“Well.” Mr. Shield looms above me, and I don’t quite dare to look up. He chuckles as he sweeps at our mess with his wings and sniffs at the fragrant pink fluid Rainbow Dash and I have created. “Even I haven’t seen this before. How did you two end up with—what is this? A potpourri dreamcatcher?”

Rainbow looks over at me, then back at Mr. Shield. I don’t follow her gaze; we’re the only team to have not created hot cocoa. Some of the others even have little marshmallows, and the teacher said they’re the ones who put love into it. We didn’t even make normal potpourri. Our pot steams and bubbles with the aroma of a warm hug mixed with magic, and according to Rainbow, that’s what good dreams smell like.

“Hrmph. Well, there’s only one way to imbue a medium with dream-catching properties,” Mr. Shield says. “Signamancy. Young Miss Song, I have no idea what you did to my materials, but you have a talent.”

“Hey!” Rainbow says, raising her head and horn in an impotent show of force. “I, uh, I did stuff too!”

“Yes indeed. However, my dear, since it’s clear you didn’t read my instructions off correctly, I can only credit you for the potpourri form. Pegasi cannot empower runes.”

“I’m a unicorn,” Rainbow says. She points a hoof up at Mr. Shield’s glasses. “Do those things even help?”

“Not as I would like,” the old pegasus says, chuckling. “Now, Miss Song, please set your pot of dream-catcher on my desk and go see Daydream in the back. I have to check on some little ponies who only made hot chocolate.”

Rainbow grumbles, of course, so I stick around to help her clean up our things, her magic sweeping up and sorting dusts and powders and my hooves serving well enough at gathering the larger ingredients. We’re almost done when the bat-pegasus who came in with Mr. Shield pokes her head out of the wall to the left of the blackboard and calls for me.

“Sweetie Belle?” she says. Her eyes scan the room for a moment before she catches me looking, smiles, and sticks a hoof into the schoolroom to make a beckoning gesture.

“Sorry, Rainbow,” I say. When I get up, though, I do take the pot with me and drop it off at the teacher’s desk before going over to the spot where the mare, presumably Daydream, stuck her head out. But from this close, it doesn’t look like part of the wall. It looks like a weird swirling vortex of—

I shake my head, blinking rapidly. Around me is not the schoolhouse, but a small, cozy space, like a living room with the trappings of a doctor’s office, where everything besides the small coffee table looks soft and warm instead of hard, white, and sterile. The floor is plush green carpet, and the walls are sky-blue with little pieces of bad art taped to them here and there.

“Hi, Sweetie Belle! Would you like to sit down?” Daydream reclines on a pink one-pony couch, gesturing with a smile to an easy chair that faces her across the table. The easy chair makes no sense, being way too high and big for a pony, but the material is simple enough to climb up and a wonderful medium between soft and firm for lying on, so it’s forgivable. Daydream smiles. The pupils of her eyes are cat-like, like Rainbow’s, and I catch glimpses of small fangs in her mouth when she talks.

“Okay. So, welcome to my traveling office. My name is Daydream, or Sunset Shimmer if you prefer. Tonight I’m the school nurse, counsellor, and so on.” Her skin-leathery wings spread, and she uses one to move a thin stack of papers on a clipboard from the table to her seat, where she sets them aside. “Legal privacy standards here are kind of terrible and I’m not a real doctor, so what actually happens is I consider everything top secret. The Princess sees and hears all, of course.

“Now, if you’re ready, we can talk. Anything you want to start with, or would you like me to just hold your hand for a bit?”

I blink. “Hand?”

“Oops! I mean your hoof.” She chuckles. “Sorry, I still get that wrong sometimes.”

“No, no, I mean⁠—” What do I mean? What can I say without sharing too much right off the bat? “You were human?”

“Yes.” Daydream nods. Then, she frowns. “But, hm, no.” She puts a hoof to her chin. “Sorry, let me clarify. Yes, I did think of myself as human. But no, not a human like all the other humans that upload here. I was a fictional character, and not on Earth, exactly, and before that I was a fictional pony. But you’re Sweetie Belle and you’re here, so you probably know what that’s like, huh?”

“Um, no.”

