Luna and Wild walked through the Everfree Forest, and the beings and creatures stayed away from them despite their obvious exhaustion. Their instincts screamed at them not to attack the two, and they were wise to listen. They followed the two at a distance, carefully observing, but never too close, never with enough attention to be perceived as a threat. The darkness, even as it dissipated into nothing, continued to cling to the two for as long as it could. Power, too, was evident in and around them, and echoes of the seemingly impossible and decidedly unique lingered. Once the two were out of the Everfree, it seemed as if the entire forest sighed in relief, and the beings and the creatures returned to their usual lives. It had been a long time since unbound spirits visited the Everfree, but the Everfree had a very long memory, and the forest knew it would be best to leave an unbound spirit alone.

Wild felt... strange. Perhaps it was the shock of being alive after dying - almost dying... or whatever it could even be called. Everything seemed to have a brighter, clearer quality. He could feel more, be it within himself or what surrounded him. He was distinctly aware of his breath and his heartbeat, of how his skin felt on his flesh, how his flesh felt on his bones, and how interconnected it all was. He could almost hear the rush of blood that followed the rhythm of his heart, how the neural signals traveled through his body to his brain, it was an odd feeling. And the outside... he could feel the ground give under his hooves just a little bit with each of his step. He could almost feel how the air brushed against and past him as he walked. The light felt interesting against his fur too, the warmth transferring through it to his skin. He was aware of the pressure, the temperature, and other sensations he couldn’t quite describe, all as if he was thrust into feeling everything that concerned his body almost all at once.

However, he could ignore it for now - there were far more important things to think about, and a lot of them concerned the person walking alongside him - Luna. He felt embarrassed that he gave in during his moment of weakness and hugged her, but it was somehow funny that it was the first thing that came to his mind, and a hysterical laugh threatened to break out of him. Hugging someone was magnitudes less important than coming back from death. He died, he was nothing but his own soul, and he pieced himself back together and returned from where others, as far as he knew, could never return from.

What did that make him? Was he a human or a pony? Was he something else? Did his first death change him, more than just giving him a new body? There were many questions he could ask, but he doubted there were many answers to find. Where would he even search for them? He had a feeling that not many people ever experienced what he had. Something told him it was once a millennium kind of occurrence - if not one in many millennia.

It appeared as if he was on his own once again, having experienced what he feared no one else would ever understand. Was he doomed to be different from others forever, unable to fit in at all? That very thought was in the back of his mind ever since he appeared in this new world, but now it was amplified and at the forefront of his mind. Undoubtedly, if more people knew about who and what he was, he would never be able to live his life peacefully.

With a feeling of bitterness, he realized that he had never had a peaceful life. It appeared this fact wouldn’t change, as much as he hated it.

He knew he was different from ponies, he felt he was more different from them, and now the differences morphed into a chasm one couldn’t cross, with him entirely alone on one of the sides.

There was a feeling, a sensation he tried not to pay much attention to. He felt... disconnected. Not from reality as a whole - he felt it more than ever before, in truth. He was simply aware of the rest of the world in a way that he couldn't put in words in any of the three languages that he knew. However, despite this sense of being connected, there was something missing now, something between his body and his soul, and the distinction between the two couldn't be any clearer. He felt like he could just float away and leave his body behind. If he were honest with himself... he did not just feel like it, he knew it would happen if he let it. There was still some sort of connection between his body and his soul, something that allowed him to still be physically present. His body still belonged to him, he knew, but he could easily leave it - and remain alive, for a given definition of it. It was a scary prospect, but the longer he thought of it, the longer it... made sense.

Those strange dreams of when he wandered around the orphanage at night, they weren’t dreams. They were real even if he wasn’t aware of it at the time. He now recognized them for what they were - signs of what was to come, signs that he wouldn’t be attached to his body forever. His soul... it had already departed one body. Why would it be limited to his second body?

He. Was. Free.

He was free in a way he had never thought he would be.

And he didn’t know what to do with it.

