A Moonlight Meeting
Brumbyburg was not a small city, though it was barely half the size of Canterlot. A fairly rural township, it lay nestled in the foothills to the west of Equestria’s capital. A number of the buildings crept up the neighboring mountainsides, with the most glamorous estates and halls occupying the higher reaches, the main thoroughfare winding down through the marketplace and more modest homes; the lowest hills were themselves a patchwork of respectable farmsteads. The denizens of Brumbyburg often reflected in dress from which tier of the city they hailed, but everypony was cordial and relatively unconcerned with rank or wealth. They were really more a content herd of hill ponies that had raised their quality of life by the sweat of their backs and the work of their hooves than anything else.
Misty Moonrise was one of them: an unassuming unicorn in a city of pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies; one who was raised to be polite and hospitable to all, to socialize at dances and to gossip in the market, to greet everypony she passed with a smile and a neighborly hello. She lived with her parents and two younger siblings in the middle of Brumbyburg, though her family preferred to think themselves on their way up, especially now that Misty was of age. It was a common practice among the Brumbies, as they liked to called themselves, and so no-pony gave the tradition any real thought. It was just a part of life.
Therefore, when Misty received an invitation in the mail to attend the Brumbyburg Premier Gala, her parents were delighted. Misty, however, was anything but.
“Do I have to go?” she asked, looking up from the invitation.
“Of course you have to go!” her mother replied cheerily, oblivious to her daughter’s reluctance.
“Don’t worry, it won’t be all that bad,” her father assured her. “You’ll be the belle of the gala.”
Misty’s spirits rose a little at that, though it was short lived.
A rosy glow surrounded her mother’s horn as she trotted around the kitchen table to Misty. The aura enveloped Misty’s white mane, which she had again forgotten to brush that morning. “Not like this, she won’t, dear. Really, Misty, how do you go about town like this?” She raised a few locks of mane and sighed upon seeing the split-ends. “You’ll need a good mane-cut and a new dress.”
“Couldn’t I just wear the one I wore to the Summer Sun Celebration?” asked Misty, though she already knew the answer. Her mother thought every occasion deserved its own ensemble.
“Oh, Celestia, no! That’s not fit for the Premier Gala!”
That’s what I thought, Misty sighed inwardly, ears falling.
Her father shifted the invitation closer to him and scanned the contents. “The gala’s only a few days away. You should probably hop to it if you want to be ready in time.”
“Yes!” her mother agreed enthusiastically. “We’ll leave for the salon straightaway! And then we’ll stop by Friesian’s Fashions for a dress. It’s always so hard to liven up your grey coat, Misty, but Friesian ought to have something…”
Misty subdued a groan—after all, it was not a very Brumby thing to do.
*
By the end of the day, Misty was so exhausted she did not stay up to watch the moonrise or stargaze. As soon as her head touched the pillow, reality was swept away.
The darkness of sleep soon melted into dream, revealing a stark landscape. Pale earth pocked by the rising ridges of craters stretched endlessly in all directions. The sky was black and empty. Not a star glimmered, and there was no moon to be seen. As Misty searched the barren wasteland, her hoofprints were preserved behind her as if she walked through icy snow.
Surely she was not the only pony here? For that matter, where in Equestria was she? Misty had always had vivid dreams, and she recognized this as such, but never had she visited so lonely a place as this in her nightly visions.
“Hello?” she called, but echoes of her query were the only responses. Where is everypony?
Suddenly, a haunting laugh shattered the silence. Misty jumped, but quickly recovered her wits, reminding herself that this was a dream and that nothing she may find was real. Picking up the pace, she hastened in the direction from which the laugh had come. She crested the lip of a crater and gazed upon the scene below.
Like hungry timberwolves, shadows swarmed all around—distorted shapes which morphed from one terrifying monster to the next before Misty could fully grasp what she was seeing. In their midst rose a tall, slender alicorn as black as the abysmal sky above. The deep purple light of the alicorn’s magic flashed off her cobalt armor and lent her reptilian eyes a ghoulish cast. Her unbound mane and tail swirled and twisted with a life of their own, deep blue and flecked with white, like stars. Upon her flanks roiled royal purple thunderheads, and nestled within that storm was a startling white, waning crescent moon, the same as adorned her breastplate.