“Well, then try thinking of it like this. Equestria used to be fictional. So it’s not all that strange, I guess, except to ponies who have always lived here. I’m not sure how to explain it to you. But you’re not here for me and my weird ideas, anyway. I’m here for you.” She smiles. “Do you mind if I hold your hoof?”

“I, well, okay.” I’m not actually okay with that, but since when do adults give kids real choices. Well, Mom Voice and Pink might, but they haven’t really, either. And now Daydream stands between my seat and the table, reaching. Her right front hoof touches mine, and a bright white glow conceals her eyes. Faster than blinking, her coat and hair turn three shades of fire, and instead of batlike wings, she has a horn that glows with a pale blue aura.

“Do you remember what each of us came here to talk about?” she says. Her voice, at least, is still the same, though somehow she speaks clearly without opening her mouth. And I do suspect what the topics are supposed to be. Leaving school early. Mana surges. Nonsense about feelings, probably. Emotional trouble. Mom. Emigration? Amethyst Star?! Wasn’t I supposed to talk about this stuff with dad⁠—with Pink?

Wait, what?

“Celestia,” Daydream swears as she steps back, withdrawing her hoof. The glow in her eyes dissipates. Her horn vanishes and her grey colors and batty wings return, allowing her to flutter back over the coffee table and into her seat. In a softer tone, she continues, “I’m sorry, sweetie. Why don’t we talk about mana surges first, since that’ll be easiest and most general?”

“Sure. Whatever.” I grimace. “Why does everypony have to call me that?”

“Call you what?” Daydream says, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“Sweetie! It’s always sweetie this, sweetie that! It’s a pet name and everypony uses it like they have the right without even knowing me!”

“I’m pretty sure they’re just using your name, swee⁠—uh.” Daydream grimaces and rubs the tip of her muzzle. “Well, I can’t speak for other ponies, but that’s what I was doing. I can avoid it, if that would help.”

“Ugh, it’s just⁠—”

Something outside screams, wild, unearthly, and furious. The temperature in the room drops by at least twenty degrees, and Daydream’s whole body turns rigid for a moment. My muscles tense into a paralyzing web.

I know that scream. I’m going to die.

“Back to the others. Now.” Daydream is in my face, her voice and visage as serious as collections. Her eyes glow again as she wraps me in her forelegs and flies for the door. “Whatever happens, think of somepony you love.”

I shiver, and Daydream sets me on the floor of the schoolhouse among the rest of the fillies and colts, who have gathered into a tight cluster. Nopony talks. Rainbow presses up against me, her wide eyes scanning the ceiling. The screaming continues, and even the warmth of several ponies packed together can’t stop my body from shivering. I look over at Mr. Shield, who pulls Daydream into a close sidelong embrace. They share neck-nuzzles before the batty pegasus turns her head to address us.

“Everypony, this is very important,” she says, raising her voice over the din. “Gleaming and I are going outside to toll the bell. Stay close together, keep your voices down, and think about ponies you care for. We’ll be back.”

Somepony I love? Ponies we care for? I don’t have anyone, and now we’re going to die, so none of that even matters! But the two of them are out the door with a swoop and a slam. A little soft-yellow colt starts crying next to me, and an older one pulls him closer to whisper in his ear. In the back of my head, I'm with him, but my body is frozen again. Fillies and colts around mutter to each other.

Bong!

The school bell rings somewhere above, deep and loud. It's almost funereal, not like the brighter and less burdened sound it made on my first day here. Is this a different school after all?

The screaming outside rises in volume and fury, cutting through my thoughts, and a whimper slips from my muzzle before I can stop it.

Bong!

The bell cries out again, but this time it's followed by another, more earthly scream. Rainbow shivers, and cold creeps through my skin to the frozen muscles. The yellow colt wails, ignoring the older colt's shushing.

"It's okay," the older one murmurs. "It's okay, I have you now and Mama's gonna come. It's okay. Mama loves us. Think about her like the scary pony said."

His voice drops back to a whisper. For a moment, I’m jealous, but that moment is shattered by another scream outside, another pony scream. The doors cave in as a bloody Daydream crashes backwards into the room. She skids to a stop naturally, her wings shredded and legs motionless or bent in directions that turn my stomach.

