Muffled shrieks broke Princess Luna out of her concentration. Her eyes fluttered open. She sat on the Royal Palace's balcony, overlooking Canterlot and the shadowed lengths of Equestria beyond. High above, the night's sky twinkled with a tapestry of brilliant purples and majestic blues. The full moon illuminated beads of condensation clinging to every window and roof shingle in the humid, summer evening.
The shrieks continued, doubling in intensity. With a gentle breath, Luna channeled an extra beam of magic towards the moon above. The bright sphere continued its orbit while the alicorn calmly shuffled around and trotted inside the hallowed halls of the Royal Wing. It didn't take long for Luna to reach the end of a hallway where two nervous guards stood at attention before a bedroom door.
"It started two minutes ago, Your Majesty," one spoke above the muffled cries while he bowed low before her. "Just as suddenly as the two nights previous. We would have intervened, but... b-but you had said—"
"I remember what I said," Luna uttered in a neutral tone, though she took the time to nod her horn at the stallion. "I appreciate your restraint." She made softly for the door. "Remain here. I shall attend to this."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
Luna opened the bedroom door and shuffled inside. The sweet smells of lavender and scented draperies struck her muzzle. Her eyes instantly locked onto a bed across the ornately fashioned room, lying beneath a wide set of windows opened to the moonlight. In the pale glow, a petite figure could be seen shivering atop the covers. Upon first sight of the Princess, the young mare gasped, shoved several open books off her mattress, and pretended to lie back down beneath the covers.
"I-I was sleeping just now, Your M-Majesty!" the filly's voice stammered. "I swear! I... I was only studying a little bit p-past bedtime!"
"It is not your excessive studying that brought me to your chamber," Luna said firmly as she strolled up to the bed. "You were screaming again, Dreamflight."
"Screaming?" The filly turned and looked over her sweat-stained shoulder. A violet horn hung over frightened, amber eyes. "So? Maybe... m-maybe I just saw a spider on the windowsill! You know how terribly arachnophobic I can be!" She chuckled breathily, her voice cracking in spite of her good efforts.
Luna's eyes narrowed. "You cannot deceive me, my pupil. You are wise like your great grandmother before you, but you do not share her innate craftiness. It would do you well to share with me what is truly troubling you."
"Ungh!" Dreamflight sat up. The covers rolled off, revealing a quarter-moon obscured by clouds emblazoned upon her flanks. "I am so... so sick of this!" She folded her forelimbs with a frown. "I've got exams to worry about! I'm under enough pressure as it is without having to deal with these... these stupid dreams!"
"A bold declaration," Luna said, and the lines in her forehead turned rigid. "Considering who it is you are speaking to."
Dreamflight's pupils shrank. She gulped and ran a hoof through her frazzled gold mane. "I beg your forgiveness, Princess. I know that dreams are one of your greatest gifts to ponies, but it's just that I've been working so hard to get through these most recent tests, and these... th-these nightmares aren't helping!" She folded her forelimbs together and pleaded with the alicorn. "Please... please! Isn't there some way you could—I dunno—clear them from my mind for a while? At least until I get through this trial period? It would really help!"
"Perhaps I could, my little pony." Luna squatted down beside the bed so that she was evenly facing the unicorn. "But we both know that I stopped manifesting or dissolving dreams a long, long time ago. Besides, I very much doubt it would solve the problem at hoof."
"Why wouldn't it?"
Luna cocked her head to the side, staring at Dreamflight inquisitively. "Do you honestly think that the dreams you've been suffering are the source of your anxiety?"
Dreamflight bit her lip. She hung her lip and sighed. "No. I... I'm just worried that I won't measure up to the grand sorcerers and sorceresses who came before me." She frowned slightly in the moonlight. "It's tough enough as it is trying to live under the shadow of my great grandmother's legacy."
"I am quite certain that we have talked about this already, my pupil," Luna said. "You must learn to stop comparing yourself to those who have served this kingdom in the past. Otherwise, you will not discover your own uniqueness and thus master your innate skills for the betterment of this realm's magic."
"But how can I compare to her?!" Dreamflight stammered. "She was the first pony in millennia to invent a spell! Not even Starswirl did that!" She sighed again. "I'm only going to be a drop in the well of history at this rate."
"What made Twilight Sparkle so unique was her deep respect for harmony," Luna said. "That is how she was capable of performing the great feats that she did. She allowed no room for anxiety or trifle worries in her life."
"Yeah, well, I could totally use a dose of harmony myself," the student muttered. "But these blasted dreams aren't giving me any peace!"
Luna gazed out the window in contemplation, then looked back at the young mare. "Perhaps if you were to share them with me?"
Dreamflight looked up with sad eyes. "But... but I thought you once said that you would never dabble with my dreams."
"I speak not of dabbling, student," Luna said. "I speak of sharing. Surely, as master and pupil, we can afford no less?"
Dreamflight blinked, then smiled weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay..."
"What is the term these days?" Luna leaned forward. "'I am all ears?'"
Dreamflight giggle. "I'm pretty sure that's been 'the term' for quite a while, Your Highness."
"Do forgive me," Luna said with a slight curve to her lips. "There are still things I must adjust to and at my own speed."
Dreamflight took a deep breath, hugging herself as she stared towards the foot of the bed. "The weird thing is, these last few nights, it's all been the very same dream."
"Has it truly?" Luna raised an eyebrow. "How curious."
