Chapter 7: Unbreakable

Luna approached slowly, allowing herself a moment to observe her supposed guide in silence.

He was still dressed in the same manner as last she saw him, his jacket and hat discarded around the room, his question mark umbrella propped up beside the chair. “What new game, indeed?” he wondered aloud, his face twisted into a frown. With paws, hooves, or magic, it all changed so rapidly, he reached over to a nearby table and took a long sip from a waiting teacup. “What fresh nightmare awaits?”

Solemnly, he put the cup down and crossed the study to sit at a work desk. Adjusting a magnifier stand into place, he began to toy with a set of strange, deep black objects spread out on the wooden surface, poking and prodding them with a set of tiny tools like an old clockmaker.

Taking a few stealthy steps forward, Luna managed to make out that the set of objects were actually pieces of a singular object. Though as to what that object was, she couldn’t be sure. But Luna did manage to spot what appeared to be Anugyptian hieroglyphics painted across those ebony pieces.

After a minute, the tools were tossed aside with a light curse. “No use,” grumbled the Trottish stallion, running a frustrated limb through his dark mane. “Ruined beyond repair.”

Luna cleared her throat. “Pardon me.”

The stallion turned sharply in her direction. “Hello,” he greeted. “I’m…” His brow furrowed in a comical expression. “That’s strange. I’m not really sure who I am.” He glanced down at his rapidly fluctuating body. “And I appear rather unstable.” He looked back up, taking in his surroundings before settling back on her. “Where exactly is this place, and whoare you?”

“You are…self-aware?” Luna blinked. “That is surprising for a mental construct.” More like shocking. It wasn’t often that Luna summoned this sort of help, but whenever she did, they were never aware of their dream nature, instead content to do her bidding and fill whatever role their form demanded. They did not have conversations with her.

Sunset’s mind continued to surprise, it seemed.

The stallion’s eyebrow lifted in challenge. “A construct? That’s rather rude, don’t you think?” he said, rolling his Rs. “Who’s to say you’re not the construct?”

“Nonetheless, it is true,” answered the princess, ignoring his question. “You are a construct of the mindscape around us. I ordered your creation to guide me through this living maze I have found myself trapped in.”

For a few moments, her guide said nothing. He lifted a foreleg, letting out a little hum as he watched it alternate between a hoof and a paw. “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Luna smiled. “You have read The Bard?” Whinney Shakespony was one of her favorite authors. A pity he’d come about just after her imprisonment. She would have loved to meet him.

“Of course,” answered the stallion firmly. “I…” he trailed off, frowning. “I can’t remember.” He scratched at his dark mane. “Are you sure you want me guiding you? My memory seems to be quite faulty.”

“It must be you,” said Luna. “No matter your memories, you should naturally be able to navigate through the maze in a way I cannot.”

His blue-gray eyes glanced toward the doorway back to the maze. “You said I was created by the mindscape,” he said casually. “But whose mind is this?”

There was something about the way he asked the question that reminded her of Celestia. The way her sister would fish for information when she was trying to work through a particular problem, assessing the pony she was speaking to as much as the issue at hoof, trying to figure out if she was being deceived.

This was a shrewd and intelligent stallion, one intent on figuring out exactly where things stood before he even considered helping her. Nothing less than the full truth would satisfy him, she knew. Not that Luna intended on lying, but she still found it a surreal experience, being evaluated by a mental construct in this manner, rather than having it bow to her every command.

How would he react to the answer, she wondered.

“Sunset Shimmer,” she said plainly. “Your daughter.”

His eyes widened. “My…daughter?” He turned away, brows furrowing in concentration. “I don’t remember her,” he muttered. “Why don’t I remember her?”

“That I can explain, though she may be mistaken,” answered Luna. “Even she admitted to the possibility. But all the same, she seems rather convinced.” From the emotions that had flickered across the unicorn’s face, Luna wanted to believe it, too.

The stallion leaned back in his chair, forehooves pressed together, humming to himself. “My daughter…” he whispered. After a few moments, he turned his attention back to her. His blue-gray eyes carried a darkness not unlike the sky right before the beginning of a summer storm. “And why, precisely,” he said, his voice threading the words with a dangerous undertone that gave Luna pause, “are you rummaging around my daughter’s subconscious?”

“I—”

“You also never introduced yourself,” he added flatly.

“My apologies,” replied Luna, forcing down the spike of adrenaline elicited by the stallion’s challenge. Moon and stars, it had been ages since a mortal had made her feel that way. “I am Princess Luna, diarch of Equestria. Watching over ponies’ dreams is part of my duties. Your daughter was a student of my sister. I can explain in greater detail on the way, but suffice to say, if I do not reach my goal, Sunset will die.”

“Die?” the stallion said breathlessly. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he shot to his hooves, gathering his jacket, hat, and umbrella. “We best be off before we lose any more time,” he said, breezing past her to the hallway beyond.

He gestured with his umbrella. “Come on, we have work to do.”

Waiting, it should be known, was never easy, even for an immortal.

Waiting for Luna’s return, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be saved rather than returned to the moon, had been agony. The years after Sunset’s departure had been a similar torture. And now both ponies were tied together in this new, possibly worse torture, waiting for life…or death.

By this point in time, the rest of Sunset’s friends had arrived, scrambling wildly to the edge of the bed once Twilight had finished helping them up to the room. None of them seemed to really take much consideration of the world around them, or their new bodies. They hardly even noticed her, a change of pace that Celestia couldn’t bring herself to enjoy.

Feeling overcrowded, Celestia quietly left the room, retreating to a nearby bathroom. Deliberately avoiding any glance toward the mirror, Celestia went straight for the sink, trying once again to wash her hooves. They still hadn’t come out. She poured on the floral-scented soap, scrubbing furiously. But just like every other time she tried, the result remained the same. Her snow white fur retained the telltale pink spots of faded bloodstains. Sunset’s blood.

Her hooves itched. Celestia applied more soap.

Drying her now raw forehooves, Celestia exited the bathroom, only to narrowly avoid a collision with Starlight Glimmer.

“P-Princess Celestia!” squeaked the unicorn, barely managing to keep a handle on the food-laden tray held aloft in her magic. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Celestia said evenly.