Fear stabbed Misty like a knife. Her heart began to pound frantically, everything inside her screaming to run, to flee, to hide from the monster below before she was spotted. It took all of Misty’s self-control to quiet her terror.
Why am I dreaming of Nightmare Moon? she wondered, forcing herself to think rationally. There was always a reason with dreams, whether it be silly or serious, inconsequential or important.
As she was pondering this, Misty glimpsed another figure rushing about among the swarming shadows. This pony was also an alicorn, but much smaller—she could be no older than a filly, and a young one at that. Her coat was the periwinkle of a winter twilight, almost lavender, and her mane and tail were as blue as a cloudless summer day. Black spotted her flanks, along with a white, waxing crescent moon. The filly was trying desperately to flee Nightmare Moon, but a shadow always rushed to block her path. She stumbled and skidded in the pale earth, eyes wide with fear, but no matter where she ran, she could not escape.
Nightmare Moon threw her head back in another haunting cackle. “You little foal! Do you really expect to be rid of me so easily? I am Nightmare Moon! I rule the night! I cast down their precious Sun! I raised our glorious Moon!” The wicked mare reared up on her hind legs, and then brought her forehooves crashing down mere inches from crushing the filly.
“Stop it, please!” the filly begged, scrambling away. “I do not want this! I never wanted it!”
“Lies!” Nightmare Moon shrieked, summoning a bolt of violet lightning out of the cloudless sky to char the earth just before the filly. She strode through the curling smoke toward the young pony, the monster shadows around them growing even more crazed. “We want only what is rightfully ours. We deserve the adoration they lavish upon her. It was she who cast us out!”
“No!” The filly cowered before the black mare, trembling and pinning her ears against Nightmare Moon’s poisonous words.
“Yes! We were on the cusp of victory, but then she wielded the Elements against us! She banished us! She betrayed us!”
Misty Moonrise had heard enough. She descended into the crater at a breakneck gallop, summoning her magic. In a flash of sapphire light, she dispelled the wild shadows, leaving only smoky dregs that slowly faded away. This did not go unnoticed by Nightmare Moon, however, who scowled at Misty and summoned a second bolt of lightning. Misty dodged the jagged shaft, though only just—the stink of burnt hair issued from where her tail had been singed. She sent a sphere of magic hurtling toward the black mare in retaliation, but Nightmare Moon swept her wings up as a shield and easily deflected the attack.
But Misty had not intended anything less. With Nightmare Moon briefly distracted, she sped across the last of the crater floor separating her from the alicorn filly. The filly still cringed, huddled in on herself in fear. Misty placed herself firmly between the filly and the black mare.
Nightmare Moon chuckled darkly at the sight and smiled, exposing gleaming fangs. “How chivalrous of you, defending this pathetic excuse for an alicorn. But your heroism is wasted here, little foal.”
Meeting those cruel, slit-pupil eyes, Misty stated, “You are not real.”
“You would defy me?” Nightmare Moon’s eyes narrowed. Her wings flared threateningly as she took an ominous step closer. “I am the Queen of the Night! None dare defy me!”
“You. Are. Not. Real,” Misty repeated firmly, emphasizing each word.
Nightmare Moon’s lips curled in disgust. She advanced on the two smaller ponies, her dark purple aura once more sparking to life around her horn. “I shall teach you your place, little foal!” She reared and fell upon them, lightning flashing from above.
Suddenly, a dome of glittering blue light blinked into existence over Misty Moonrise and the filly. Nightmare Moon’s plummeting hooves thundered against it and her magic pummeled it from all sides, but it was all for naught. Misty turned to see the same blue glow surrounding the filly’s horn, though she still lay huddled on the ground.
“She isn’t real—say it,” Misty urged the filly gently. “If she isn’t real, she can’t hurt you.”
“She is not real,” the filly whispered fervently. “She is not real. She is not real. She is not real…”
Misty returned her attention to Nightmare Moon—but she was gone. Then Misty realized the shielding dome was also gone, and that the barren landscape had transformed completely. Now she stood on a balcony at the top of a high tower, overlooking a sleeping city. Stars glittered in the velvety night, and a full moon kept vigil over the quiet land. The alicorn filly was nowhere to be seen.