"I'm trying to get to the library... y'know... in the Central Chamber of the Palace?" Dreamflight gulped and looked weakly into Luna's eyes as she continued. "And so I'm trotting as quickly as I can, and the faster I move the more the walls around me start to stretch. Then they bend so far away that everything becomes dark, almost as if you had decided to clear the day for night at noontime. And then I hear these loud shrieks right behind me! At first, I think it sounds like bats, but then I realize it's just one hideous voice, growing louder... and cl-closer. And before I know it, I'm galloping away from this thing. I don't want to look back, but I do. And... and it's... it's..."
"Yes?"
Dreamflight winced, ultimately squeaking, "It's a night guard, only it's not a night guard. All the armor is gone, and I see a dark coat and leathery wings and frayed ears. And then, in the middle of it, I see these fangs! And it's lunging at me!" The unicorn stifled a whimper and shudderingly said, "Before I know it, this rampaging bat pony is attacking! Trying to bite into my throat! But just as I feel the cold touch of its teeth, I wake up... and I-I'm screaming." The mare clammed her mouth shut at the end of that entire confession.
Luna nodded. "I see." She blinked. "And I do believe the appropriate term is 'sarosian,' my student."
"Er... r-right. And it's not like I have anything against the night guard—or any of the non-enlisted bat po—er... sarosians. It's just that..." She bit her lips.
"Hmmm?"
"Well, you have to admit, Your Highness." Dreamflight leaned forward and spoke in a whispery tone. "They are pretty freaky. Scary, I mean! What, with how silent they are and how they only move about at night and how they eat insects and small mammals and other... y'know... non vegetables."
"I more than acknowledge all of those dire features about them, Dreamflight, but I cannot fathom how they would be any scarier than earth ponies or zebras or pegasi or any other sentient variant of equines..."
"Yes, I-I know that!" Dreamflight shivered a little bit more. "And I'm sorry for coming across as cruel. I mean, I know several of your guards by name. But... but I guess... well..."
Luna exhaled. "You harbor a secret fear of them."
Dreamflight hissed out the side of her muzzle. "Kindaaaaa... yeah. Please, Your Highness, I'm really sorry for—"
"Do not apologize," Luna said, reaching her hoof forward to caress the unicorn's face. "You would not be the first to feel unease in their shadowy presence. For eons, the majority of Equestrians have gazed upon my favored herd through fear and distrust. It is for this very reason that I took sarosians under my wing to begin with, so that their skills and tenacity could be put to good use by my side."
"Yeah, but it totally isn't cool to freak out at them!" Dreamflight's ears drooped guiltily. "Besides, it's not like they're actual vampire bats or something. I mean, here I am trying to study to become a great magician under your tutelage, and I'm having nightmares about completely harmless ponies like a little bedwetting foal."
"Yes. And it is your proper distinction of a given situation that continues to win my respect and adoration to this day, student."
Dreamflight merely groaned into her forelimbs. "I wish I understood why I'm having nightmares about them every night, but... but nothing I do seems to make them stop!"
Luna was silent for a bit. At last, her eyes lit up, and she said, "Perhaps if you understood sarosians more, or at least the significance of their placement in this world, then it would unravel whatever irrational fear you might have about the race."
Dreamflight looked up from behind her twitching hooves. "You th-think?"
"Most certainly." Luna's lips curved again. "Consider it an impromptu lesson. You do seem intent on studying past your bedtime, despite my strong urgings to the contrary."
"Eh heh heh heh..." Dreamflight brushed her bangs while gazing rosily towards the books lying at her bedside. "Yeah. About that..."
"We shall save it for another time. As for now..." Luna leaned forward. "I would like to speak to you about a very special pony I once knew, a pony who I met a long, long time ago—long before this world knew proper harmony, or even the balance of darkness and light."
"Wow, Princess." Dreamflight blinked as she cuddled up under the duvet and stared at the alicorn. "If you're going that far back, I'd venture to guess you were going to tell me about the first sarosian."
"Indeed." Luna nodded, her face suddenly glossy like the full moon outside. "But she was more than the first sarosian." A warm breath. "She was my very first friend..."
I've lived for a very, very long time, my student. I remember when the world was still fresh and new, like an infant. It had a smell to it, like a blooming flower, and you could feel the rumble of the earth settling beneath your hooves, still malleable from the righteous flames that had only recently forged it.
It was a new and exciting domain, full of so much complicated life to discover, to name, to categorize, and—ultimately—to befriend. My sister and I were left alone in this place. We were stewards granted with the power to mold the boundaries of paradise. I would like to say that we both equally partook in this divine governance, but, in truth, the majority of the labor fell on Celestia's shoulders. She was the elder, after all, and our Mother and Father specifically chose to bequeath her with many eternal tasks to be endured, right before they left to carry the gift of light to other parts of the cosmos.
You might think it strange, Dreamflight, but an immortal's foalhood is nothing different than any other pony's. One's youth is ripe with as much confusion as discovery, no matter the amount of centuries left to exercise knowledge beyond the penultimate veil of adulthood. I, as a matter of fact, was a great deal more skittish than you have ever been. I can excuse this with the fact that I was truly foaled unto a world of great and unfathomable mysteries, and many of them truly frightening.
Naturally, Celestia was there to guide me in every shaky step I took. She consoled me when I was frightened, nurtured me when I was in pain, and taught me when I was afflicted with doubt. I did not know our mother very well, but somehow it didn't matter. Celestia was practically a surrogate to me, and even after so many eons the difference between us—I'm sure—is very much noticeable. She has been and continues to be every bit my senior, and if I didn't have her to lean on in those primordial days of Equestria, then I shudder to think how lost I would have been with such sheer power at my beck and call.
