The Immortal Dream

The moment she was alone in a proper bed, it was all Corsica could do not to fall asleep.

She really should have just done it. Ignoring her body's needs was why she was in this position in the first place, and she didn't need that flat-headed doctor to recognize the remedy when she saw it. But her discarded future still hovered like a strange blind spot in her mind's eye. Those three years she had wound back the clock on hadn't completely vanished, and if Princess Luna could give her any more information or closure on what had happened to her and why, she had to take it. She needed to know. Needed to...

"May I enter?" Luna's voice asked from everywhere at once.

"Go for it," Corsica grunted, not putting much volume behind the words... though they didn't cause her as much discomfort as usual.

Suddenly, Luna was there.

The Princess of the Night stood at the foot of Corsica's bed, the moonlight shivering in her wake. The lone lamp brightening Corsica's cabin seemed dimmer in her presence, as if she carried an aura that could suck away the things ponies hid behind, and pull closer the unknown.

Corsica wanted that. Not enough to put force into her desire, but when strangers saw her, she wanted to put questions on their tongues and remind them of their doubts. That would be cool.

"So, special talent," Corsica said. "Sorry if I don't say much. Not in great condition to talk."

Princess Luna shook her head. "You will find your maladies less cumbersome here. Scarce had you touched your bedding than you succumbed to sleep, and we stand now within a dream."

Corsica's eyes widened, and she realized that she actually could move a little... even though she still felt exhausted. "This is a dream? Are you real?"

"My domain allows me to walk within the dreams of others," Luna explained. "And this dream is yours. Nothing we do here will have consequence in the waking world, though you will remember it."

Corsica brightened with interest. "There's no way to teach that, right?"

Luna shook her head. "You have an unusual relationship with what is and is not possible, but this is not a place one should tread without purpose. To be surrounded by dreaming souls is to stand apart from the world's dreams. To lose oneself here would be to lose oneself utterly."

Her horn lit with a gray aura, and she drew forth Corsica's special talent. "But I would speak of you before I speak of myself. This is what I found within the premonition flux that occupied the ship's core. Does it stir recognition?"

Undeniably so. "Yep," Corsica said from her bed, reminding herself that this was a dream, and her old special talent couldn't hurt her here... Probably. "That's mine."

"This is not my Artifice of Hope," Princess Luna said. "Not the cutie mark I beheld upon you when last we met, one month ago. Not the artifice that turns the willpower of its bearer into physical change in the world."

"You sure about that?" Corsica raised an eyebrow. "If not, then what is it?"

"A cutie mark with the powers of an artifice," Luna answered, looking Corsica in the eye. "But not made by my hooves. Different in both form and function from the Artifice of Hope. And it is bonded to you."

Corsica scowled, pulling down her blankets and pointing at her blank flank. "Sure looks to me like it's over there where it belongs, not here where it doesn't. What do you mean, it's bonded to me?"

The special talent rotated gently in Luna's grasp. "How thorough is your understanding of the mechanism by which cutie marks naturally form, and the nature of their bond with ponies?"

Did Corsica really have to explain every little thing she knew about that? "Probably not as good as yours."

"Very well." Princess Luna nodded again. "Under ordinary circumstances, ponies begin their lives as a union of body and soul: one component that exists entirely in the physical realm, and another that resides purely in the mental realm. The bond holding those two halves together is what allows you and I to act and turn our thoughts into effects on reality. For example..." She lit her horn, adjusting the position of a chair against the far wall. "I thought to move that chair, and my body executed the action. An imperfect example, as we are presently in the mental realm, but from your point of view it should suffice?"

"Uh huh," Corsica said, encouraging her to go on.

"From the bond that links body and soul are birthed cutie marks," Luna continued. "This event can only occur when the two sides are both straining towards each other: the mind yearning to accomplish some worldly goal, and the body taking up an ideological mantle, stepping into a role and assuming a new meaning. From that event onward, they exist not as a pair but a triangle, with the cutie mark as the third bonded point, straddling both halves of reality."