While Wild mused about himself, Luna was trying to find a way to talk to him about everything that had happened. Frankly, she didn’t know where to even begin. Too much had happened in one day, and she feared she had damaged her relationship with Wild in a way that couldn’t be easily repaired if at all. It was her fault it all happened in the first place, after all. She was the one who gave in to the temptation of the Nightmare, she was the one who let them in and allowed them to continue to exist. Even with her free from their influence - influence she had once welcomed - they remained, and she knew she should’ve dealt with them - could have dealt with them - before they found their next victim. Unfortunately, she did not confront them until it was too late.

Despite her grievous mistake, Luna was thankful Wild wasn’t killed, wasn’t torn apart, wasn’t consumed. His soul, as damaged as she could see it was, did not depart as it was torn from his body. Instead, he fought for himself, fought to stay, and he won. The Nightmare was now no more, and Wild was alive. Even better, Luna didn’t die either, although she was very aware of the possibility when she tried her best to fight the Nightmare.

A part of her whispered to her that her death would repay for all that had happened to others because of her. She chased that part away and locked it tight. Her death would bring more harm than good, she reminded herself. She couldn’t, didn’t want to imagine how grief-stricken her sister would be if she were to die. She didn’t want to think about what would happen to all the foals that looked up to her for guidance and advice, all who needed her help. Her death would irrevocably damage even more than she could possibly imagine, she knew that, and so she chased the thought away, banishing it to the depths of her mind along with all the bitterness, sadness, loneliness, and anger. She couldn’t afford to let any of it to take over her lest she would do yet another costly mistake that would hurt herself and everyone around her.

As she tried to find words to talk to Wild, he surprised her by speaking up first.

“What...” he said slowly, and the two stopped, “What if I agreed to, um... with them?”

Luna had to know it was coming, and so she repressed a sigh. Undoubtedly, the Nightmare gave him a choice - to serve them or to be destroyed and consumed. Luna had not thought about the second option when she willingly let the Nightmare in, buying into their promises. She got what she wanted - the power to bring about the Eternal Night and, with that, the power to fight against her sister.

Her own sister. To fight her to death. She had not question it then, and the horror of it struck her only on one of the more lonely nights after her return. She didn't see anything wrong with killing her sister. What did that say about her? Did this thought belong to her all along or did the Nightmare plant it? Luna didn't want her sister to die, and she would never want to be her killer. However, that was what she thought now, but what had she thought then? She hoped it was the Nightmare that influenced her as they latched on her very soul, but there was simply no way to tell. The Nightmare, if they knew the truth, would never have revealed it, and now the very possibility of learning it was gone forever.

She thought she remembered how wrong it had felt then, but she had pushed that thought away, believing the ends would have justified the means. All she wanted was to be loved, to be admired - and it was then twisted by herself and the Nightmare, and her desires changed - she wanted to be feared, to be in power, to dominate over all who stood against her.

She had been foolish, and her punishment was not only to outlive nearly everyone she cared about but to never even be able to see them grow old. Even as her sister lived, so close yet so far for many centuries, others had disappeared into nothingness, death not sparing them as they aged. If they had children, they grew old and died as well, and their own children followed, and then the children of the children, and on and on it went until those Luna knew were not even a distant memory of their descendants.

When Luna finally returned, it wasn't to triumph but to graves centuries old, and she mourned those she had known even as they lay forgotten by most. She had cried tears unnumbered, knowing that it was her fault they died without her, only knowing of her betrayal and foolishness, never able to ask her why, never able to talk to her. She wished she could speak with them again, to explain herself, to beg for their forgiveness, but they were gone, irretrievable and irreversibly, and no power would be able to return them even if she was selfish enough to do so.

Luna knew exactly what the Nightmare offered - and what they gave in truth.

“You would have gotten power,” she explained, her voice as steady as she could make it, “You would feel like you could do everything. Like nothing is beyond your grasp, like no one can challenge you. You would have grown physically too, becoming stronger, taller. You would be beyond what you would have ever been able to accomplish by yourself.”

Wild could see a ‘but’ coming. Promises of power never came without their own pitfalls. A brief thought surfaced - what would he do if he had that much power? He feared he didn’t want to know the answer.

“You would have also changed mentally,” Luna continued, “Your reaction would be faster. You would think faster. You would think smarter as well. But that is not the extent of mental changes,” she closed her eyes for a brief moment, pausing, “Your entirely personality would change too.”