“Who art thou?” a voice suddenly asked. “Why art thou here?”
Before Misty could discover who had spoken, the dream shifted in a sickening blur of color. It felt as though she were being yanked back from that balcony, pulled through space and time by the thread of inevitability.
With a jolt, Misty opened her eyes. She pushed herself up and glanced around. She was in her room, with a single candle still burning on her nightstand, though the tallow was nearly melted down. She must have forgotten to put it out. Misty blew out the flame and shifted her gaze to the window. The sky was dark and cloudy, but the first rosy blushes of dawn were beginning to tinge the twilight.
Still somewhat confused by the unusual dream, Misty snuggled deeper into her pillows to catch a few more hours of sleep.
*
Misty Moonrise did not recognize the unicorn gazing back at her in the mirror. The sapphire eyes were hers, as were the pale grey coat and snowy mane and tail. Those last, however, were trimmed and combed. Her mane had always fallen down both sides of her neck, and now one side was woven in a braid and the other side fell loose in soft waves. Her forelock, too, had been groomed, and it now swept about her horn and over one eye, with a stray curl tucked against her ear. The blank flank was her own, too, though it was hidden now by the soft lavender folds of her dress—she was glad for that, if for nothing else. No-pony liked being a blank-flank, but it just was not natural for a pony her age not to have her cutie mark. She had heard the whispers, had seen the glances of sympathy and pity. Tonight, at least, she would not have to endure any of it.
A sigh escaped her unbidden. Who was this unicorn before her? It was certainly not the shy unicorn who spent her days dreaming of the night and her nights stargazing. This was not the unicorn who forgot to brush her mane in the mornings because she was so weary from staying up all night watching the moon and spotting constellations. This was not the unicorn who walked down the street with a book open before her, oblivious to the world beyond those pages. This was not the unicorn who practiced her magic in solitude, twirling stars around the night sky like fireflies and hoping no-pony would ever find her. This was not Misty Moonrise.
But she had tarried too long already. Misty embraced her magic, lifting a necklace off her dresser and fastening it around her neck. It was a simple chain of gold with an unobtrusive gold pendant, matching the thread-of-gold which was worked into the bodice and hem of her dress. She had never much liked it, but her mother wanted her to wear it, and she was hardly in a position to refuse. With a final glance at the stranger in the mirror, Misty departed her room.
She was greeted at the bottom of the stairs by her whole family—a ritual she understood to be inevitable and important to them, but of which she was less than fond. Her little sister and brother were practically bouncing with excitement, even though they were staying home. Once the fawning was done and the pictures taken, Misty followed her father and mother out into the cool winter night. The walk to the town hall, where the gala would take place, was not a long one, but a carriage had been hired nevertheless for the special occasion.
Misty looked up, but the stars were hidden behind a veil of gloomy clouds. A pity—she had wanted to stargaze for at least a little while before the gala.
Her father followed her gaze and said absently, “We’re due to have a white Hearth’s Warming Eve this year.” He returned his eyes to Misty, who had lowered her own to the cobblestones. He settled a feathered wing over her in a warm embrace and said, “Don’t worry, Misty.”
“That’s right,” her mother added. “You’re beautiful and unique, and any colt would be lucky to dance with you.”
“Thanks, Mom, Dad,” Misty replied, a small smile touching her lips. She shared a brief nuzzle with them, and then climbed into the carriage. As soon as she was settled, the chauffeur picked up a brisk trot and bore her up the thoroughfare. Snowflakes began to fall.
Within minutes, Misty found herself standing in the powdery snow before the open doors of the town hall. Many other ponies her age were arriving as well, some only just mounting the steps and some exiting the hall for a breath of fresh air with friends. The light pouring out from the hall was inviting, especially in this chilly atmosphere, but still Misty Moonrise hesitated. She had never been one for crowds, or parties, or any social gathering. The pressing throngs, the cacophony of conversations, the undercurrent of music and overlapping laughter—none of it was as inviting as a quiet ridge in the mountains from which to observe the night and practice magic.
Eventually, Misty managed to pick up her hooves and ascend the short flight of steps. She gave her invitation to the porter, who inspected it briefly before bowing her inside.