“I was just, uh,” the unicorn continued nervously. “I was bringing Doctor Horse some snacks. You know, since he’s waiting.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Starlight was nervous around her. Considering Starlight’s track record, anypony would have been terrified around her or Luna. But Celestia didn’t have the energy or focus to be consoling at the moment.

“I understand,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me.” She turned, ready to walk back to the bedroom.

“Wait!” cried the unicorn, freezing up as Celestia turned her gaze back to her. “Uh, Spike got this letter earlier.” She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a scroll. “He said it was for you.”

The solar diarch gave her a curt nod. “Thank you.” Truthfully, she’d gotten multiple letters this afternoon, but she hadn’t opened any of them. Dully, she realized she couldn’t delay anymore. She broke the seal, and began to read.

Your Majesty,

This is the fourth message I have sent today. I do not know where you or Princess Luna are at the moment, but it is imperative that you both return.

Your sudden absence has thrown your schedule into chaos. You must be here to reorganize it. There are governmental reviews to plan, not to mention meetings with the noble houses that you missed today. Your sister, too, has her obligations. The head of her staff has made me aware that tonight was meant to be a session of Night Court.

Speaking of night, the sun has still not been lowered. Ponies are starting to panic, and neither you nor your sister are here. Raven and I are doing what we can, but the nobles are raising a great deal of fuss. Duke Opal Mane is claiming your absence as a grave insult.

You must return. Canterlot needs you. This is not the time to play “hooky,” as they say.

Kibitz

Celestia groaned. The sun. She’d left the sun in the sky well past the normal time. But how could she not? At the time, she’d been suffering through yet another waiting period, waiting for a pompous surgeon to perform one of the miracles he was so acclaimed for.

And Kibitz had the gall to claim she and Luna were playing hooky. If she were clearer-headed, she might have realized his tone was an indication of his own stress. But she wasn’t, and all she could think about was how ponies were out there complaining about a little extra daylight, all while her little sun lay dying.

Celestia gave a barely restrained snort of annoyance, the sort of sound that would have the nobles fainting if they heard her make it, and then made her way to an empty room, looking out the window at the inappropriately afternoon sky. With a flick of her horn, she drove the sun back to its resting place, feeling none of the usual warmth that came with the task. Then, as she had for a solid millennium, she called up the moon to begin the night. Her sister would understand.

That done, she summoned a quill and parchment and wrote out a reply.

Kibitz,

I have fixed the sky. You can tell ponies to stop panicking. But with regards to myself and my sister, we will not be returning at present. We are not “playing hooky,” today. As far as your overstuffed schedule is concerned, you can throw it over Canter Falls.

Luna and I are preoccupied with an emergency that requires our full attention. Nothing else matters today. Nothing. You can tell that to Duke Opal Mane himself, if you wish, and if he still causes trouble, remove him from the palace.

Do not message me again, Kibitz. Do not send ponies to speak with me. You will wait until my sister and I return.

Celestia

As she sent the letter off, the white alicorn felt a stab of guilt over her brusque tone, but what was another drop compared to a lake?

Her forehooves itched again.

When she finally returned to the bedroom, Celestia found herself pausing in the doorway. The assorted ponies had shifted their positions from last time. Rainbow and the human Twilight were still at the bedside, the latter’s hoof wrapped tightly around Sunset’s. Fluttershy had joined them, whispering some kind of lullaby.

Applejack was leaning against one of the walls, the brim of her hat low and her green eyes-half lidded. Near her, Rarity fidgeted, doing her best to straighten what little was in the room. Pinkie Pie was closer to the bed, her curly hair drooping and only half-chewing some of the snacks Spike was offering her. Around the room, the pony Twilight paced slowly, completely absorbed in the wait.

Celestia was brought back to those strange autumn days so many years ago when she sat next to that lost little filly she’d found in a garden. By the sun, she’d been so small, then. So small, so powerful, and so very scared.

The doctors hadn’t been able to handle her. Only Celestia had managed to brave the filly’s wild magic surges and calm her down. Back then, Celestia had to use an ancient, highly difficult, and rarely-used Mind Whisper spell to bypass the language barrier.

She had almost used the spell today. When Sunset had thrashed violently in a fit of nightmares, Celestia had leapt forward, ready to do what she had done twenty years prior. But Twilight had held her back.

“Princess, you could interfere with Luna’s spell,” she’d warned.

Unable to argue, and frightened that she’d disrupt her sister’s efforts, she’d backed down, though it came with a great sense of bitterness, because how in the world could she be so useless? She was the pony that moved the very sun, who had ruled and defended Equestria for a solid millennium.

Decades ago, she’d been able to comfort that frightened and confused filly. But now she had nothing. Her very presence here had pushed her little sun to the edge of death, and she couldn’t even make up for it. And of course, that shock wouldn’t have even happened if Celestia hadn’t failed all those years ago.

If she hadn’t been a dirty coward, taunted a voice in the back of her mind that sounded suspiciously similar to Nightmare Moon.

She eyed her sister, still and silent, but not exerting herself, at least not like earlier. She wasn’t facing resistance at the moment. But how close was she to the goal? How close was Sunset to living?

With an internal sigh, Celestia closed her eyes, and sent up a prayer to her mother, wherever she was. “Please,” she begged under her breath, “Don’t let her be taken away from me. Not yet.”

Sunset’s father was proving, in Luna’s estimation, to be a very odd pony.

As the two of them began their trek down the endless halls, Luna had explained the situation to him in detail, about the containment spell and Sunset’s fragile body. But in the middle of those explanations, he’d broken in with questions about Equestria in general.

It was a strange thing, having to explain to a grown stallion the very basics of their world. Shouldn’t he have access to Sunset’s general knowledge, being created from her mind? Then again, how was it that Sunset’s deep memories couldn’t pinpoint her own father’s tribe?

“And this…spell,” asked her guide as they turned a corner, “you think it was done with malicious intent?”

“I suspect that may be the case,” answered Luna, drawing herself out of her musings. “To seal off memories so completely as to leave the subject as vulnerable as Sunset was, it does not strike me as the work of an upstanding pony.”

His expression tightened. “Point taken.”

For a long while, they fell in an uncomfortable silence, before Luna decided to break it. “Are we very far away from the spell?”

He didn’t answer, merely humming to himself as his foreleg brushed against the white walls.

“Are we very close?” she asked again.

“Too many holes,” he muttered, completely oblivious to her questions. “Far too many holes.”