However, in spite of all of Celestia's nurturing ways, there is one area in which she could not assist me. A goddess possesses many things, but omnipresence is not one such trait. Celestia was simply incapable of both governing a blossoming civilization and foalsitting an anxious little alicorn. When she allowed the sun to retire for the day, so did she, and I had to learn quite swiftly how to govern the moon all on my own.
It wasn't that this was a difficult task; far from it. Celestia decided that I would become the night's sentry because it was a great deal less complicated an endeavor than managing the sun while simultaneously overseeing the waking hours of worldly life. Though I reveled in the brilliant luster of the moon and the vibrant constellations of night, they were poor substitutes for my sister's company. While the world slept, I found myself cast in darkness, and it was unsettling. I suppose fear wasn't my greatest obstacle—but rather an entirely different emotion altogether, a sensation that was far blacker than the cosmic veil under which I performed my nocturnal duties.
It certainly didn't help that my sister was dealing with a great deal of anxiety on her own. Less than two centuries into the infantile life of Equestria, a dire crisis had subtly arose from within the equine populace. It was a problem that plagued wildlife and all non-pony beings alike. Every royal subject who dwelled under our rule was starting to grow restless. Each mare, stallion, colt and filly was starting to succumb to a nervous affliction, something that sapped their energy whenever they tried to work... and robbed them of joy whenever they attempted to socialize.
I wish there was a way to properly convey the significance of this predicament. My sister and I had been freshly charged with the task of maintaining harmony and balance in this new and exciting world. Celestia had mastered the sun, and I was properly maintaining the moon. Aside from those two chief labors, we had sacrificed all our energy and free time into communing with the local populace, with helping them learn medicine and sciences, with bequeathing them all the knoweldge that our own progenitors had given to us.
And yet, in spite of our noblest efforts, something was still amiss. The ponies looked more and more distraught with each passing decade. We ruled out a physiological explanation. As best as we could surmise, it seemed as if their very spirits were in perpetual unease. It wasn't enough that we taught them how to maintain balance and pursue the virtues of Harmony. Something sapped the very energy from their souls against their will. The worst part of it was: the culprit had no form. The affliction was, by its very nature, a force that every pony ultimately succumbed to with no proper explanation.
I felt terrible for my sister. It pained me to see her—upon the dimming cusp of each evening—conversing with ponies, attempting to bring joy back into their lives, struggling to clear this ever-present cloud of despair that hung over their heads. Even when they attempted reciprocating with her, displaying an openness of mind, they still suffered from perpetual ennui.
It came to such a point that my sister's frustrations took the best of her. She grew weary, anxious, and even agitated.
"Perhaps you could invent a spell that would just make them all feel better?" I had once asked her.
"No, Luna," she answered me, her voice weighing deep from the inescapable burden. "Synthesizing positive emotions for them will not solve anything. I need to find the source of what's sapping their ambition."
"But if you made them feel joy, then perhaps you would give them something to strive towards?"
"It will not work, sister! Forgive me, please, but I need to be alone for a while. I must meditate on this situation and come up with a plan, or else there won't be any ponies to shine sunlight on in the near future."
What bothered me the most about my sister's attitude is that I could not fathom why she sought solitude as a means of eking a solution from her muddled thoughts. After all, I was well-acquainted with a reclusive nocturne, and it was anything but satisfying. I realize now that my jealousy began at a very young age. My sister, despite her excessive labors and problematic experiments, had an entire host of equines to work with in the daytime. I greatly envied that, but I was innocent enough at the time to actually feel guilty for such a negative emotion.
So I withdrew into myself even more. My sister and I became veritable strangers to one another: her with her unsolvable solution and me with my impermeable night. Though to declare each evening barren of joy would have be a fallacy. There were creatures that only came out under the blanket of stars: insects who danced in the air, owls who gave mystique to the midnight mists, and bats whose shadowed songs were delicious to my ears. My fright gave way to the spark of imagination, and I painted many a picture there in those quiet, dark hours, splashing the hidden colors of my mind upon the bleak canvas that accompanied me every night.
But imagination is a poor substitute for warmth, and as I found the years stretching onward, I missed the closeness and intimacy that Celestia and I used to share. I began to wonder if seclusion was simply a matter of growing old, or perhaps it was some unfortunate taint indicative of all the mortals who slept around me. I used to fly by the windows of ponies at night, gazing in upon their sleeping forms. It occurred to me that they looked just as unemotional and depressed in slumber as they did in the daytime. I hoped beyond measure that my sister would come up with a solution for our little ponies soon, because—as much as I perceived it—the ushering of night meant that each and every one of them "died" for a good few hours every evening. Sleep simply meant that the ponies' minds turned blank and empty every evening, and that made me the unwitting mistress to such unnecessary and unfair silence.
This reality vexed me to the point of frustration, and I feared that I too would become as distracted and anxious as my older sister. But then one morning, just two hours before sunrise, something happened that would consume my attention entirely—and for the better.
I heard the noise first like a loon's cry over the treetops. I thought that a poor fowl had entangled itself with a sea of brambles in the middle of the night, so I glided down from my station to investigate. What I found was something I did not even remotely expect: it was a filly, about the same stature and complexion as I was at that age. She looked most distressed, though there was nothing physically afflicting her whatsoever. I landed before the young mare and spoke to her with a concerned voice.
"What troubles you? Is something the matter? Are you lost?"
I didn't realize that I was asking so many questions at the time. You must understand, even after nearly three centuries, I had barely talked to a fraction of mortals—unlike my sister, who was extremely versed in common conversation.