The hall had been completely redecorated for the gala. In place of the sparse, neutral furnishings were tables laid with white linen and sparkling glassware, vases overflowing with carefully arranged flowers kept alive this winter by a thin layer of magic, sculptures of ice and marble of ponies and other creatures in graceful poses. Brightly hued streamers hung from the rafters and wrapped around pillars, and delicate paper lanterns were strung all around. Ponies in various levels of finery, from the simple to the extravagant, milled about in small groups or pairs, chatting, laughing, dancing, and seemingly having the time of their lives.
Misty gave them all a wide berth, skirting the fringes of the gala as she walked along one wall. The tall windows were closed against the chill, but the drapes were drawn, allowing a view of the night outside. The snow was coming down thicker now, already beginning to blanket the rooftops and streets. There was still not a star to be seen. Misty liked snow, of course, but some nights a pony just needed to see the stars to know she was not utterly alone.
She sighed quietly to herself and wondered, Will the moon not even come out tonight?
“Misty Moonrise?”
Misty jumped, startled, and whirled around. Behind her stood a trio of ponies, one of whom—a creamy pegasus mare in a glittering green gown—was looking at her expectantly. There was a deep plum earth pony colt in a tuxedo on the pegasus’s left, and on her right stood a pink unicorn mare in an elaborate turquoise dress.
“It is Misty, isn’t it?” the pegasus continued pleasantly.
Bewildered, Misty could only nod. She did not recognize these ponies at all.
The pegasus smiled brightly. “I thought so! We bumped into each other at the Summer Sun Celebration,” she explained to her companions. “Literally! I was trying to find a better spot to see the sunrise, but I wasn’t really paying attention to everypony else around me. Misty had her nose in a book and never saw me coming.”
Misty’s ears perked up. That’s right, she remembered. We fell in a pile, and my book was damaged, so she offered to replace it. What was her name? Honeycomb? Yes, that’s it.
“Anyway,” Honeycomb went on, returning her attention to Misty. “Are you enjoying the gala?”
“Of course,” Misty lied. She would have preferred the truth, but being rude at such an event as the Premier Gala was something a Brumby simply did not do.
“Would you care to join us? We were about to go dancing when I spotted you.”
“No,” Misty said, “but thank you for offering.”
Honeycomb traded a brief glance with her friends, but then smiled at Misty. “You don’t like parties much, do you?”
A sigh escaped Misty involuntarily, and she lowered her gaze. “No…”
“That’s fine,” Honeycomb remarked. “I have a cousin like that. He never comes to these things unless somepony drags him, but he’ll fight tooth and hoof all the way. It was good to see you again, Misty.” She smiled again, and then she and her two friends turned to leave. Before Honeycomb had taken two steps, however, she turned back briefly. “Oh, I meant to ask: Have you gotten your cutie mark yet?”
Misty’s heartbeat staggered. Why is she asking about that now of all times? She shook her head and looked away so she would not have to see the disbelief in the other two ponies’ faces.
“Oh,” said Honeycomb. “Well, you’ll get it eventually, I’m sure.” With that, she and her friends returned to the festivities, leaving Misty alone again.
I shouldn’t even be here, Misty thought miserably. Everypony else here likes parties and dancing and talking, and they all have their cutie marks. But if she went home now, she would just be sent right back here, and she did not feel like arguing with her parents tonight.
As the hours ticked slowly by, the gentle snowfall outside became more of a snowstorm, forcing everypony to stay inside. The town hall felt even more crowded now, and it was definitely louder with so many more ponies chattering away like squirrels. Misty Moonrise finally had to abandon her somewhat quieter place by the window—her stomach was talking almost as much as the gala guests. By the time she had finished eating, however, a group of ponies had taken root beside her window. She would need to find a new place to wait out the gala.
Navigating the throngs of ponies was difficult. Misty often found herself boxed in or squeezed between a pair of ponies, though it was always accidental and everypony apologized when they realized Misty was trying to pass. Despite the cordial atmosphere, Misty began to feel more and more anxious the longer she spent in such close quarters. Her heart was racing like wildfire. It pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer in her breast, thundered in her ears like war drums.
