mere interaction would lead to another, resonating across the dream world. Talking to that lavender mare or the guard was a likely thing to happen, but unclothed filly exposed in a place like this would be just as peculiar as going against the crowd earlier.
“Phew!” I sigh as I slide outside. “Now, I need a disguise and a needle.”
I look around. There is nopony in the corridor, so I guess I can dream of some nice attire here. It has to be something acceptable by Rarity’s subconscious, something she has already seen in her life. It’s tough, I don’t know that much about fashion!
Wait. Of course! I focus on the memory of the first day I met Trixie. Poor mare was on the verge of exhaustion. Later we’ve learned that she used to be a traveling showmare, and that the Nightguard burned her wagon stage. Apparently spreading joy and laughter was something which the Nocturnal Empress frowned upon. We treated her, and Rarity went to fixing her clothes… those were…
“Nice!” I look at my back, seeing a brand new, mulberry cloak with embroidered gold stars. I look up. “And the hat, too! Now for the needle.”
Needles being soft was my sister’s dream breaker. Following Trixie’s logic: in the real world Rarity was bound to pinch herself once or twice while sewing, or at least feel pain if someone else did it to her. In her dream world, however, all needles felt soft at the ends. Her subconscious interpreted it as something natural, blocking consciousness’ objections and thus allowing the dream to continue.
All I have to do was to… well, prick Rarity several times and ask her why she doesn’t feel a thing. Logical, strong reply from the consciousness should be enough to break her out of the dreamlock state. Unfortunately, I can’t dream of a needle myself – that would be a creation of my subconscious, useless for proving my point.
I walk to the nearest doors. If this Fashion Extravaganza has so many fashion-thingies involved, there will surely be some dressing room, or a storeroom for all this stuff. Better knock before invading someone’s privacy, though.
Knock, knock.
No answer. I walk inside, the room seems like a quiet, isolated place. Filled with loud, gaudy attires, that is. I search high and low for a dumb needle, literally drowning in variety of costumes. They are elegant and exquisite, once again amazing me with the amount of details that Rarity’s mind was able to come up with. No two hats are alike, no two dresses… ah, here you are!
I stumble upon a small needle sticking out from an unfinished gown. I try to prick one of my hooves… nothing. Although it looks acute at the end, it feels blunt, like a match or unsharpened pencil. I fasten the needle to Trixie’s – mine – hat.
“What are you doing here!?”
I freeze. Partially of fear, and partially because of that aura of cold and darkness pouring into the room. No, not when I’m so close! I can’t fail Rarity! Either my disguise failed, or perhaps my presence in this room is out of rules of Rarity’s dream?
“Turn around!”
As I comply – I have to, in order to gain few more seconds to think, if nothing else – I see in a nearby mirror that the newcomer is a Nightguard. But he seems to be alone, perhaps I could take him? The only problem is, there will be an army of those in less than a minute.
“At command of the Empress, you’re underRYAAH!”
The Nightguard screams, surrounded by a sudden blast of blindingly white light emanating from the corridor. His bat pony form dissolves, revealing his true nature of the Nightmare Force – a dark blue mist, shimmering akin to the mane of the Nocturnal Empress – but it gets torn into pieces, too, a second later.
I can’t believe my eyes. Something actually obliterated the servant of the Night. What could posses such power? Rarity’s dream constructs wouldn’t fight back, and there is no unicorn I know that could do that! I dash outside, knowing that my race against time has entered its final phase.
I look to my right. At the end of the corridor, with her horn still surrounded by a stormy magical mist, there is somepony I know… by sight only.
“Save her!” the lavender mare from Ponyville shouts. “Save your sister!”
“Who are–”
“GO!”
I almost jump, her voice strengthening my resolve like never. I feel empowered, I feel heroic, I feel as if I could take over the world! I wish I could stop and ponder on this further… if she’s not emanating from Rarity’s subconscious, and she’s not with the Nightmare Forces… then who is she?
There is no time! I blast back into the Grand Hall, seeing that the changes to Rarity’s dream world have already started. Not only the constructs of fashion-loving ponies were being shattered by numerous Nightguards flying by, but also the hall itself began to change, into a gloomier and darker equivalent. Walls were no longer ivory white, but rather black like tar. Dark, glimmering liquid was pouring through the broken stained glass akin to waterfalls, bringing more and more of the Nightmare Force with it.
I spot Rarity at the opposite end of the hall. Her subconscious is apparently trying to protect her, still giving her visions related to Fashion Extravaganza. She has no idea what is going around.
I’m in a rush. Bat ponies are swooping over my head, I dash to the left, then to the right, desperately trying to get closer to Rarity. The floor behind me is collapsing into darkness, more and more Nightguards are encircling me – there is no way I could continue my run here!
Unless…
“I am in control of this dream!” I shout, seeing the black-grey storm of darkness around me. “I know Rarity better than you do! AND I MAKE THE RULES HERE!”
I close my eyes and jump up.
When I open my eyes, I’m on the ceiling, everything turned upside down. Gravity really is a feeble concept! The Nightmare Forces are confused, but they quickly renew their assault. I only realign my hat.