It mattered little, for the filly barely registered the words I had to say. She simply jerked about, her bright golden eyes quivering like candlelight in a nocturnal breeze. When she spoke, it was like little bells ringing, and it warmed and broke my heart all at once.
"I-I'm so scared. Just... s-so scared!" the poor thing stammered. "What is this place? What am I doing here?"
I pitied the child. My first instinct was to wake up my sister and ask her to raise the sun sooner so that we could help the foal find her way home. However, for some reason, I completely neglected that impulsive thought. Someway, somehow, I knew that I was perfectly capable of consoling this lost pony, and it wasn't going to be through the use of the sun.
"Don't worry," I remember saying. "There's nothing to be afraid of." And I trotted over and sat by her side in the windswept grass. "I will keep you safe. See?" I aimed my horn towards the moon, and its silver surface glowed brighter. "I am Princess Luna, and so long as I am here, we are both safe in my beautiful night."
The confidence I suddenly carried surprised me. I wish I could say that it had an immediate effect on her. The filly's trembles didn't stop, but she leaned into me, and I could feel her heartbeat steadying the longer that I stayed by her side. It was only then that I got a closer look at the mare, and I realized that she was unlike anypony I had ever seen.
Her coat was coarse, and yet it had a dark midnight blue gloss to it, even darker than mine. Her eyes weren't the colorful round gems of typical ponies, but rather amber slits that reflected the moonlight like ice water. And her ears—most remarkable of all—frayed at the ends, almost like those of—
"A bat."
"Wh-what?!" she stammered, gazing at me.
"I'm sorry," I said in a humble tone. "I am simply surprised at your features. I've never encountered a pony such as you before."
She gulped and stammered, "I-I've never m-met another pony... ever..."
"Why, I find that hard to believe! Do you only trot the earth at night?"
Just then, dark leathery wings unfolded from her sides. It actually startled me. "I... I don't know..." She said, her voice wavering with confusion and sorrow. "Is that what you call this? 'Night?' I'm so lost..."
I was entirely mesmerized by this inexplicable creature. I realized that I didn't know her, but it didn't matter. I didn't want her to feel lost anymore.
"Don't worry," I said with a smile that I had seen my sister give me on so many occasions. I leaned in and nuzzled her close. "I just found you, did I not?"
Once again, I heard a sharp cry—a sonic reverberation that split the night, only this time it was different. It was lighter, warmer. It was laughter.
"Yes..." She cried, but it was a beautiful sob. As tears squeezed out of those precious little eyes, her body relaxed against mine, and I felt as if I had brought joy to a pony for the first time in decades. Had my sister ever managed that with all her warmth and daylight? "Yes, I guess you did, Princess," the foal stammered.
"Please." I smiled. "Call me Luna."
She hardly had a chance to address my name, mostly because she didn't win any opportunities to speak whatsoever. The rest of our time together was spent with me regaling her with copious amounts of testimony: from the foundation of the world to the beginning of Equestrian civilization to the secret imaginings and stories I had mentally painted upon the canvas of the night. It didn't occur to me until a few hours later that I had completely dominated any and all conversation, but the young mare didn't seem to mind. She leaned into me the whole time, and from her heartbeat I surmised that she felt satisfied and protected. Nothing could have brought me any greater comfort. I felt useful—and powerful, like a goddess should feel.
It was certainly distracting. As a matter of fact, I had lost track of time, and at some point I realized that I had neglected to lower the moon for the wake of dawn. It was the first time this ever happened, and the severity of such a transgression stabbed me to the core.
What happened next is the most startling account of my young existence. As soon as I became aware of how long the night had lasted, I could feel myself gasping. As I inhaled, all the previous hours of talking with this strange and sweet little mare all melted away, like ice turning to liquid inside a crystalline glass. Then, with one single blink, that jar shattered, and I found myself lying in a field under daylight.
I sat up with a start, breathless, and my beleaguered mind retraced my steps for an explanation for what had just occurred. I soon realized that I must have fallen asleep towards the tail end of my last nocturne. But how could that have been possible? I very vividly recalled having found this one lonesome foal—a foal with the fantastical qualities of a bat—and having conversed with her for hours upon end. The truth is, only a tiny fraction of that time had actually passed between late night and early dawn. What, then, caused me to imagine an entire conversation that had taken place within the constraints of my own sleep?
Naturally, I brought this to the attention of my sister. Despite her struggles in salvaging the spirits of our fellow Equestrians, she took the time to carefully consider my experience. After much talk, we both surmised that it was likely the product of my imagination. Though this was enough of an explanation for my sister, it left me feeling distinctly uneasy. I couldn't fathom how I would have imagined so much in the utter dead of slumber. After all, never before had I fantasized about a hybrid of pony and bat-kind. Was my young mind even capable of such a thing?
Such contemplation left me restless, and for the day that followed I didn't get a wink of sleep. As fate would have it, I was utterly exhausted by the time I had to once again hold the reins to nightfall. Celestia—always a dear—offered to usher in the moon in my stead, but I refused. I set forth on my ritualistic task, vigilant yet weary, and I didn't feel any sort of energy whatsoever... until I heard her voice once again.
This time, she wasn't shrieking in distress. Rather, she was calling my name, chirping and chanting forth earnest "Lunaaaaaaa's" into the dead thick of night. Breathless, I followed that sound, tracing after it like I was its own echo. At last, I found her again, and I was overjoyed. I apologized for having suddenly abandoned her out of nowhere, but she only looked at me in confusion. Though she remembered me, she did not remember any gap in time since the last moment we were together. As far as she knew, I was only gone for a few minutes, hence the reason she was woefully calling my name.