Suddenly, Misty’s hoof caught on the lip of the slightly raised dance floor. Somepony had stepped on the train of her dress; the fabric tore as she toppled to the ground. The ponies nearby gasped almost simultaneously as she fell, and a number of them promptly approached to make sure she was unharmed. Misty rubbed the hoof which had sent her tumbling, but it was only a little sore and even that would not last long. Then she noticed the innumerable eyes staring at her and the conspiratorial whispers.
“I’m so sorry!” a light blue colt exclaimed, running up to Misty. As he helped her to stand, he said, still frantic and apologetic, “I didn’t realize I’d caught your dress! Are you all right? You aren’t hurt, are you?”
Misty barely heard him. Her dress now sported a wide, frayed tear, which exposed her flank. The whispers around her somehow penetrated the panic of her mind.
“Look at that—no cutie mark!”
“She can’t be a year older than I am. Why doesn’t she have her mark?”
“I know some ponies are late bloomers, but this…”
Misty’s ears fell, and she tried to back away from the onlookers. She bumped into another pony behind her and immediately shied away. Surely this was some terrible nightmare? Dream or not, though, she could not stay here any longer. Fighting back tears, Misty Moonrise galloped for the door. The crowd parted before her with startled murmurs as the news spread throughout the hall.
Darkness abruptly embraced her, and her hooves fell upon icy snow instead of tiles. The wind clawed at her mane and stung her eyes, but Misty did not care. She kept running, kicking up a comet tail of snow behind her as she flew down the steps and past the waiting carriages. A few of the chauffeurs called out, but they were distant noises quickly lost in the howling gale.
Never looking back, Misty galloped out of Brumbyburg and into the frozen mountain wilderness. She ushered light from her horn to illuminate her path as she entered the trees. The wild wind was somewhat subdued here, and some of the snow was caught in the branches, but Misty Moonrise did not slow down. She climbed higher up the mountain, the tears finally spilling free. She hated crying—tears never solved anything. But this was her mountain, these were her trees. She could cry here.
She stumbled into a clearing and collapsed in a snowdrift. Snow crunched loudly beneath her. The icy chill bit deep into her bones. Misty shivered, huddling against the drift shielding her from the worst of the wind. She should never have gone to the gala. She should have stood her ground and refused to go. How had everything gone so wrong? Misty Moonrise could never go back now—not to the gala and not to Brumbyburg. She would find somewhere no-pony would ever find her again, somewhere no-pony would laugh at her or judge her. Somewhere she could see the stars and the moon every night…
Misty looked up at the overcast sky and scowled. She would see her stars tonight! Nothing else mattered now. With newfound resolve warming her frozen body and drying her tears, Misty Moonrise picked herself up and charged through the deepening snow higher up the mountain. She ascended the frosted slope until she was above the tree line. She scaled the icy, treacherous rocks and ridges until it seemed she could almost reach out and touch the sky. Upon an outcropping laden with snow so high it brushed her hocks, Misty planted her hooves firmly and drew a slow, steadying breath.
Summoning the magic from deep within, Misty Moonrise’s sapphire aura came alive around her horn. She wove the magic carefully, not as familiar with the workings of weather as she would like to be, but she knew a spell that should accomplish her goal. Her aura began to sparkle and swirl, gathering strength. Within moments, the spell was ready, the magic brimming almost to overflowing inside Misty as she strove for every last scrap of power she could muster. Finally, when she could contain it no longer, she unleashed the magic.
A swirling sphere of sparkling, sapphire light shot skyward. The instant it touched the dark clouds, the glowing orb exploded in a clap of thunder and a flash of brilliance. The shockwave alone almost knocked Misty over, but she stood fast. She watched, wonderstruck, as the blue wave of magic dispersed the snowstorm in every direction for miles. The snow which capped the mountain and burdened Misty’s outcrop was also sent flying, whisked away on tendrils of magic. In place of the brooding clouds now glittered diamonds beyond count, twinkling playfully as if to ask, “What took you so long?” The moon, full and pale, shone down from amidst these diamonds, gracing all Equestria with its gentle gaze.