Luna grimaced. She wasn’t really putting much force into her questions, but constructs usually cooperated without her having to try. At this rate, the novelty of his self-awareness was going to wear itself out rather quickly.

Finally, she spotted a door on her left. “There!” she cried. Luna galloped forward, reaching out with her magic to open it, only to have her path barred by an umbrella.

“That’s the swimming pool,” her guide scolded. “Ignore it.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

He sighed, tapping his umbrella against the door and somehow forcing it to open. Beyond the threshold, Luna beheld the verdant leaves of potted plants, and the crystal blue waters of a swimming pool so large, it would fit right at home in a sporting event. If she squinted, she could also make out some kind of statuary in the distance as well.

“The container isn’t in there,” said her guide. “You can check if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend going inside. Considering this place is a mental defense, there’s a good chance you could be trapped.”

Eying the room with suspicion, Luna reached out with her magic. The container was indeed absent. She turned away, letting the door shut behind her. “So there are traps now?”

“I don’t think it’s meant to be a trap,” corrected the stallion. “Only that it could be. I think it’s simply meant as a distraction.”

As they went down the hall, more doors appeared, but these, her guide told her, were not their destination, and he seemed to grow terser with each one. “That’s the garden,” he said, pointing at one with his umbrella when she began to approach. “Laundry room. Art gallery. Lagoon. No, no, that’s the kitchen,” he snapped. “We’re not looking for a jar of sugar!”

Luna knew she could be brusque herself, but even still, she chafed against the stallion’s rudeness. “You do not speak to me that way,” she seethed.

“Why? Because of your crown?” He gave her a disdainful look. “Crowns, I find, are poor substitutes for character.”

How dare he? Luna’s wings unfurled, and her eyes glowed white with fury. “THAT DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO SPEAK TO ME WITH SUCH INSOLENCE!” she screamed, bringing forth the full force of the Royal Canterlot Voice.

The amorphous stallion eyed her coolly. “I already told you, these rooms are distractions. We do not have time to waste on false leads.” He took a step forward, matching her glare with his own. “You told me my daughter is dying.”

Luna’s flare of anger vanished with a sudden rush of understanding. “My apologies,” she said, pulling her wings back to her sides. “I should have realized you were worried about her.” She averted her gaze. “I am…still adjusting to the fact that you are self-aware. It is the first time I have ever seen such a thing.”

“I can’t say being a self-aware construct is very pleasant,” he groused. “I know things without knowing how or why I know them.” He gestured at the doors around them. “I don’t like it.”

He turned around, continuing forward, with Luna trotting beside him. “I don’t even have my own memories,” he added irritably. “I don’t know who I am, or what I’m truly like, and I can’t even remember the one whose mind created me, my own daughter.”

It did seem like a horrible state to grapple with. Adrift in a sea of unknowns, not even truly knowing yourself. Not being able to recall your own life, or even your own foal. Having knowledge with no control whatsoever on the how or why. For a thoughtful stallion like this, it must be quite vexing.

“If you have more questions,” she offered, “you may ask them. I will answer to the best of my ability.”

For a minute, they dipped back into silence, and Luna fretted that perhaps she’d seriously offended him. She opened her mouth to offer another apology.

“What’s she like?”

“I cannot say much,” answered the princess with relief. “I only met her today, but my sister told tales. From her accounts, young Sunset is extremely bright and capable, a true prodigy. She is fiery in both appearance and temperament.” Luna felt a pang in her chest, remembering the way Sunset had snapped at her after Luna’s first foray into her mind. “But she is kind and loved deeply by her friends, who are gathered by her bedside even now.”

“At least she’s not alone,” said the stallion under his breath. “What about her mother? Have you found any clues?”

Luna shook her head. “None. Of the figures I have seen, you were the only one who provoked a significant reaction.” She paused. “She wishes to know you quite badly.”

The stallion looked away. “I wish I could help.” Sighing, he pulled out a gold watch from his pocket. He flipped open the brightly-painted lid, frowned, and then put it away. “I suppose the passage of time has no meaning here,” he said morosely.

“I might be able to check on Sunset.” She stretched out her magic, easing up into the dreaming part of the mind, careful not to disturb anything, and clenching her jaw at the effort. Finally, her magic brushed against the dream. Like a minotaur sticking their paw into a log, Luna felt around blindly, trying to get a sense for the dream’s nature and strength. What she found felt strong and placid.

She pulled back, and found her guide staring at her intently. “I cannot tell the exact content of her dreams,” she said. “But from what I can sense, she is sleeping both deeply and peacefully. She will rest for hours yet, though I will tell you now, her dreams were deeply disturbed by my previous efforts to break the container, and will likely be again.”

The stallion’s whole body sagged. “Thank you,” he said kindly. He took off down the hall again, but this time at a much more relaxed pace. Luna followed. “Why am I unstable?” he asked.

“Sunset Shimmer had a rather…turbulent adolescence, and parted with my sister on less than pleasant terms,” Luna explained. It wasn’t entirely the truth. But telling her father, even a facsimile of her father, all of the unicorn’s misdeeds seemed cruel. “Sunset fled across a magic mirror connected to a parallel world populated by creatures called humans. She has been living there for quite some time.”

The stallion nodded. “You think her sense of self-perception is confused.”

“Yes,” Luna replied. “Your form is displaying a sort of instability I have been witnessing through…out…” Luna trailed off when she realized her guide was no longer beside her.

She turned around, finding him lingering before another of the nondescript metal doors, staring at it with a perplexed and somewhat melancholy expression.

“Is this the correct door?” she asked, coming to stand beside him.

“No.” Grasping the handle, he pushed the door open, and Luna had to shield her eyes from the powerful influx of daylight that assaulted her.

When she managed to open her eyes again, she was greeted by the sight of a beautiful white beach curved against a vast, glittering ocean. Patches of palm trees sprouted here and there, and salted sea air wafted across the threshold, carrying with it the distant sounds of seagulls and laughing children.

Before she could stop him, her guide walked through the door. With a shout, Luna gave chase. “You said they could be a trap!” she hissed.

He wasn’t listening to her, though. He’d seated himself atop a sandy hill, under the shade of a verdant palm tree, watching the distant waves lap back and forth. “I took her here once,” he said mutely. “I can’t remember her, not exactly, but I know I took her here.”