She fixed the chair and continued speaking. "My own tinkering with the nature of cutie marks defies this natural state. The marks made by my hooves are not born from the bond between body and soul. However you came by the Artifice of Hope, it was given to you by physical means in the physical world, and as such was attached to your body, but not your soul. This mark is separate from your body, but is yet bound to your soul, in the way that only naturally manifested marks can be."

Corsica's chest tightened with a precursor to panic. "You mean I can still use it? Is it not gone after all?"

"It seeks a reunion with you," Luna answered. "As do all natural cutie marks when removed by worldly means. In absence of forces keeping it separate from you - first, the ship's engine, and now, my magic - it would surely repair its physical bond and return to your flank, as before."

Corsica felt cold. That couldn't happen. Going back was unthinkable. "How do I stop it?"

Princess Luna looked regretfully, even guiltily, at the special talent. "I could seal it away, perhaps. But do you understand that this mark is not mine, but yours?"

"Doesn't matter," Corsica insisted. "I know what it did to me. If it comes back, it doesn't matter how long I fight it. It'll eventually break me."

Luna looked her straight in the eye. "The mark that broke you was my Artifice of Hope. This mark is something different."

"So you're saying I just got my own special talent, and it's that?" Corsica raised an eyebrow. "Then what happened to the artifice?"

"I am unsure." Luna stared into the talent as it bobbed slowly in her aura. "This is your cutie mark. It is also an artifice, or at least has the power of one, but is no artifice of mine. In fact, it rejects me forcefully, and I am employing blunter methods than are usually necessary to keep it in my possession. The only answer I can fathom is that your cutie mark, as it manifested, consumed my artifice, twisting and repurposing its power toward your own ends."

Corsica's eyes went wide.

"Such an event is unprecedented and should not even be possible, at least with the laws of reality as I understand them," Luna added. "But I can think of no other explanation. And so I would have you tell me everything that could have caused this mark to change - times of great emotional breakthrough, encounters with the supernatural, anything that has happened since last we met. Within this space, we have as much time as you require."

Great. Time to talk without breaks for at least an hour.

If Corsica was doing this at any better time, she would have filtered her thoughts more, considering before each sentence whether it was or wasn't wise to tell a goddess. But as it was, she wanted answers, and could do nothing but trust they would be given in exchange for candidness.

And so she spoke. Her state of mind when she cast off her talent should have been the hardest to recount, but Corsica felt an odd sense of kinship with her dead elder self in the final moments of her life. That corpse had put everything she had into coming back to life, and in the fires of her funeral pyre, Corsica could almost recognize herself: the same heedless, sacrificial recklessness that had driven her to break the false ground around the train, consequences come as they may.

The actual hard part was discussing her second-to-last, second-greatest wish, that the efforts to revive the Flame of Kindness would succeed. Partly because she had pushed out those memories, and partly because of what happened after... She moved on quickly, covering the events in the crystalline Macrothesis for good measure, even though Luna already knew she had been there.

"I think I am beginning to understand," Luna said eventually, as Corsica started to run out of things to say. "Do you know what this cutie mark now represents?"

"Should I?" Corsica raised an eyebrow.

"It is yours," Luna replied. "Born to aid in granting your most fervent desire. You should know that desire better than any other."

Corsica looked down at the blankets that swaddled her splinted body. "I wanted my life back. To be free."

Princess Luna nodded. "This has become the Artifice of Rebellion."

Rebellion, huh?

Was that accurate? Corsica instinctively wanted to slap the label aside, but... wouldn't that be the point? She had always chafed at Icereach's rules, always wanted to see the world for herself and walk her own path. Had she thoughtlessly risked unknown consequences when breaking the train's illusory terrain solely for the sake of sticking it to the sake of a system she thought was dumb? When she thought about it this way, had her final wish been anything other than refusing to accept the consequences for all her other wishes?

"What does it do?" she asked hesitantly. "You said it's still an artifice? And it's not the same thing as last time?"