I tried asking her questions. Once again, I sat with her all night, desperately pleading with her to search through her own mind for some semblance of an explanation for who or what she was. She had nothing to give, and simply asked that I continue talking to her like I had previously.
"I love it when you share the things that you know," she said, leaning into me like a foal might nestle against her mother. Her smile was delicate, framed by fangs that were far too adorable to be menacing. "Please, talk to me. I can't remember a time when I felt so much... or learned so much..."
And so, I complied, and this conversation took us well into the depths of night. Then, after a millionth blink, she disappeared—and so did the moon and stars with her. I was shocked to see that I had fallen asleep again, and there Celestia was—nudging me awake where I lay limply in the middle of an open field.
I told my sister all about the reoccurring visit, about the foal who had suddenly vanished. On both occasions, I had woken up from a long and heavy slumber, and I didn't have a single explanation. I was hoping that perhaps my sister would.
Instead, she carefully contemplated my situation, then urged me to "relax" for the next few evenings. I was shocked to hear her basically command me to give up all labors of the moon and stars to her for the next foreseeable future. Her explanation was that there was a special correlation between my sleep and these visitations with the nightly filly, and the only way to properly understand them was to let it happen naturally—assuming that the pattern was indeed natural.
Trusting my sister, I agreed. I fell eagerly into slumber over the next week or two, and every time I did so I was surprised to once again be graced with the presence of my new and mysterious companion. What's more, each visit took place at any given time—be it night or day—for it was as though I entered a realm with this filly that was not bound by the limitations of the celestial cycle. So long as I was sleeping, I was able to commune with my new friend.
And how else was I to describe her? The more we met and talked, the happier she seemed to get. Instead of sobs, she had giggles to bestow. Instead of shivering, she laughed and sang. I was still the one who talked the most, but she turned out to possess a special talent of her own. During one session, she rose the moon instead of me, which nearly shocked the feathers clear off my wings. I asked her how she managed to do that without being an alicorn, and she simply shrugged.
"I just... thought about it. I like how you control the night sky, Luna. It's so pretty and amazing. I just wanted to try it myself for once. Is... is that bad?"
It most certainly wasn't a bad thing. I marveled at it; I marveled at her. Soon, she showed that she could do other things with mere thought. She could shape rivers, move mountains, and even paint new galaxies into the night's sky. For all the wonders of her omnipotent accomplishments, though, every trace of her work vanished the very moment I woke up, as if I was exiting our own special world in order to return to one that I was terribly familiar with.
I was too excited to be troubled. Every occasion I had to spend with her was like a holiday, and soon my astonishment grew even more, because the talent she was able to yield—she soon taught me. With only a few lessons, I too was able to mold the fabric of our nebulous little universe. Together, we built whole entire worlds, much like my Mother and Father did. We sculpted landscapes out of crystal, pouring in seas of pure silver and making colorful trees that glowed like lantern bugs in the darkness. Under her guidance, I learned to subvert gravity, to create portals between varying dimensions of melodic noise, and—soon enough—to fabricate facades of living equines who would walk amongst us, serve us tea, and even dance and sing for our amusement.
At some point, Celestia grew worried about me—and rightfully so. What had first started as a curious acquaintance had become a dramatic obsession. I empathized with her concern, and expressed my deepest desire to share everything about my new companionship in full. She startled me by asking if she could actually meet my friend. Honestly, I didn't know if it was even possible at the time, but we both agreed that the common denominator was simply a state of slumber.
You must realize, my sister and I were contemplating undiscovered territory. Never before had the two of us been asleep at the same time. We were far too concerned with maintaining harmony with the world to even risk abandoning it for our own mutual slumber. Still, for Celestia's sake at least, I felt that this was an experiment worth undertaking together. So, after months of coordination, we arranged for one week to be the approved date for the experiment. We warned our royal subjects to prepare for forty-eight hours of potential night. It seems a little heavy-hoofed in hindsight, but we simply didn't know what we were going to be dealing with at the time.
On the first night of slumber, Celestia failed to appear before my friend and I. This carried on into the second evening, and we feared that only I was capable of meeting with this curiously winged pony. At last, my clever friend suggested that she attempt "bringing" Celestia in herself. All I had to do was tell her when my sister was asleep. I informed Celestia, and she hesitantly agreed to attempt a third day of sleep. To my joy, my friend succeeded in reeling my sibling into our personal little world, and I can still vividly see the look of shock on Celestia's muzzle today.
From then on, Celestia would occasionally visit with my friend, ushered in by the pony's control over the domain of slumber. We would take turns visiting with her, talking with her, learning more and more about her impressive abilities. She was like the first pupil of ours, in a way, even before the likes of Starswirl the Bearded. Still, not even Starswirl possessed the kind of power that this mare could wield, and in such a wonderfully imaginative dimension to boot. She was beyond description, and my heart sang out every time I had a chance to witness her skills at work.
"'Saros?'" she had once remarked, gazing over her shoulder while in the midst of magically building a grand palace out of caterpillars and flower stems. "Is that what you would like to call me, Luna?"
I smiled at her from where I sat on a bed of golden leaves floating in the clouds. "I do believe it is most appropriate. After all, it's the name of a phenomenon that I admire greatly."
"You don't say...?"
I chuckled and nodded. "But I do. 'Saros' refers to the time between perfect lunar and solar eclipses. It's a measurement that proves that there's a force even greater than what empowers my sister and I, for we are all conforming to a pattern, a pattern that ensures that all light and darkness function with perfect timing."