Luna glanced back at the doorway. It was still there, still open. Taking this as a sign, she sat down beside him. “It is a beautiful landscape,” she commented. “Do you know the name?”

His brows furrowed, as if trying to physically dig out the memories. “Coralee,” he answered. “I took her here for a seaside holiday. I’d wanted to make up for some sort of recent difficulties.” Absentmindedly, he began to rub his neck, a gesture that, to Luna, seemed uncharacteristic of him. “Give us a place to rest and heal.”

Luna stored away these facts for later, all the while ruminating on the name. Coralee. She didn’t recognize it. Somewhere south, perhaps? The area was tropical enough.

“There was a storm,” the Trottish stallion continued, lost in thought. “A terrible one.” His face fell. “We nearly lost each other.”

“But you did not?”

“No,” he replied, breathing a sigh that seemed to carry the melancholy of decades, if not centuries. “Though it seems we’ve lost each other now. Life can be so cruel, can’t it?” He got to his hooves, brushing off the sand, before sedately heading back toward the door.

Luna followed him, stopping beside him as he stood in the threshold, casting one final look at the pristine beaches of Coralee. But for a moment, Luna thought she saw something in his expression shift. His blue gray eyes seemed fixed on something in the sky.

The alicorn turned her own gaze to the sky, following his line of sight. She frowned. It seemed like there was some kind of debris up there, and…were those two suns she saw?

“We shouldn’t linger,” said her guide, directing her back to the hallway.

It must have been a trick of the light, she reasoned.

For another ten minutes, they continued in silence, the stallion’s ever-shifting face seeming deep in contemplation even as he navigated the halls with practiced ease. “Did you travel much?” inquired the princess, wondering if perhaps he’d recalled other pieces of Sunset’s memory.

At that, he gave a small, mysterious sort of smile. “I think we were travelers by nature. Coming and going all the time. We even had a ship.” His face screwed up in concentration. “I can’t remember its name.”

So they were sailors? That would certainly explain the inability to find him. But then, Luna wondered, why hadn’t he come back, and how had Sunset ended up in Canterlot? Was their craft an airship of some sort? Or had they taken the train to the capital?

That’s when another idea occurred to her. Since he was both well-connected to Sunset’s lost memories, and self-aware, perhaps he could illuminate her as to the nature of the spell itself. “Can you tell anything about the container?”

The stallion paused again. “A very good question,” he said, sounding almost pleased. He closed his eyes, tapping a digit—oh, what had the minotaur’s called them again?—against his umbrella handle. When he opened his eyes again, his fluctuating mouth had twisted into a grimace. “It’s like a jigsaw puzzle.”

She must have given him some sort of strange look, for one of his eyebrows shot up. “How do you not know what that is?”

The lunar diarch tried her best to push down the heat steadily rising on her face. “I…have been out of touch with society for a very long time.”

Her guide didn’t comment on her feeble answer, thankfully. “A jigsaw puzzle is a simple toy. You make a picture on a piece of wood and cut it up into odd-shaped pieces so that you can reassemble the picture later.”

“So the container is made from pieces?”

“No, the contents.” He brushed his hoof against the wall. “ Her memories,” he said sadly, “broken into a thousand puzzle pieces, stuffed into a box, and shaken up. They’re constantly reforming. Pieces connecting into strings of the complete picture, then broken apart and returned to the pile.”

He stared into one of those strange glowing circles like it was a crystal ball. “Whoever did this shattered her mind,” he hissed, the handle of his umbrella shaking in his grip. “They shattered her mind.”

Once again, there was the flash of that dark anger in his eyes. It was a feeling Luna fully empathized with, for the same emotions were growing inside her the more she learned of the unicorn. But, also like before, that expression filled Luna with a sense of threat that put her on edge. His was the look of a pony who was far more dangerous than he appeared, and woe be to any who harmed his loved ones, be they god or mortal.

Just who was this stallion, she wondered.

The night alicorn cast a glance at the blank hallway. “You never answered my question.”

He turned back to her, his expression blank. “I thought I was answering your questions.”

Luna shook her head. “I meant the one I asked some time ago. I asked if we were close to the container.”

He looked a bit sheepish now. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No, you did not.”

“Oh. Well, let’s see.” He paused, looking around his environment, before a smile broke out on his face. “Actually, we’rerather close.” He pointed his umbrella at an upcoming turn. “If we take a right there then we’ll find it in two shakes of a train’s rail.” He broke into an energetic trot, following his own invisible path.

Luna blinked. She knew for a fact that it was lamb’s tail, but chose not to comment. Instead, she bolted after him, bringing herself back to his side. “I, for one, shall be glad to be free of this maze,” she grumbled after another ten minutes. “I grow quite weary of it.”

“I don’t know,” replied the stallion pleasantly. “I think it’s quite homey.”

“Homey?” Luna questioned. “How can a place like this even be considered—” Her question broke off as he barred her path with his umbrella. In front of them was a dead end, and embedded within the wall, a single door.

“We’re here.”

Luna took a step forward. “Are you not going to open it?” A part of her was surprised he was still around, given that his intended task was complete, but another part of her was glad for the company, and the chance to learn more of this foul situation.

Her guide shook his head. “The door is the container.” He gave a rueful smile. “It’s her room, you see.” He brushed a paw against the door itself, his long digits passing over the faintest traces of those strange circular patterns, and what, to Luna’s eye, might have also been a set of letters, though they were faded and blurred beyond legibility. He stopped at the Do Not Disturb sign hanging incongruously from the doorknob. “She took this from a hotel.”

Suddenly, the muffled chords of music rose up from behind the barrier, a loud, pulsing beat that Luna couldn’t identify. Her guide’s smile widened, becoming a touch warmer and more genuine. “Yes, definitely her room.”

Luna took a step forward, lighting her horn. “Stand back, and brace yourself. The environment will shift wildly once I begin.” Aiming at the now expanded crack, she landed her first blow.

“You mentioned that before, but what—” He didn’t get to finish before the world shifted. Gone was the endless living maze, and in its place returned the locked office above the workroom. Her guide gave a shout as he was knocked onto his plot by the sudden appearance of a desk behind him.

“I see what you mean,” he commented dryly, rubbing at his sore backside.