"I can only begin to guess," Princess Luna apologized. "You know more than many about the powers that underlie our world. The Elements of Harmony and the Societal Virtues, emotions or concepts that are as one with the laws that govern reality. My artifices were constructed to align with and draw from these laws. Your artifice employs similar mechanisms and a similar degree of power, to a sufficiently unnatural degree that I still name it artifice. Yet it is aligned with a concept that is not part of this world's foundation... and may be intrinsically opposed to those that are. I am no stranger to choosing one's personal justice over the status quo, but I am also a goddess of harmony whose being is interwoven with those laws. As such, to my senses, your cutie mark is more opaque than stone itself."

Corsica's ears fell. "So how do you know it's any different than it used to be? The old one could defy stuff pretty well, as long as it let me care to do it."

"Cutie marks born of one's own will are meant to help achieve one's goals, not hinder them," Luna explained. "They are by nature incapable of destroying the reason for their existence. But the Artifice of Hope was not made to grant your wishes. It was created for a far different purpose, and used to your own ends irrespective of that. Not so for this one."

"Oh, beautiful." Corsica rolled her eyes. "So now it's got a mystery drawback and I get to find that out by trial and error again. Here's an idea: why don't you hang onto it, destroy it, seal it away, whatever, and then I can pretend this never happened?"

Princess Luna stepped closer, fixing her with a piercing stare. "You don't believe you will need it again?"

Corsica looked right back. "You think I will?"

"In the scant few hours since your awakening," Luna coolly replied, "despite being physically crippled and lacking any resources to call your own, you organized an expedition to poke holes in my sister's train magic and somehow succeeded through brute force. From conversations I have had with some of your companions, you did this under the auspices of searching for Starlight Glimmer's missing mother, but from inconsistencies in your actions I suspect this was motivated by simple curiosity mixed with a disdain for things that are hidden from you. As an example, you were face to face with my sister only this afternoon, and made no attempt whatsoever to ask her for the information you desired."

Her bearing applied too much pressure for Corsica to even flinch. "...So?"

"Is this not your nature? To defy that which constrains you?" Luna asked, calm and regal, her mane flowing in the rising moonlight that peeked through the window.

"So what if it is who I am?" Corsica asked, too tired for a fight. "I'm still smarter than to kill myself using an artifice again."

"This is a power made to assist in accomplishing your goals," Luna said, turning to Corsica's special talent. "You may see it now as the target of your rebellion, but it is in truth a means of rebellion against whatever target you desire. Can someone like you choose not to use it?"

"Is that not what I'm doing right now?" Corsica pressed, wishing Luna would just take the thing away and let her sleep.

"Is that what you did with every wish you made upon the Artifice of Hope, knowing full well the cost?"

Luna's counterattack pierced her utterly, and Corsica slumped. "That's why I'd rather not have it somewhere I'd be tempted to use it."

"...Very well," Princess Luna said, withdrawing Corsica's special talent. "Then I shall do what I can to keep this from you."

Victory. Finally. But before Luna could leave, Corsica's curiosity won out: "Why were you trying to get me to take it, anyway?"

"You could not have created something like this without true passion," Luna said, turning to look back over her shoulder. "And I know well the pain of abandoning passions that have previously undone us."

"You... wanna elaborate?" Corsica invited, sensing that the conversation would take a very different turn if she kept it going.

"Do you know who I am?" Princess Luna asked, giving her an intense stare. "Do you know where I have been for the last thousand years?"

Corsica folded her ears.

"Living out a banishment upon the surface of the moon," Luna said, stalking to the window and staring out. "Who is it that passes judgement upon rebels, Corsica? It is the victors, after we have gone to war. I fought my sister, and lost. Her answer reigned supreme."

"Her answer to what?" Corsica asked, a chill seeping in through her blankets from the aura that Luna exuded.

"To the question of what should be done with the Societal Virtues," Luna answered, mane blowing in the moonlight. "Their use came with incalculable risks. It was a question that had no safe answer, but I believed we ought to stand as equals. She believed that she alone should determine when their use was worth the risk. Force of arms was the only venue we could accept to determine our answer, after all others had been exhausted. And her answer won out."

She took a deep breath, then turned to Corsica. "What do you think happened today, with the powers that were given freely to Twilight Sparkle? And what process do you think went into that decision?"

Corsica had a bad feeling that no matter how she answered, she couldn't change the point that was coming. So she stayed silent, and swallowed.