“I’m coming, Rarity!” I shout, continuing my run along the ceiling. The Nightmare Forces are coming, but I repel them with my own dreams, creations of my own subconscious. Since I have already been discovered, there was no use withholding my mind now. Beautiful celestial eagles phase through the wall and strike down dozen Nightguards to my left. Waves of white energy stun another dozen to my right.
I am in control of every aspect of the dream world. I bring destructive storms with my every step, I cause my enemies to tremble with my every breath. Nightmares fall as I blink, they whimper as I grin. I’m getting closer and closer to my sister, and nothing can stop me.
One final jump is between me and Rarity. I can already hear what she’s saying.
“…now, for my latest creation I chose silversilk from Saddle Arabia, which is, I dare to say, absolutely marvelous and in season…”
“Rarity, you’re dreaming! Wake up! Wake–”
All of a sudden, everything around slows down. My moves become sluggish, I am wiggling with my legs barely making any progress.
“Nooo!” I shout, hearing my voice sounding deeper and prolonged. “Raaarityyy!” I see Rarity turning towards me, but before our eyes meet, a substantial amount of dark blue miasma separates us.
And from it, the Nocturnal Empress herself arises.
It is not the first time I see her, but never before have I been so close. She’s a formidable, black alicorn – a pony with wings like a pegasus and horn of a unicorn. Her mane and tail resemble her bodiless servants of the Nightmare Force: wavy and shimmering, dark blue mist. She is also wearing a set of battle armor, but even without it she would be sufficiently intimidating.
I almost burst into tears.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks.
“You’re the…” I hesitate. “You’re the Nocturnal Empress.”
“Leave this place, child,” she says, and for a moment I even consider that. No, focus, Sweetie Belle! Don’t let her manipulate you! “Don’t you see that your sister is happy here?”
“What do you want from us? Why did you put a dreamlock on her?”
The Empress chuckles, sending an immaterial tendril through my head. It feels like a bucket of cold water thrown upon me. Yet I see images which I know belong to me. My memories…
“Let’s just say that I was impressed by her… generosity.”
I see Rarity giving away her bedclothes to a family who lost their home during the Nightguard raid. I see her working tirelessly to give warming clothes to everypony in Ponyville, even refusing the payment for that. I see her sharing food with neighbors, leaving very little to herself.
“I want to make sure she expresses it properly,” the alicorn continues. “In return, I’m giving her things she always strived to achieve… fame, popularity, wealth… everything she has ever dreamed about…”
I see more images. Rarity winning fashion contests, Rarity designing dresses for the Nocturnal Empress, Rarity living in the most luxurious district of Canterlot... like queen.
“That’s not true!” I scream, not entirely sure what is a memory, and what is a dream. “Rarity would never leave Ponyville and her friends! She would never leave…” I sob. When did I start crying? “She would never leave me! It’s not real!”
“It is for her,” the Empress approaches me. “You think otherwise, so let me show you something… something real for you.”
I see my friends at the Carousel Boutique. I see Rarity’s bedroom, myself and her lying on the bed. Trixie is watching us, Scootaloo is walking back and forth, impatiently. Finally, I see Apple Bloom sitting vigilantly by the window.
“Why… why are you showing this to me?”
“Observe…”
Something bad is happening. I feel more tears coming to my eyes. Apple Bloom moves away from the window and shouts something. Trixie straightens up and grabs Scootaloo, shouting something back to the yellow filly. They all gather on the bed, Trixie cast a spell and creates a shield bubble around them. The Nightguard blasts in, five bat ponies in violet armors surround my friends. Trixie moves the fillies back behind herself, ready to protect them with her own body…
The vision ends. The tendril leaves my head, grabs the hat and throws it on the ground in front of me. I can see the shiny needle fastened to it. It’s a miracle I haven’t lost it.
“Break your sister free,” the Empress says, walking to the side. Rarity is still there, still convinced that her dream is a reality. “And I will take your friends, and you will never see them again. Or,” she walks to the other side. “Generosity stays with me, and you and your friends are free to go… for now.”
She looks at me, her cold stare piercing the very essence of my being.
“Don’t test my patience, child…”
I sit down and stare at the needle. I… I really don’t know what to do.
* * *
I look at Sweetie Belle. She is breathing steadily, it looks as if she was asleep. And she is, in a way, but I know it is a kind of dream from which you don’t want to wake up. From which you are not allowed to wake up.
“Dreamlock is a prison built inside one’s mind, from one’s memories, wishes, and fears,” I give a rather sophisticated definition. “In Sweetie’s case, I guess it will be something related to courage, heroism, and acting older than she actually is. It is extremely difficult to distinguish it from reality, and one can be very reluctant to leave it.”
Trixie nods in slight appreciation. “Correct.” She walks closer to the bed and puts a hoof on my sister’s face. I look away, because I know how a dreamlocked pony looks like. Eyes are empty and filled with darkness, with even the color of the irises obscured, covered with a black tract of the void instead. “To break somepony from such prison you must find them in their very own dreamworld and make them realize that they are, in fact, dreaming,” Trixie says, then turns towards me. “Do you know Sweetie Belle’s dream breaker, Rarity?”
I nod.
“She always knocks on the doors twice.”
Author's Note
Done already? How about a sequel?