"A force... like harmony?"
"Exactly," I said with a nod. "And I can't think of anything more harmonic than how fate has destined for you to appear in my life." That was a time when my smile was a great deal more liberal, and I attribute much of it to her... to my precious Saros. "You're like the light at the end of an eclipse. You're the promise that something joyful and amazing can be found in utter darkness."
She turned from the partially built palace and floated towards me across the spectral haze. "But... it was you who protected me when I needed it the most. You came to my rescue, Luna, when I was scared. When I was frightened."
I shook my head, and even I was startled at how shaken my voice had become. "There are worse things than terror, my friend. I... I don't know if you can understand that..."
She sat down across from me, folding her leathery wings at her side. There was so much emotion in the amber slits of her eyes. I miss it terribly... even to this day. "You mean... like loneliness, Luna?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly all I had to give was tears.
She responded with a smile, leaning over to nuzzle me. "The night is long and cold, Luna. But please, don't give into despair. You are too wise and too beautiful to succumb to loneliness. It would simply destroy the wonderful princess that I have been graced to know."
I choked, nuzzling her back as my breath stammered. "And you are t-too kind, my friend."
"Please..." She smiled, tilting my head up. "Call me 'Saros.'" She winked.
I stared at her, and the laughter came out of me like an avalanche. We hugged each other amidst those blissful colors, and I scratched her leafy ears with the playful innocence of the foals we both knew we were.
While I grew to respect Saros like a new sibling, it was Celestia—on the outside—who was studying the situation with newfound intrigue. She brought me aside one morning and gave me her firm hypothesis: that Saros was simply an abstract extension of myself made concrete in some sort of untapped mindscape. I told her that I couldn't imagine such a thing as being possible, but Celestia reminded me of how deeply I would let my imagination run wild during my lonely guard of the night. In response, I asked her if she had an explanation as to how she herself was capable of meeting Saros.
"And what did she say?"
"She was stumped, naturally," I said with a sigh. Saros and I stood on the balcony of a golden fortress we had built in the clouds overlooking a platinum ocean. "But, I simply think her mind is not in the right place."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, for the last few decades, we've been having problems ascertaining a crisis afflicting the mortals of our land."
"What kind of crisis?"
"You don't need to be bothered with it, Saros. It deals with the other world, not with this realm."
"No, please, Luna, I want to know." She flew towards me on her gorgeous wings. "I know that you care so much about your royal subjects. That makes me worried about them too."
I turned towards her and smiled. "Of course you would be. How could I think any less of you?"
I told her about how restless the mortal ponies were, about how terribly sapped of strength they all appeared to be, as if some unseen force was leeching from their very spirit. Celestia had meditated on every possible cure to their ailment but in nearly an entire century's time, she was helpless to bring harmony back into their lives.
"What if you let me visit them?" Saros remarked.
I looked at her with utter disbelief. "You mean in their sleep?"
"It worked with your sister, didn't it?"
"Yes, but these ponies are not like Celestia and I. They are mortal; their magic is limited."
Saros merely smiled a fanged smile and said, "Then I guess I have my work cut out for me! Please, Luna. Let me help! You and Celestia have brought meaning to my life, and I'd like to do what I can for these subjects of yours."
I mulled this over, ultimately realizing it wasn't going to be up to me alone. I brought the case to Celestia, and she was remarkably receptive. I think she simply wanted relief from having to deal exclusively with the crisis. Going about this new experiment was no easy task. We had to convince several of our little ponies to volunteer for what was going to be a literal trip into the unknown. Despite their lethargic demeanor, the equines seemed just as willing to embrace change as we were, and almost two dozen courageous mares and stallions arrived at the palace, prepared to surrender their slumber to the hooves of nervous goddesses.
I remember attempting to "prepare" Saros for the experiment the morning before the fateful date, but such an endeavor was folly. She was beyond confident, and ultimately I was the mare who required consoling. With a smile, she told me that "Everything would be okay," and then I witnessed as she drifted away from me, as if passing through another veil and into a dark and unknown world beyond.
Returning to the physical realm, I joined Celestia in observing the ponies asleep at our palace. We noticed that many of them stirred in mid-slumber, as if possessed. We presumed that this was the work of Saros, but it was still too early to tell. When morning finally came—a seeming eon away—the ponies all woke up at once... and they were smiling. To my and my sister's delight, excitement and tranquility had reentered their lives. They ate their breakfast heartily and even played games in the garden behind the Palace like little fillies and colts reborn.
Excited, I entered slumber to commune with Saros and congratulate her. To my shock, she was anything but enthused. As a matter of fact, she almost seemed... distracted. I asked her if she felt alright, and her curt reply was "We'll see."
With Celestia's approval, Saros was soon granted access to the sleepscape of everypony in Equestria. This led to a bright and promising week. Once more, the villages and fields of that young land were filled with smiling, happy faces. It was almost as if Mother and Father had just built the world all over again. It was hard to believe that such charisma wouldn't last forever... but it didn't.
After the first week, half the ponies who seemed cured returned to their usual malaise. The second week limped by, and even more ponies lost their bouncy canter, replaced instead by a tiresome lurch. By the third week, the situation had grown even worse than it was before. Instead of being lethargic and dull, everypony acted with rampant paranoia. There were panic attacks that took place in broad daylight, and even riots broke out in distant parts of the kingdom where the Elements of Harmony were at their weakest.