Luna attacked again, carving at another magical thread, and the world shifted to the underground chamber, and her target warped back into the ancient flask. Seeing it again, Luna felt a strange sort of malice emanating from the object, and combined with the horrible whispering in her mind, it only made her want to attack all the more.

“STOP!”

Luna turned sharply to face her guide, his expression grim. “What is it?” she asked.

He approached the flask slowly, bending down to put his face within inches of the dirty glass, studying it intently. “It exudes an aura of evil, this flask.”

She nodded. “I felt something similar. Do you think it is some sort of trap?”

Her guide shook his head. “No. It’s only superficial, attached to whatever the original was.” He cocked his head. “I think the same can be said of the voices.”

“What are they?” asked Luna, doing her best to ignore the constant chant about the fluid of life.

The stallion’s eyes darkened. “Monsters, ones that we would no doubt encounter if we left this room.” He used his umbrella to point to a staircase Luna hadn’t noticed before. “Thankfully, I don’t think they can enter here.”

“Are they defenses?” Sunset’s mind seemed to favor monstrous defenders more often than not, particularly creatures more wild and strange than Luna had ever seen. “I have never heard their like before.”

“I don’t think the haemovores are meant to be,” said the stallion, poking at one of the rune tablets that surrounded them. “But they would act as such, merely by playing their part.”

“Haemovores?”

“They’re a type of vampire,” said her guide. Then he shook his head vigorously. “But that wasn’t why I told you to stop.” Darting his gaze around the room, he turned back to her. “Attack it again.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “You tell me to stop only to ask me to continue?”

“Just do it,” he barked. “Attack it again. Make the environment change.”

Curious, Luna did as he asked, landing another strike against the crack. Immediately, the world shifted to the circus ground.

Her guide held up a hoof, craning his neck up toward the sky, then back to the container, and then turned to her. “I know what’s wrong,” he said darkly. “I know why she can’t remember anything, and I know why it’s killing her.”

Luna’s throat hitched momentarily. “What do you mean?”

He pointed his umbrella upwards. “Look up.”

Luna did, craning her own neck to follow. The gray, overcast sky was streaked with light. She almost would have called it lightning. But there was something familiar about the arcing motion, and of the shapes formed by the clouds.

Then it hit her. Nerves. The clouds were morphing into nerve cells, just like the ones she’d seen in Sunset’s memory. Ones just as red and angry.

“You said you witnessed light come out of the container prior to the change,” said her guide. “But I think you were so focused on your attack that you somehow missed the light going back in. You also failed to examine the ceiling.”

The alicorn looked at him blankly. “I…do not understand.”

“You call it a container, and there’s a crack in it. The contents are leaking,” he explained. “Logically, Sunset should remember the things she sees in her visions and nightmares. The things that leak out should stay out. But they aren’t,” he turned an angry blue-gray eye toward the cage, “because the container won’t let them.”

Luna tilted her head. “It is alive?” True, the spell seemed to be fighting back, but it almost sounded like he was ascribing true sentience to the thing.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But from what I can…sense,” he grimaced at the word, “its purpose is to contain. When something gets out, the container will eventually pull it back in.”

Luna turned to the darkened cage in horrified wonder as the words settled over her, and epiphanies bloomed in her own mind. “That is why the dream collapsed. It did not dissipate. It was broken down. It was pulled back here…”

“Yes,” agreed her guide. “Her memories are constantly leaking, triggered by outside stimuli, and from there, float up to her conscious mind, only to be forcibly ripped away and pulled back down into their box. That constant struggle, from conscious to subconscious, dragging information across the breadth of the mind, is causing the psychic equivalent of a friction burn.”

He jabbed his umbrella at the sky accusingly. “Look at that. If that were skin, it would be well past blistered. Her mind is screaming in agony, every new pass sloughing off another piece of her psyche, which results in—”

“Physical stress on her brain,” Luna finished, paling as she grasped his meaning. “Stress with no clear origin, and so severe it threatens to kill her.”

“Or shatter her psyche completely.” He glared angrily at the animal cage before them. “This container might as well be a time bomb planted in her subconscious.”

Red filtered Luna’s vision. What deranged mind had done this? Had they knowingly designed the spell this way, a failsafe to ensure Sunset never remembered her past? It was a cruel, ugly thing, and Luna’s horn glowed with a light that outshone even the brightest full moon, as if she were willing the cage’s unnatural darkness to dispel itself.

Her next words were an angry hiss that would have done Nightmare Moon justice. “If this foul thing be a time bomb, then I will disarm it.”

With a scream of fury, Luna relaunched her attack.

It started with a scream, a sound somewhere between fright and agony as Sunset, for the second time, thrashed in the bed as if struggling with some invisible enemy. It was a sound that nearly brought Celestia’s ancient heart to a stop.

“Tarnation!” cried Applejack. “Not again!”

“Sunny,” implored the human Twilight, “please, calm down. You’re okay!”

She couldn’t move. Her hooves felt as though they were welded to the very floor, melted by the incessant, burning heat under her raw skin.

“Getting in…” Sunset moaned. “Getting in…Can’t let them hurt…” Her right forehoof lashed out. “After me…worms…after…me…” Her whole body convulsed, and tears slid down her face. “Didn’t know his name…” She twisted violently to her other side. “…didn’t know she was…”

The raw sadness of it struck the solar princess like a javelin, hurling her to distant days.

A tiny filly crying into her side, half buried by the satin blankets of Celestia’s bed. I don’t even know their names, she whispered across the telepathy spell, pressing herself deeper into the alicorn’s side. Another flood of tears came pouring down her face, accompanied by a single, heartbreaking thought. Why didn’t they want me?

“This is dreadful!” cried Rarity. “Worse than the last time!”

“What do we do?” said Fluttershy, practically on the verge of tears. “We can’t wake her.”

“Maybe I can hug her,” said Pinkie, moving in close to try and hug the unicorn, and barely avoiding getting smacked in the face by a flailing hoof. “Or not!”

“What the hell’s Luna doing in there?!” roared Rainbow while Pinkie Pie made another attempt to hug Sunset.

“I’m sure she’s doing her best,” answered Princess Twilight, though the statement didn’t seem to comfort her at all as she watched the unicorn thrash, lost in the throes of nightmares.

“What if it kills Sunset in the process?” asked Spike.

Kill her?