Ecstatic, Misty reared up with a triumphant cry. She pranced in circles on the outcropping, smiling joyously at the unveiled night sky all around her. She tripped over her tattered dress and nearly fell off the side of the outcrop into oblivion. With an impatience rarely known to her, Misty Moonrise tore the gown from her with her teeth and magic. She cast the ruined garment over the edge and watched it flutter in the faint breeze to the darkness below. Then she ripped the pendent from her neck, breaking the chain, and held it hovering before her. She scowled at the ugly necklace for a few moments, and then threw it with all her might into the emptiness after the dress. She did not watch it fall.
Instead, Misty Moonrise summoned her magic again and this time crafted for herself wings of stardust. It was a complex spell, but Misty had practiced this one many times and knew its intricacies by heart. When the shimmering appendages were complete, she flapped them a few times to test their composition. Satisfied, Misty set her sights on the end of the outcropping. She rushed forward and launched herself off into empty space. For a few heartbeats, she faltered, unused to flying, but she soon got the hang of it and left the earth far behind.
The wind of flight caressed her face, teased at her braided mane and tail. With a sliver of magic, Misty deftly unwove her braids, letting her hair stream free in waves of white. The sensation was so wonderful, so welcome, that she twirled midair like a leaf on an autumn breeze. Abruptly, she dropped a few feet, but quickly corrected herself and regained altitude.
Perhaps I shouldn’t try such trick-flying, Misty thought, though the hiccup had not really disturbed her that much. I’m no pegasus, after all. She giggled to herself at the thought of being a pegasus like her brother or father instead of a unicorn. What a silly notion! If she had been born a pegasus, she never would have been able to disperse the snowstorm or ever need to learn this glorious flying spell.
As she soared amongst her stars, Misty Moonrise sent swirls of magic out to a number of the twinkling gems and summoned them to her. They floated like crystal fireflies from their nightly places, still glittering merrily as they circled Misty in fanciful dance. Delighted, she then set her sights upon the many constellations. Streaking comets of magic brought to life the starry forms of Leo, who spread his toothy jaws in a great yawn, and of Taurus, who pawed the heavens and swung his horned head this way and that. Orion nocked a shimmering arrow and loosed it upon Pegasus, who reared and beat his wings. Before the arrow found its mark, however, Draco slithered between it and Pegasus and unleashed an inferno of stardust, searing the arrow from existence. Out of the dazzling smoke leapt Pisces, wriggling and splashing in a sea of stars. The Twins of Gemini split apart and looped and soared alongside Misty for a time, and when they departed the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades happily replaced them.
Misty hardly noticed the passage of time, so immersed was she in the ballet of night which she orchestrated. However, even she could not ignore forever the strain such advanced spells were placing on her. Her strength dwindling and her fatigue increasing, Misty eventually bid farewell to her celestial friends and alighted atop the mountain peak. She staggered a bit upon touching earth—landing was harder than pegasi made it look—but at least she managed not to fall flat on her face. Turning back to the night sky, she began returning the dancing stars and wayward constellations to their proper places. Once satisfied there was not a cosmic speck out of place, Misty smiled to herself and set to unraveling the spell which held together her temporary wings.
“ ’Twas thou.”
Misty jumped clean out of her skin. Her wings puffed out of existence in twin clouds of stardust as she pivoted to face the speaker.
In the silvery moonlight stood an alicorn of elegance and mystique. Her coat was the deep, velvety sapphire of the night, and the stars themselves twinkled in her nearly translucent cobalt mane and tail, which billowed gently in some unfelt wind. Black splashed her hindquarters like dark clouds, and within them lay a snowy white, waxing crescent moon. Upon her hooves were silver slippers, upon her head sat an onyx crown, and around her neck was an onyx torque with a second waxing crescent picked out in moonstones. Her bright cyan eyes were soft and knowing, and her smile was warm and gentle.
Misty Moonrise immediately bowed before the Princess of the Night. Anxiety left her tongue-tied, heart pounding. She had commanded Princess Luna’s stars—how could she ever have thought them her own?—without ever once thinking to ask! How could she have been so disrespectful? The night may bring her comfort, but it did not belong to her. “P-Princess Luna, I-I can explain,” she stammered. “I d-didn’t mean—”
“Forgive me,” Princess Luna intervened, stepping closer. “ ’Twas not mine intention to startle thee. What is thy name, little pony mine?”