Naturally, Celestia was distressed with this, and she charged me with asking Saros for an explanation. I only wished I could have appeased my sister sooner, for as it turns out I had completely lost track of my good friend during that entire three-week period. Since the first night she decided to enter the sleepscapes of all Equestria, Saros had disappeared entirely. I was besides myself with panic, and it was a struggle to even fall asleep to begin looking for her to begin with.
For days, years, even eons within the fabric of our special mindscape, I flew about, looking for her. I remember calling her name and hearing my voice echo off the crumbling bowers of the many gorgeous palaces we had built together. The world was falling apart, imploding like the paper moon it always was. I started to fear the worse, and none of Saros' kind words could console me. I was once again a forlorn little filly, lost in lonely darkness and uncertainty.
Maybe I had started crying and hadn't noticed it, for I suddenly heard that chirp—like a dying siren from beyond the thickest shadows. I tore through the darkness, shouting her name. At last I saw her. Her eyes and fangs glistened in the abyss like the edge of a frozen eclipse. I landed by her side, and she was curled up in a little, shivering ball—much like the foal I had first met months previous.
"Saros...?" I stammered, crawling down so that I could nuzzle her close. "Saros, what happened? What went wrong? You were making so many ponies happy. Your power of imagination relieved their minds somehow. It was working. But now... why are you here? And what has you so distressed?"
"Useless... s-so useless..." Saros shook. Saros sobbed. I couldn't see her face. She was like a moonrise on the edge of one's eyelids, and the distance between us had turned blisteringly cold. "I couldn't help them, Luna! I was only m-making things worse!"
"How? But you were giving them happiness!"
"Happiness?!" her voice growled suddenly like a mangy beast's. "Happiness isn't want they want!" She hissed and twitched her leathery wings against the night. "Happiness isn't what this darkness needs! It's built out of cold things. Hungry things. I know now what frightened my soul when you first found me. Now there's no escape."
"Escape? Escape from what?" I struggled to hold back tears as I reached forward and shook her shoulder. "Saros, please. Look at me. Talk to me!"
"Luna..." Saros stammered, her voice growing rougher and rougher, losing all of its melody. "You... you don't understand. You have to let me go..."
"Go?!" I was hyperventilating at this point. I felt my insides turn to ice. "But... but we're best friends, Saros—"
"If you're my friend, then you will let me go!" she shrieked—a banshee cry. It shattered the night like obsidian glass. "You will let me do what needs to be done! You will let me become what your subjects need... what everypony needs!" She gulped. "For balance... for harmony!"
I wanted to protest. I wanted to fight my position—until I realized that I had none. For all our powers, my sister and I were strangers to the world. We may have been older than it, but that didn't mean we knew every secret hiding from us. Saros was one such secret, and though I discovered her—it did not mean that I held any dominion over the mare. She was right; if I respected her, then I would let her do whatever she needed to do, even if it was a perfect mystery to me. I owed her that much faith. I loved her that much.
"If what you need is freedom, Saros, then I have no way to stop you." Sadly, my emotions were a great deal more confused at that present moment in time, and the next few words I had to give were through an angry snarl. "Be what you must be! Go away, and save harmony on your own!"
"Luna... I..."
"Go!" I shouted. "You were made out of darkness, so return to darkness!"
She did, but not without pouncing on me first. Her slitted eyes burned like furnaces, and those leafy ears of hers that I adored so much had grown rigid and sharp like a demon's. She slammed me to the dark plain like an owl would impale a field mouse, and all I saw were fangs—fangs that she then sank into my neck with more pain than I had ever imagined.
When I said her name, it was through a scream. As a goddess, I thought I had known true fear. I was wrong. When her teeth ripped into my shoulder, it carried with it the venom of every terror this world had ever known, along with the onyx layers of madness that brimmed beyond the visible spectrum. I howled my sister's name, my Mother's, my Father's. I screamed until my lungs threatened to tear themselves to ribbons, and then...
Then I woke up in my sister's forelimbs. I had been writhing in my sleep, screaming indiscernible words, for the better part of two hours, or so Celestia had told me. Awoken from the ordeal, I clung to her—trembling—whispering Saros' tender name as tears rolled down my cheeks.
Over the weeks to follow, we heard about more terrors. What had happened to me was not an isolated incident. Saros' horror had spread, for she had taken it into the sleepscape of every mortal pony in existence. My sister and I were appalled at what had been unleashed, and just as we thought that this delicate world had come to a tragic end—our problem instantly vanished.
Our royal subjects returned to normal. They resumed smiling, resumed laughing, and resumed going about their daily duties with enough enthusiasm to carry their spirits beyond the next dawn. At first, it confused me and my sister greatly, for the night terrors did not stop. And yet, in spite of these randomly occurring visions that Saros wielded, the pleasant fantasies did not cease either.
It was then that we finally understood what had taken place, though it was Saros herself who first came upon the solution. Simply giving good dreams to the ponies of Equestria was not enough to bring balance to their spirits. After all, in every living thing there is an ounce of darkness, a cold piece of the soul that understands what it means to spread fear as well as to be afraid. Saros realized that she needed to become the vessel through which all equines could exorcize both their positive aspirations as well as their negative contemplations.
Such was the price of harmony. Saros was not only the very first dream, she was the very first night mare.
With the way in which she vanished, I thought that I may never have a chance to speak with her again, to question how she came about this answer, to maybe even... thank her for what would ultimately be an eternal contribution: the gift of dreams. With her gone, I felt as if a part of myself had vanished forever, but as fate would have it, we did meet one last time. It was in one of her good dreams—I could tell because it was painted to look like a clear autumn night.