Years of reproachful glances into the enchanted glass from her place on the throne, staring into her own eyes, imagining her reflection glaring accusingly back, hurling her own cowardice back in her face. Days deflecting questions about the addition of the mirror, preventing petitioners from touching it.

Nights spend in nightmares of a unicorn lost in an unknown world, devoid of magic with which to protect herself. Dark hours sitting in her bed, released from her visions, bathed in the light of her sister’s prison, drowning in self-loathing, wishing she could go back in time and undo her foolishness.

Panic choked every thought and warning in her mind. With a burst of strength that put cracks in the enchanted crystal floor, Celestia bolted forward. No. No more inaction! No more cowardice! No more running!

“Princess!” protested Twilight as Celestia shoved the alicorn out of the way. “What are you doing?! You shouldn’t inter—”

“To Tartarus with non-interference!” she snapped. “I’m doing what I have to!”

Lighting her horn, she weaved together the ancient spell with an ease that belied the decades since her last use. She pressed her horn to the unicorn’s flailing head, and whispered with all the strength and comfort she could muster.

You’re safe, Sunset. You’re safe. I’m right here.

Immediately, Sunset’s flailing began to subside, her night terrors retreating. Releasing a heavy breath, Celestia continued on. That’s it, my little sun. You’re perfectly safe with me. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’re safe…

Sunset’s dreaming mind was in agony.

She’d known, in some vague way, that her mind had been in pain before. But she’d defended herself…somehow…she couldn’t quite remember how, and her dreams had settled into a warm, white beach. It had been so wonderful, even if the two suns in the sky were weird.

Then the pain came back. The warm beach warped into a thousand different places. Monsters flashed before her eyes, and everything burned because something was being torn apart. She’d tried to defend herself, but it wouldn’t work, and she was left drowning in the searing agony.

You’re safe, Sunset. You’re safe. I’m right here.

The words floated down from someplace beyond, a balm against the torture. She leaned into the words, drawing closer to the sound as if reaching for a hug.

That’s it, my little sun. You’re perfectly safe with me. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’re safe.

She knew that voice, and she knew the words. So very familiar. She wrapped the words around herself, repeating them even as they were repeated to her. She was safe. She was safe.

The words triggered something from deep below, in that dark place that was hurting so badly, and the next thing she knew, she was lost in a new dream.

She stepped out onto the hard-packed snow, her boots crunching underneath her. “Bloody hell!” she cried…why did she say that? And what was wrong with her voice?

A rush of icy wind slapped against the bare skin of her face. Where was her coat? No, she had a coat, a bright red one that he’d insisted she put on instead of her favorite…her favorite something.

She hugged her forelegs to her chest, shivering a little in the thick clothing that didn’t protect her nearly as much as it rightly should have. “I thought you said these snow suits would keep us warm!” she called back irritably. “I’m freezing out here!”

Turning around, she saw somepony locking a set of doors. Or at least, that’s what the motion looked like. She couldn’t make out the doors very well. They were all hazy, as if she’d suddenly needed glasses as strong as Sparky’s…who was Sparky?

And why had it seemed like she’d missed something? Some word missing from the end of one of her sentences. A name, perhaps? Something was definitely missing, just like the details on the doors. Everything around her was an ancient, half-rotted film reel, chunks of frames damaged and obscured.

The one locking the doors wasn’t fairing much better. He—she felt she could be certain in calling it a “he,”—couldn’t seem to decide what he was. And yet, despite his physical uncertainty, his features were still intimately familiar to her somehow.

“It would be working perfectly well if you’d have let me finish,” he admonished. “Here.” He reached over, pressing a switch in the collar of the coat that she hadn’t noticed before. Intense, but pleasant heat surged over her body, as if she’d been wrapped head to toe in an electric blanket. The wind still blew against her face, but it was now as warm as a spring breeze.

“Thermal shielding,” he said in answer to her questioning gaze. “Not only through the clothing itself, but also as an invisible layer of heat over any exposed skin. Something I was in the middle of telling you about before you decided to venture outside prematurely.”

She felt a second surge of heat to her face that had nothing to do with the coat. “So, where are we?” she asked quickly. “The south pole?”

He smiled inscrutably. “Are we at the south pole?”

She recognized the tone, her mind snapping to attention. Initiative test. It was like what she did with Princess…she couldn’t remember. Immediately, she scanned her surroundings. A little ways away, she saw a piece of rock jutting out from the blanket of fresh snow. “We’re on solid ground,” she said. “So we can’t be at the north pole.”

This got her a nod of approval. “Go on.”

She kept searching. They’d landed right up against an ice cliff of some kind, which only furthered her knowledge that they definitely weren’t at the north pole. Otherwise, the landscape was pretty devoid of any pertinent details. There had to be something else, though, some other clue he expected her to find. He wouldn’t be pressing her otherwise. She couldn’t let him down.

She looked up toward the bright blue sky. That certainly looked like Earth…why wouldn’t it be Earth? Shielding her eyes, she moved her gaze to the sun, and paused at what she found. “The sun’s too small,” she answered. “Alien planet?”

“Full marks,” he beamed. “This is the planet Chione, circa twenty-sixth century. The temperatures here easily drop to below freezing even in the height of summer, which, incidentally, only lasts a single month.”

Well, that explained why he broke out the sci-fi snow gear, though she had to admit, she still felt a little uncomfortable without her…what was it?

Her companion—oh, that word sounded so familiar, wonderful and painful all at once for reasons she couldn’t quite reach—continued on. “Thanks to the thermal shielding in these suits,” he gestured at his own jacket, a cream white decorated with red question marks, “we’ll be able to walk around without covering our faces. Better to converse with the locals that way, I find.”

“What locals?”

He gestured to a nearby ridge, pulling a telescope from his pocket. “Have a look.”

Accepting the telescope, she trudged her way to the edge of the ridge, peering out at the distance. She saw an endless sea of white. Nothing but mountains and glaciers and…

“Hang about,” she said, and for a brief moment she wondered where the words came from. That didn’t sound like her. “Is that a city?”

It was. A city of white and blue, gleaming in the dim light, white spires reaching high into the sky like mountain peaks. The streets below teemed with…no, it couldn’t be. That was too insane. Or was it? After traveling with him, she’d seen enough that it shouldn’t throw her, but somehow, it still did.