Misty looked up, surprised she was not being punished. She swallowed, shakily standing. “Misty Moonrise.”
Princess Luna offered her another small smile. “Hast thou always been so gifted, Misty Moonrise?”
“Gifted, princess?”
Princess Luna gestured toward the nighttime sky with a wing. “ ’Twas a curious sight indeed to see my stars behaving so without my guidance. I admit, I was quite incredulous. I therefore decided to discover what or who bid my night to dance. Imagine my surprise when I came upon thee, Misty Moonrise, reveling among my stars. Truth, I was reminded of myself when I was but a filly.” She chuckled softly, her eyes growing glassy as she seemingly witnessed some faraway time. Then Princess Luna blinked, focusing on the present once more, and continued, “And then to recognize thee from mine own dreams, when ’tis usually I who walks that realm of sleep—truly, thou hast amazed me.”
Misty’s brow knitted in confusion. “I’m sorry, princess, but I don’t understand. What do you mean, you recognized me from your own dreams?”
The princess closed her eyes for a moment, and her light blue aura shimmered around her horn. In the air between them a small cloud of mist formed, and on its surface appeared that pale earth and black, empty sky from Misty’s dream. There, Nightmare Moon stood taunting the little alicorn filly amidst the writhing shadows. Then a pale grey unicorn—Misty herself, she realized with a start—ran onto the scene, chasing away the shadows and nearly being blasted from existence by a bolt of lightning. Misty watched as she placed herself between the filly and the black mare, as Nightmare Moon reared to attack—
The cloud faded, taking the dream with it. Misty Moonrise looked up in astonishment at Princess Luna as comprehension dawned on her. “That was your dream?”
Princess Luna nodded. “Yes. Somehow, thou managed to walk’st my dreams as I walk the dreams of my subjects.” She paused, growing somber. Her voice lowered and became touched with frost. “I should be most indebted to thee, Misty Moonrise, if thou wouldst refrain from speaking of my dreams with others. Dreams belong to their dreamers alone.”
Misty could not quite stop the shiver that crawled down her spine. She bowed her head respectfully and said sincerely, “Of course, princess.”
The grave atmosphere immediately lifted. Princess Luna dipped her head in gratitude, her warmth and smile returning. “Thou hast my thanks. Now, Misty Moonrise, I should like to ask of thee one last favor.”
Misty shifted her hooves nervously. “Yes, princess?”
“If thou art willing, wouldst thou journey hither to Canterlot to study henceforth as mine apprentice?”
It took Misty a few moments to translate the archaic terms. When she finally comprehended what the princess was asking, her eyes widened and she gaped. “You want me to be your student?”
Princess Luna nodded.
Misty could not tell whether she would faint or leap for joy. She worked her jaw, but nothing came out. She had to swallow a few times before she could speak again. “I don’t know what to say, princess.”
Princess Luna chuckled. “Well, ‘yes’ wouldst suffice.”
“Yes,” said Misty Moonrise at last, excitement replacing her earlier anxiety. “Yes! A thousand times, yes!”
“I am most glad,” Princess Luna replied. She strode past Misty to the ledge and spread her wings. “I must return to my duties this night, but I shall await thine arrival in Canterlot on the morrow. Thy first lesson will begin at dusk of the following day.”
“I won’t be late,” Misty promised. “Thank you, Princess Luna.”
“No, thank thee,” said the princess, giving Misty a knowing wink. Princess Luna took to the air, as graceful in flight as she was on land. “Fare thee well, Misty Moonrise,” bade she as she winged away.
Misty watched until the princess’s form was enveloped by the night and beyond sight. Then the pale grey unicorn turned to leave—but a flash of light blinded her, forcing her to stop. When the light faded, Misty blinked to clear her vision and searched for the source of the flash.
She found it on her own flank: a gleaming full moon partially veiled by clouds, in a night sky of dark blue.
Misty felt her heart would burst, she was so filled with joy. She was going to study under Princess Luna and she finally had her cutie mark! Now she knew without a doubt where she belonged, and it was not in Brumbyburg. Misty Moonrise belonged in the night, in Canterlot—with Princess Luna.