Luna stopped then, memories flashing before her eyes. Her bitterness, her anger, her hatred, her fear, her hope, everything was twisted in service of the Nightmare, and she had welcomed it then. One the Nightmare was gone from her, she hadn’t spoken much about it, never discussing it even with her own sister. She only ever told her that she was not herself. It was the truth... but it was also a lie.

“Your worst qualities would be brought to light,” she said, “Anything negative would be heightened. Envy, greed, bitterness, anger, hatred. You would feel as if the entire world was wrong and needed you to change it. You would feel as if... as if everyone who stood in your way was an enemy,” she looked him in the eyes, “Everyone. Friends or family, it didn’t matter.”

Luna had to stop and recollect herself again, feeling as if she would babble and rant, perhaps even break down and cry, and that wasn’t what Wild needed right now. Her burden was only for her to bear, and those who depended on her should never have to deal with it. However, he must listen to what she had to say, to hear her, to know what the Nightmare was so that there would be no temptation in the future. The Nightmare wasn’t the only being promising power in exchange for something, and many would fall for such promises if pushed.

“I have tried to kill my own sister,” Luna confessed, and Wild’s eyes widened in surprise, “I now know I was not exactly myself, but... the Nightmare does not - did not - create what was not there before.”

“Then it is good I killed them,” Wild said, his tone uncertain as he refused to look at Luna.

“Yes, it is,” Luna nodded, “The Nightmare has a history of turning people against their own families, friends, themselves. Their path is littered with violence, death, and suffering. Now, with them destroyed, they cannot hurt anyone anymore.”

As Luna looked at Wild, she saw the tension disappearing from him, a relief she could almost feel herself.

“I killed... others... because of the same,” he confessed. “Because they did violence and death and suffering. They... violated me,” he said quietly, repressing a shudder, “They violated others. And I killed them for that.”

There was defiance in his eyes now, as if daring Luna to somehow argue against it, to scold him, to tell him that what he did was wrong. Yet there was also fear - fear of her rejecting him, condemning him.

“Good,” Luna nodded, and that surprised Wild even though a part of him knew and hoped she would say it.

“They branded me,” Wild continued, shifting uncomfortably yet forging straight ahead. Even as he hated revealing it, even as the urge to run away surged again, he needed Luna to fully understand, to see why he had to do what he did. There was simply something within him that needed her... approval. With a start, he realized that approval was exactly what he sought from her.

“The round scar, yes?”

“...yes,” Wild sighed shakily. Perhaps he should be more concerned with the fact that Luna eyed him while he was asleep, but he didn’t find it in himself to care. What was out was out, after all.There were also more important things, and he wasn’t dead, and he wanted... something better, “I want to remove it.”

“It will be removed,” Luna assured him, “And...” now it was her turn to be uncomfortable, “I must apologize for springing it all on you without warning. I meant it when I said I am sorry for it, and I hope you will understand that this apology comes from the depth of my very heart,” she said sincerely, “What I did, it was... insensitive. I didn’t go about it the right way. I put stress on you, and it resulted in...” she made an all-encompassing gesture.

Wild didn’t know whether to say that he forgave her for whatever she thought she did wrong by him or to hold it against her. Mostly, he was very tired and didn’t feel like doing much of anything. He wanted to rest, wanted to sleep, wanted to pretend like this day had never happened. He died yet he lived, he had to fight again.

“I don’t know if...” Wild frowned as he struggled to find the words, “I want to accept your sorry,” it was not her fault he was broken, “I do that. It is not your fault.”

He was a coward. He would have run away regardless. This harsh lesson, as far as he was concerned, was needed. It was just another part of his life, and he had accepted it. Some would say there would have been an easier, better way - he was not convinced. There were many lessons he had learned, and most of them were harsh, and he thought he would have never learned anything if they were anything but that. When his father was hurt, he learned of the unfairness of the world when he struggled to find a job and struggled to recover. When his father... died, he learned that he had not been enough, that nothing he did was enough. When his mother died, he learned that the world would never be fair, and that it didn’t matter what kind of person you were - life would find a way to make you suffer. When he was... enslaved and abused, he had learned the state of absolute and utter helplessness. As he escaped and worked on his revenge, he had learned patience and ruthlessness, and he finally embraced his inner desire for violence and harm as he aimed it at those who had hurt him. When all was done and he was ready to die, he knew the best way to deal with the struggles of life was to die, as nothing he could do would change the past nor make the future worth looking forward to.