"Damn," she says, her voice weak and strained. "Be good, kids. Your parents are coming." Despite the intensifying cold, she stops shivering just seconds later.

I look back to the door⁠—and my breath stops. My heart stops. The knot of my belly drops through the floor. The cold creeping into my muscles pierces into the marrow of my bones. I can't think. I can only see.

Her body is a mountain of human flesh and fat against a backdrop of blinding snow. Her face is a mask of fury and contempt. Both hands are monstrous, clawed fists, raised to strike. A little boy is sobbing, wetting himself, crying Mommy please I'm sorry as her attention turns to him and she screams about nothing important or true⁠—

"Hey, jerkface," Rainbow yells. The monster's burning, infuriated visage turns towards her, and the little unicorn shouts, "Leave my friend alone!"

“Don't. Please,” the little boy wails. “I'm not worth it. You'll just make her mad.”

It's too late. In a bright flash of rippling, multi-colored magic, bits of the smashed doors rise from the floor on their own, rising to fly at the monster in a flurry of wood and splinters. She swats them away without effort and screams at the top of her lungs, her words shorn from them by the ear-shattering volume.

Now we're both dead. My body slumps to the floor and curls up tight, covering its head as best it can. The little boy whimpers, but I keep my attention on the beast now. Maybe she can be appeased this time. Maybe a close enough watch will let me anticipate her and be just where or who she needs, or out of reach of her fury.

She screams at the top of her massive lungs. The force of it pushes me back and rocks the building. Plaster rains. Tiny screams erupt all around. More stuff hurls through the air at her to be ineffective and ignored. Now only vigilance and submission will stop her. My head bows, my gaze turns to the floor where my body lies, my mouth jumps in to save me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I won’t say mean, horrible lies about you ever again.”

She screams and rumbles forwards. I take a step back, and then another. A cold, cold knot forms in my chest and spreads in every direction.

“I’m sorry! I’ll say nice things! I’ll do what you say! I’ll let you—I’ll let you—” The words hitch in my throat for a moment, but my mouth replaces them. “I’ll be a good boy! I promise! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

She towers over me. It’s snowing. The wall behind hits me in the rear and I make my best effort to disappear into some crack where it meets the floor.

“You’ll never do that again!” she roars, raising a fist, a massive wooden rod. Meekly as I can, I nod, meeting cold resistance in the fur and muscles but overpowering it with terror. My mouth continues its spew.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please—”

A small pot flies through my field of vision. By reflex, my eyes follow to where it smacks straight into the fleshy mountain’s head, splashing its contents all over her face. She is completely unfazed, even when the teacher’s desk slams into her a moment later, and draws back to put more power into swinging the rod.

Well, that didn’t work. I drift away from everything in anticipation and… wait, is her face melting? I force myself to linger. The goo that was her head and neck collapses in an instant, running down her arms and chest and splashing on my body. But what ought to be a horrifying wound is utterly cartoonish instead, with the color and smoothness of sliced ham roast. Where there should be a little spine bone showing in the remaining stump, a different neck sticks out: slender, hazy blue, semi-transparent. The neck has a head on top shaped like a very angry pony’s but with bright blue-white lights for eyes. It’s like a worm sticking out of the mass of meat and fat.

Hysterical, terrified laughter erupts from my near-frozen jaws, drowning the apologies before they can be voiced. I can’t stop to laugh! This is too serious! Whatever that is still has a rod pulled back to swing! But the harder I try to stop laughing, the more futile it becomes, and the weird thing… isn’t moving? Looking away for even a moment could be fatal, but my ears move, picking up murmuring and hoofsteps. Ponies have stopped screaming, though someone is crying.

The weird creature turns its head, looking behind through the clearing snow, and vomits pink aether that dissipates in the air. When finished, it scowls at me, screams again—though this time it’s distinctly human or pony—and flies out the broken door.

Seconds later, exhaustion pounces. I start to fall. The lights go out.

Author's Note

Have a skewed but happy Heart's Warming, everyone!

This chapter was generously sponsored by Canary in the Coal Mine via Patreon. Thank you so much for the motivation and support!