I saw her floating against a crescent moon, and I sat up from my bed of leaves with a gasp, beckoning to her from across the ethereal dreamlight. All of my words were mute, and that was how I realized that I was not the one meant to impart a lasting message.
"I'll understand if you're mad at me," she said from where she floated above me, looking both glorious and terrifying all at once. "But it had to be done for the sake of harmony. I know that you would do no less if it meant saving the souls of this kingdom." For a moment, her fangs disappeared behind the softest of smiles, and a broken part of me recognized my dear companion once again. "You're the greatest friend I ever had, Luna. Promise me that you won't give into despair, and I promise you that I won't entirely disappear from this world."
I wanted to ask her so many things right then, and for some reason the most prominent question on my mind was "What do you mean?" But soon she disappeared, turning to smoke on the ends of my shrieking cries. The dream dissolved, and I was left lying on my chamber floor, weeping her name in quiet little breaths.
It only took a matter of time for me to properly understand what her parting words meant. Approximately eleven and a half months following the advent of dreams, something very magical happened. For a four week period, every child that a mare foaled in Equestria was... unique. That is to say, they carried the exact traits that I had come to admire so much in Saros, my best friend. Slitted eyes, midnight coats, leafy ears and leathery wings: an entire race of carnivorous equines were born in the span of a single month. Nothing like it had ever occurred before, and nothing quite so incredible would happen again. Celestia and myself were beside ourselves with amazement, but it was I who stepped up to take accountability for what had happened.
After all, it was my imagination—as well as my affinity for the creatures of the night—that drew Saros from my mind. In some small part, I was responsible for drawing these ponies—these sarosians—into the real world. To abandon them would have been utterly shameful. After all, I owed them more than that, just like I owed my best friend. I was wise enough to understand her final and last gesture to somehow remain in this life with me.
Princess Luna smiled into the sheen of moonlight wafting across Dreamflight's royal bedroom. "And for the millennia to follow, the sarosians—ponies so special that only a dream could bring them to reality—have served in my court with unwavering faith. They've earned my utmost devotion through and through, flying by my side, keeping this kingdom safe from nightly terrors. They are the selfless, stalwart warriors of darkness, capable of so much valor, and yet such remarkable tenderness."
After a deep breath, the alicorn leaned over and caressed Dreamflight's mane.
"So, as you can see, my pupil, there is nothing to truly distrust about my fellow stewards." She narrowed her midnight blue eyes. "And yet still, it is only natural to allow yourself to fear something. If you must eke terror from the ponies that have given me nothing but pure devotion, then so be it, for that simply means that you are abiding by the forces that my dear friend had set into motion eons ago. She became the essence of duality—something to haunt us with terror as much as to enchant us with whimsy. For what would we be without dreams? 'Tis better to suffer madness in one's sleep than in one's waking hours, wouldn't you agree?"
Dreamflight blinked, and slowly a placid smile came to her face. "I guess harmony has a very strange way of working itself out, huh?" The petite unicorn stifled a yawn and settled back into her covers. "I never... th-thought of it that way..."
"Life is stranger than you think, my little pony." Luna leaned over and nuzzled her dearly before levitating the covers over figure. "Try meditating on that instead of belatedly perused textbooks. I promise that you will sleep better."
"Mmmm... thank you, Your Highness..." Dreamflight's breath drifted off just as her consciousness did.
Luna stood up, folded her wings, and shuffled quietly out of the room. "No, it is you whom I must thank..."
She stood upon the precipice of a rock in the middle of the night. Leaves fluttered down from a tree canopy overhead, and Luna tilted her head up in time to see two comets streaking across the violet cosmos. She breathed easily, reveling in the crisp breeze drifting against her muzzle.
As the comets burned towards the horizon, they lit up a palace built out of flower stems and caterpillars.
Luna gasped sharply. Her heart stopped and her blood went cold as she heard the dull flapping of leather wings from behind.
"An apprentice?" A voice melodically chirped across the stars. "I must say, I'm impressed. After all these years, you still ignore your own loneliness to improve the harmony of others."
Luna's muzzle went tight. Slowly, she shook her head. "No. I am not a protector of harmony. Not like you think."
"And what makes you say that, old friend?"
Luna's face melted under frigid tears. She brought a hoof to her eyes and stammered, "I've failed this world, Saros. I've failed Harmony in so m-many ways, and I have failed you."
"A perfect world wouldn't need harmony. What, then, would there be to protect?"
With a sniffling breath, the alicorn murmured back, "I could have pr-protected you." She shook her head. "I should have protected you!"
"Shhhh..." The voice came closer, carried on wind and moonbeams. "It was never your protection that I wanted, Luna. It was your love. And you've never stopped giving it. I know, for I have felt it in the dreams of Celestia, the dreams of my children... and now through the dreams of yours."
Luna shivered and shook. "I have made terrible, terrible mistakes. But all I ever w-wanted was your forgiveness... for what I allowed you to b-become."
Gently, a pair of leather wings folded around Luna's body. "Become what? The hidden tapestry of all life? I only have thanks to give, my friend. Know this, now and forevermore."
Luna inhaled sharply, her face taking on a blissful smile. She wept with joy, leaning back into the leathery embrace as the stars all around her dissolved.
A tear trickled down that same muzzle, glistening in the light of a rising sun.
Luna turned over on her royal cushions. She made a slight trilling sound, pronouncing a sacred name that floated above her for a tense second then melted away in the golden light.
She resumed sleeping soundly in her royal chambers, undisturbed, with a gentle grin across her immaculate lips.
Author's Note
inb4 5-minute instant upvotes/downvotes