“Those are penguins!” she cried in disbelief. Were there penguins in the Frozen North? She tried to connect the thought, but the line was broken, the other end slipping away.

“The Chionans are a race of highly evolved, sentient penguin people,” explained the stallion.

Though she’d seen so many strange worlds…what worlds…the sights before her stirred a sort of childish excitement in her, one she readily suppressed before it became visible on her face. She wasn’t some little kid, after all. She was a seasoned traveler.

Spurred on by this wild new world, and not wanting to keep standing in the snow, she started making her way down the slope, only to jerk to a halt as something caught around her foreleg. Or was that an arm? Was she as blurry as the world around her?

“Before we go on,” said the Scottish man. He was a man now, and the handle of his umbrella had hooked her like a shepherd’s crook. “There is one other thing I need to do first.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. They’d just gotten here, and he was already veering away? It was like the thing with the Neme…yet again, the name escaped her, but a vague image of a beautiful silver statue floated in her vision.

“What, like an errand?” she scoffed. “Like you need to head to the shop to buy more custard creams?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he replied, before tapping a finger to his chin. “Though now that you mention it, you did rather devastate the supply with that voracious appetite of yours.”

She was about to fire off a retort when he held up his hoof. It was a hoof again. “In any case, that’s not what I mean. I need to give you something.” He fished around in the pocket of his coat, before coming to some kind of realization, and stuck his hand into her coat pocket. She’d sworn it was empty when she’d put it on, but lo and behold, he pulled something out.

She rolled her eyes. Him and his conjuring tricks.

He opened his fist, revealing a small silver key on a chain. “This is yours.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Is that…?”

“A key to the…?” Another word, an infinite one, lost. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while, but, well,” he gave her a sheepish smile. “Time gets away from me, you know.”

For reasons she couldn’t understand, she found that statement incredibly funny.

“The point is that it’s about time you had one,” continued the stallion, currently a sky blue pegasus. “I would rather you not be locked out of a place of safety, considering the trouble we run into.” His expression turned serious, eyes flaring in intensity. “Remember, if things get too much to handle, you can always find shelter in there.” He gestured back to the blurry space of blue. “Those doors have been attacked by everything from the Mongol horde, to Morok soldiers, to antimatter monsters, and they have never bent.”

A part of her wanted to argue that she could handle herself and this was hardly her first adventure, but it was losing out against the rest of her that just felt overwhelmed by the fact that he was trusting her with…with something so incredibly important. Her eyes stung.She was not going to cry. Like hell was she going to cry.

“What about junk mail satellites?” she joked, shoving back against those softer emotions that threatened to overtake her.

“Alright, yes,” he conceded with a tiny smile. “There have been a few times. But those are very rare cases. For all intents and purposes, those doors are unbreakable. Nothing can get in without a key, and as long as you and I have the only ones, you will always be safe behind them. Always.”

Gingerly, she took the key from him. Holding it up by the chain, she slipped it around her neck, the same way he kept his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “And please, try not to lose it.”

All her gratitude instantly evaporated. “Oi! I’ll have you know I’ve never lost my flat keys even once!” Technically, she still had them back in her room.

He tapped her nose with a finger. “Good to hear. Now come on. The Chionans are hosting a solstice festival and I’ve always wanted to attend…”

The container was starting to give way. The crack was now almost a foot long. Almost two dozen magical threads had been snapped, and Luna continued to carve away. The world around them shifted wildly in response, lit by the red glow of the burning nerves.

That last part worried her, but there was no way around it. The sooner this wretched spell was destroyed, the sooner Sunset could recover. She just prayed the unicorn could hold on a while longer.

Another thread snapped. Ignoring the voices of the haemovores that had once again risen around them, Luna let her magic probe the weakpoint, finding a cluster of five more threads. A spell node of some sort, whose purpose Luna could only guess at.

Luna hit it dead on.

For a brief moment, there was no world, nothing but a black void broken only by a blinding ball of white light, around which those circular patterns floated in the air. Then, after the span of a few breaths, the world reformed into the earthen pit with the mirror.

Her guide turned to her. “Well, that was interesting.”

“I suspect that was its true form,” said Luna, continuing her attack. “The damage it has suffered thus far was sufficient to make it temporarily lose the usual guise of the subconscious.”

“So, it’s nearly broken?”

“Nearly,” Luna said confidently, grunting as she pushed against the stubborn knot. “At a given point, it should be damaged enough to break apart on its own.” The alicorn had sawed one of the threads halfway. “Just a bit more...”

You’re safe, Sunset. You’re safe. I’m right here.

Luna froze, bewildered. “…Sister?”

“Your sister?” asked the stallion in surprise. “Is she here too?”

Luna shook her head. “No. Celestia does not know my Dreamwalking spell. She must be using the Mind Whisper spell instead.”

That’s it, my little sun. You’re perfectly safe with me. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’re safe.

The Trottish stallion gave her a pointed look. “Little sun?”

Luna looked away. “Tia became quite…attached to Sunset after she found her.”

“…I see,” he said stiffly, glancing away from her.

Once again, the world changed. Icy wind cut through her coat, and Luna found herself standing in some sort of mountain pass, looking upon a set of blurry blue doors half-buried in snow.

“Well, that’s new,” commented her guide.

“Remember…if things get too much to handle, you can always find shelter in there.”

“Is that you?” Luna asked.

He scanned the sky. “It would appear to be.”

“For all intents and purposes, those doors are unbreakable. Nothing can get in without a key, and as long as you and I have the only ones, you will always be safe behind them. Always.”

Despite everything, a small smile found its way onto her lips. "Trying to comfort a scared filly?”

Her guide, on the other hoof, merely looked pensive. “…Perhaps.”

Luna was about to ask him what that meant, when the dream voice of his real self broke in again.

“This is the planet Chione, circa twenty-sixth century.”

The blue alicorn’s mouth clamped shut. The word planet echoed in her thoughts. A part of her wanted to deny it, to claim it was just part of a game between father and daughter. But the multitude of strange sights she’d witnessed prodded at her. The creatures in the diner…the dragon…the shapes of the container…the circular symbols…the maze…the fact that she’d had to explain Equestria to him…

It was rare for a being of Luna’s age to be surprised, and yet, she felt as though the ground had fallen out from under her. Slowly, she turned to face her guide.