Having been reborn... he didn’t know what to think of all the lessons it offered. Perhaps he would know one day, perhaps not. He knew it would be a struggle either way. He would be a fool to think otherwise.

***

When Luna and Wild returned to the Royal Orphanage, they came back to people worrying - their disappearance was noticed.

“There was an emergency,” Luna explained, having talked to Wild about what he wished others to know about what happened. Namely, he didn’t want anyone to know the truth, “It has been dealt with.”

When Luna and Wild went their separate ways - the former to write down the experience and look up some obscure books on spirits and the latter to sleep - Luna finally noticed the talent mark on Wild’s flank. Usually, someone gaining a talent mark - or special mark - was a cause for celebration, as it was one of important milestones for a pony on the way to adulthood. However, Luna knew Wild would like anything other than celebrating this day, and she made a mental note to send him a written note later so that he wouldn’t be stressed by others wanting to congratulate him. She would also write to him that he was welcome to talk about his talent mark with her. While the nature of talent marks wasn’t exactly her area of expertise, she could offer some guidance and help to those who were concerned about their marks. Sometimes, talent marks were disappointing or confusing, and that had to be dealt with so that the pony in question wouldn’t feel resentment towards a part of themselves. A talent mark wasn’t everything to a pony’s life, and everyone needed to know it.

Luna sighed. She had had a long day, and she feared there was more yet to come. However, she was perfectly aware that taking care of foals was a full-time and a very consuming job, and she went into it anyway. She couldn’t give up even when an unusual case such as when an extra-dimensional being with loads of trauma, past and recent, needed help. There was no one qualified for something like that, obviously, but that didn’t mean nothing could be done. Now that she knew more, now that she established some trust with Wild, she would be able to work on all of this better even if things became more and more difficult.

For now, what she believed Wild needed was time. He was tired, and she didn't think anything more from her would be welcome, and so she let him go to his dorm. She didn't think anything bad would happen if he was alone for a while, at least. She didn't know whether he would choose to confide in anyone before their next meeting, but she hoped he would find some sort of relief anyway. She still wondered if it was wise to leave him be for as long as he was, but she believed, and his sister concurred, that Wild simply needed time to get used to the Royal Orphanage. She had hoped to ease him into something more than what he naturally got interested in, but the Changeling Invasion, and now the Nightmare had completely upturned everything, and now nothing was certain.

Luna reminded herself that she was strong, that she had been taking care of foals for a long time, that she had many successes over the years, before and after her ‘thousand year pause’. Wild was older, carried far more emotional baggage than anyone should ever have to deal with, but he wouldn’t be alone if she had anything to say about it.

She couldn’t give up, not on him, not on anyone, and that was an iron rule she would follow to her death if needed.

Author's Note

I have certainly given an impression that Equestria is a good place to live, but even Celestia and Luna make mistakes, which is a given considering the entire MLP show. Twilight Sparkle, Celestia's student, needed lessons on friendship after years under Celestia's tutelage. That certainly speaks something about Celestia, doesn't it?

As for Luna... she had spent a thousand years alone. She also comes from an entirely different time when it comes to societal norms, expectations, etc. And, well, everyone she knew is dead except her sister.

Both Celestia and Luna may have good intentions, but I believe both of them need absolute loads of therapy. And step down as rulers because there's no way centuries of being the very top didn't warp their perceptions of how things are actually working for the vast majority of the population.

As far as Wild is concerned... he's probably doing as best as he could, considering the circumstances, but he'd be a lot better off if proper professionals that don't serve in any other capacity helped him instead.

One last thing, a reminder that I'm certainly not a professional when it comes to mental health issues and how to help people who have them. Mistakes characters make in the story are partially my intention and partially just my own lack of knowledge and experience on the topic.