"My sister had her opinion," Princess Luna said. "I had a different one. The matter at hoof was the use of a Societal Virtue, exactly the same as before. And so I bent the knee, out of respect to the previous answer we reached and a desire not to repeat the process of reaching it."

"What?" Corsica gave her a stern frown. "So you mean you weren't on board with giving Twilight those powers, but went along with it because you lost a fight about it before?"

"Because I knew the consequences of my previous rebellion," Princess Luna corrected. "Lest you think my sister took advantage of me, it was I who insisted my own position not be taken into account. She was willing to listen, and together come to a new answer. I refused, because even though the form of the debate might change, even though its consequences might differ from what they were before, I could not bear to put myself in that position once again. And that is much the same as the words I now hear from you."

"You think me being afraid of that artifice is the same as you not wanting to talk about the Lovebringer with Princess Celestia?" Corsica asked, her mind running through ways to disagree and realizing none of them would work.

"You can resolve to no longer fight your fight," Luna said, turning once again to leave. "But no amount of resolution can keep you from situations where you will be tempted once again to do so. As someone who has walked a similar path before, and who now seeks to atone for the consequences of their fight, I hope you can use my experience to see your path to a different conclusion."

"...What do you want me to do?" Corsica called out as Luna reached the window. "What are you trying to steer me towards, here?"

"Controlling the paths of others is neither my desire nor my duty," Luna answered, not looking back. "All I can do is offer you the experience of those who have gone before."

Corsica didn't stop her. Princess Luna melted into the moonlight, and was gone in a trail of starry fog.

A minute passed, and then another. Was the dream supposed to keep going, or...?

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her special talent, hanging in the mirror above her dresser.

The moonlight grew grayer. Corsica felt a chill.

"Just a dream, right?" she muttered to herself, untangling the covers and slipping out of bed. "No consequences in the real world, right?"

Her legs worked without the aid of a roller. In fact, she felt almost weightless as she approached the vanity, but the special talent disappeared before she got there. The mirror reflected her room with the bed neatly made, and no sign that she was there at all.

Corsica huffed. Spooky dream.

Hoofsteps sounded in the hallway outside her room.

Corsica stepped over to investigate, her shoes clacking against the wood floor. Was that Twilight's voice? She slid her door open.

"I really don't know, darling," Rarity said, walking at Twilight's side towards the library. "I don't see any issues with continuing trying to help her, at least not any for us. And I do feel simply horrible about what happened to her, losing her friend and all. My only concern is that I don't know if continuing to follow us around is really in her best interests."

Twilight bit her lip.

"I completely understand your point about not wanting to abandon her, too," Rarity quickly added. "It's just, there's a very large difference between abandoning someone in need and entrusting them to someone better-suited to helping them. And I don't know what we can do, especially with all this Ironridge business coming up, to help someone who seems to have completely lost the will to live."

Corsica shuddered. Were they talking about her? Was this how Twilight and her friends felt when her back was turned?

Of course not; this was a dream. Besides, she might have lost the will to live before, but she was better now. Though, since that was the case, why was she dreaming about this?

"If only we weren't cooped up on an airship," Twilight complained. "If we didn't all have cabin fever too, it would be that much easier convincing her to take an interest in things again, but the moment we reach Snowport I'm going to have at least two all-nighters before I can relax. Either we hope that she finds it easier to take an interest in getting out of bed once there's somewhere else to go, or we hope that someone in Snowport or the Crystal Empire knows enough about her condition to help, but either way, but either way I don't like how little that leaves for us to do while we have time to do things!"

Corsica loitered behind them, placing bets on how long they'd take to notice her.

"Maybe it's my issue for just not being okay with being unable to help someone, but I've tried!" Twilight insisted, frustration visible in the frizzing of her mane. "Or maybe I just don't like admitting defeat to the kinds of problems Starlight warned me about. I guess... well, maybe I'll try one more time before we make landfall." She shook her head. "Whether she lets me do it nicely or not, I'll have her out of bed for our landing. If I can do that, I'll call it enough of a step in the right direction that I can rest easier."

"Good luck, darling," Rarity offered, stopping at the entrance to the library. "I don't imagine it will be difficult to find her."

"Thanks." Twilight nodded, and continued across to the stairs.

Rarity, for her part, watched Twilight go... and then turned around to go back the way she came, walking right through Corsica with a soft staticky fuzz.

Corsica blinked. Then she caught up to Twilight and waved a hoof through her, to much the same effect.

They didn't just not notice her. She wasn't even real.

Twilight turned down the stairs, face set in determination. Corsica followed her, the moonlight growing colder as she realized what she would see.

In the observation room, the giant window showed Snowport dead ahead, the Immortal Dream flying low over the water. And in one of the hammocks was a pink lump that could scarcely even be called a pony.

Corsica felt something akin to a spike of static as her eyes fell upon her past - no, future - self. And then Twilight asked, "Is it a bad time?"

Future Corsica raised her head with a start, telltale signs of tears matting the fur around her eyes. "Whaddya need?" she asked, her voice grating against Corsica's mind. "If it's a reminder that we're almost there, I don't have much to do to prepare."

Corsica stared at her. Her future self looked somehow more equine than her memories made her out to be, though she had done her best to separate her memories of this time and only keep what she needed to avoid any awkward situations. Sure, she was dead inside. Corsica didn't even need to see her eyes to tell that. But she clearly had a lot more emotions than Corsica had remembered.

"Actually, I'd like to talk about your cutie mark," Twilight said, reminding Corsica that she wasn't alone with her future self. "Artifice of Hope? Emotionally drains you in exchange for granting wishes?"

"What about it? Need to use it for something?" Future Corsica propped her head up enough to look at Twilight without getting a crick in her neck. "Not like I've had much to use it on since we left Our Town."

Corsica could tell. Now that she was face to face with her past, she could remember the effects of the artifice on her body down to every excruciating detail: it didn't just sap her willpower, it made her feel like a marionette with fraying strings. Her future self's eyes were haunted and her coat unwashed, but there were those few tiny extraneous movements - a twitch of the tail, a flick of the ears - that revealed she could move if she wanted to. She just had no reason to.

"So you haven't been using it this last week and a half," Twilight said, clearly unable to see the telltale signs of life Corsica could. Though, those signs of life didn't count for much... "That was the next thing I was going to ask."

"Does that mean you've got a really big job?" Future Corsica asked, looking entirely indifferent about the prospect of dropping another mountain on her psyche. "As long as you're willing to lug around my carcass until I recover."

Why was Corsica dreaming about this? She kicked herself with the sharp edge of a shoe, and all it did was make her leg hurt. Ow.

Twilight steadied herself and set her face in a stern frown. "Get out of that hammock."

Future Corsica looked confused. "Not something I can do from here, then? Fine..."

Corsica didn't remember this. Did she? Why would she, at any point in her life, have gone willingly to use her accursed artifice for something she didn't even care about? She remembered the effects of the artifice, but... but...

No. She did remember. That yawning abyss, that utter lack of light, having no reason not to let herself be destroyed because she had nothing worth saving her strength for. On the outside, Future Corsica was as recovered as she could get, and could physically survive another use of her talent. On the inside, the damage was already done. She had nothing left.

Just a pink, fluffy, dirty, raspberry-maned corpse. The fire in her eyes had been replaced by a void long ago, so vast that Corsica felt her hard-won fire flicker against the emptiness.

"I'm not asking you to use your talent!" Twilight cried. "What I want is for you to get out of bed!"

Future Corsica obeyed, but clearly didn't comprehend. She more flowed out of the hammock than climbed, putting in so little effort that Corsica's gut wrenched just watching her.

Why was she seeing this? Who had decided that she look back upon her own darkest hour? Princess Luna? No...

No, this wasn't her darkest hour. This was someone else's. Someone she had cast off and discarded, along with all their weariness. Someone she looked like, but no longer was.

And 'looked like' was a stretch. Future Corsica was bigger than her, a full-grown adult in perfect physical health. She even had some degree of exercise, and her body looked like it hadn't quite forgotten the time when it was well-taken care of. Despite the obvious signs of personal neglect, Corsica realized it was impressive how good she had looked. Had she once shone so brightly that she still had this much left, even at the end?

It shouldn't have mattered. She didn't need to look back anymore now that she had reclaimed her past glory. She was her real self, and this was a dead faker living inside an empty shell, similar to her only in that it had desired to be her.

Twilight and Future Corsica started arguing, but Corsica brushed aside Twilight's words even more easily than her future self. Why was she seeing this? What was the point?

Eventually, Twilight won. Future Corsica left her behind, walking into the mess hall on a route that would take her up to the deck, where she would finally be free.

Corsica followed, a cascade of emotions gushing across her future self's face. Loathing, acceptance and despair, realization and yearning. Resignation and rage, and beneath it all a directionless desire to fight. The last embers of a flame that was about to come back to life.

She reached the deck. Corsica could see Snowport in the distance, but the void around her future self was so all-consuming, its tunnel vision extended down to her: she couldn't clearly make out the others on the deck, even though she knew they were there. It was just her and her future self, standing there at the edge of eternity.

Future Corsica's consternation faded, a drop of curiosity wiping the dust from a window. An idea seemed to cross her mind. And then she made eye contact.

"I wish I didn't have this special talent," she whispered to her past self.

Corsica stared back.

"I wish I didn't have this special talent," Future Corsica whispered more forcefully. "I don't want it. I wish I had never gotten it. I'm done being a sacrifice for ponies who don't appreciate it and throw me away once I'm burnt down to a stub. I wish it had never worked this way in the first place! Now get off my flank!"

She was right, wasn't she? That wish still burned at the core of Corsica's flame. Was this mare everything she had left behind, or everything she had striven towards at the end? She was both. Death and life, together as one.

Future Corsica's eyes focused, and she saw Corsica anew, regarding her with apprehension and embarrassment and primal lust. She knew what she was. She felt and lived every bit of the death and decay that bogged her down, the weariness from friendships spurned and bonds lost, but she knew who she wanted to be. She stared at Corsica with eyes like a ravenous beast, that needed her like she had never been needed before.

"Come on," Corsica breathed, extending a hoof to her future self. "You can do it. This is who we were meant to be. You don't need that. You want to be me!"

"I want to go back!" Future Corsica screamed, her voice cracking as she reached for Corsica. "I wish I was who I was before I got my special talent. I wish none of this had ever happened!"

Corsica's heart hammered in her chest, blindingly aware of how brightly she burned in the emptiness. "Grab on!" she urged. "I want you, too! The worthwhile part of you! We do have a future, and it's great!"

"This wasn't a fair trade!" Future Corsica wailed, straining towards her. "Let me go back! I wish I was free!"

Corsica glared at the artifice that was holding her back. Was this why she was here? Was it a reminder of what she had fought to escape from? In reliving her darkest hour, was she also reliving her moment of triumph and rebirth?

There, on her future self's flank, was the target of her rebellion. Something she had to be free from at all costs.

"Don't worry," Corsica whispered, burning brightly as her future self flailed and fought. "I'm here to help you. It's going to be alright."

A strange ecstasy filled her as she partook of her future self's struggle, their two flames burning as one in the darkness. She pulled, tugging Future Corsica away from the artifice... and as she pulled, she realized she had the capacity to do more.

Right there, on her own flank. The source of all her torment, weaponized to work for her instead of against her. If anything deserved to feel the way her future self had been made to feel, it was the artifice that had done this to her in the first place.

Corsica reached into the back of her mind for a mountain to throw at her future self's artifice.

Instead of a mountain, a sword appeared.

Black and nondescript, it had a circular hole in the hilt that was roughly the size of a hoof, and its blade was wrapped in black chains. But Corsica grabbed it without hesitation, striking and twisting at the artifice on her future self's flank, disfiguring its lines and prying it away... and with a pop, it sprung free, just like a stuck gasket when faced with a crowbar.

Future Corsica was rent in twain, a flame that exploded into Corsica's chest, same as had always been there, and the darkness, an ugly little thing that she barely had a chance to look at before the feeling of static electricity overwhelmed her, and forced her awake.