“You really do have an amazing capacity for self-deception,” he commented, meeting her eyes with his. “Though, considering the environment, I suppose it would be hard to separate reality from fantasy.”

“Planet?” Luna squeaked.

Her guide seemed a tad exasperated. “Yes. Planet.” He gestured to the snowy world around them. “This is another planet, Chione, by the sound of it. Coralee, too, was another planet. Didn’t you notice that it had rings and two suns?”

Numbly, her eyes took in again the landscape, and saw that in the great distance was a city made from blocks of ice. The city that was, in a certain sense, very, very real. Luna felt suddenly lightheaded, and her mouth turned dry as bone in a way that had nothing to do with the chilly air. “Why?”

“Why didn’t I say anything?” He tapped his digits against his umbrella handle. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I gather you’re not familiar with life on other planets?”

“…No.” The idea had been talked about for ages, even before her banishment. And, yes, there were other universes, other versions of their planet. But life beyond Terra, on planets like Ares, Aphrodite, or even Hermes? It seemed preposterous. Or it had.

“What are you?” She glanced back toward the blue doors. “What is she?”

“That, I can’t tell you,” he admitted. “All I can tell is that we traveled from planet to planet.” He gave her a hard look. “Does that matter to you? To your sister? Does it make a difference that we’re not of your planet?” He gestured to the doors. “She’s still dying. Will you stand there and do nothing, just because she’s not one of yours?”

The blue alicorn’s memory flashed to Sunset Shimmer, the once proud and capable unicorn, looking so sickly, and desperate to know where she came from. She remembered the memory image of her sister, nuzzling the little filly like her own. She remembered Sunset’s friends, traveling across dimensions just for her.

No, Luna realized. It did not matter.

Gathering her wits, she turned back to the container. Magic blazed around her horn, and she let out a powerful blast, right on the crack. But to her shock, her attack did nothing. The magical threads absorbed the full force of her blast without a single hint of damage.

“The container is stronger than before,” she grunted.

“I told her the walls were unbreakable,” answered her guide. “You need to change it. Attack around it. That might trigger another shift.”

Luna did as he instructed, turning her blast to the snowy ground beneath the door. Above her, the reddened nerves began to blaze with building heat. Luna simply prayed Sunset could take the pain.

The dream began to fade, ripped apart like the victim of rabid timberwolves, every moment and every image torn away from the bone of her mind. Eaten alive.

Tartarus, it hurt. She tried once again to defend herself, but whatever she’d done before, it still wouldn’t come back to her. Pain spiked on two fronts, from her mind here, and from the place down below.

Desperately, she clung to the pieces of dream still within her grasp, holding them tight to keep them from the ravenous hunger of the monsters. These were hers. She would not let them be taken away. As she did, the whispers from above came back into focus, giving her strength. Safe. Yes, she’d been safe in her dreams. Safe behind the blue walls. Safe…

In a flash of brilliance, the answer came to her. With all the willpower her sleeping mind could muster, Sunset took the glittering ice crystals of her broken dream, and fused them together with the same skill she once used to weave the most intricate of spells, crafting them into a shield, and also more than a shield. Both shield and weapon in one.

The pain crescendoed, and the monsters lashed out once again to rob her of the last of her sweet memories, only to find the collective shards thrust at them in equal measure. The monsters may have taken their prize, but they took something else with them in the bargain.

So far, the plan had worked. The attack had caused the world to shift rapidly, cycling through places she’d seen before, and even a few new ones, but Luna didn’t pay those any attention. Already, she’d snapped another thread.

“Just a bit more,” her guide was muttering. “I know it hurts, but please, you have to hold out.”

The container was within inches of shattering. The crack that spread across the surface of the office door stretched almost from top to bottom. Weariness from her relentless effort pulled on her, and Luna took a breath, needing but a moment’s rest.

It was, in hindsight, one of the most ill-timed decisions in Luna’s entire life, because it was during that lapse that a beam of light shot down from the sky. It was gleaming and blue, almost like her own magic, sailing toward the crack with all the speed and force of an arrow. The minute it struck its target, there was a blinding flash.

Spots flitted across Luna’s vision as she got to her hooves. “What new sorcery is this?” she groaned.

A cry of anguish forced her eyelids open. Beside the princess, her guide was staring at the container in a mixture of horror and despair. Luna turned her still blurry gaze in the direction of the container, and felt her stomach drop out from under her.

Their surroundings had transformed once again, returning to the underground chamber filled with rune tablets. But where there should have been the ancient, malevolent flask, there was now the same set of blue doors, glimmering with ethereal light.

For a few seconds, she stood there in shock, wondering why the container’s shape would be incongruous to the surrounding environment. Then, a bolt of horror broke her shock, followed by a rush of adrenaline at the terrible conclusion that formed the emotion’s base.

All at once, Luna gathered her magic into a burning blue corona, throwing it against the doors, a force of energy to rival any bolt of lightning the city of Cloudsdale ever produced. It was the sort of blast that would have severely wounded even the mightiest of beasts that stalked the night.

But against those heavily cracked doors, her attack did nothing.

“NO!” Luna cried. She fired again and again, but her blows might as well have been fly bites against dragonhide. “This cannot be!”

But it was. Luna slumped to the hard floor, her throat thick enough that it threatened to suffocate her as she realized the terrible truth. Sunset’s memories had mixed. Perhaps as a defense against the pain, her sleeping mind had taken shelter behind sweet memory, working her very will upon the container so that it took on the indestructible nature of those doors. And Luna knew with a kind of intuitive certainty that, even if the environment were to change, the container’s shape and strength would remain.

Beside Luna, her guide seemed to have reached the same conclusion. “They’ve become unbreakable,” he whispered. “She’s going to die.”

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end of her mission. How could Luna go back to the waking world with only proclamations of death? There had to be something they could do…something…

Luna shot to her hooves. “The key!”

Her guide tilted his head. “What key?”

“In the memory, you said the doors could only be opened by the two of you because only you had the key!” Luna’s eyes fixed on him. “You can open the door.”

“But I don’t have the…” He stopped, realizing that there was now a small silver key on a chain hanging from his foreleg. “I suppose I do have it.” He held it up in front of his face, studying it, before turning to the doors.

His blue-gray eyes burned with determination. “Time to end this.”

She was in pieces.

She’d been that way for a long time, longer than she knew. Not that she knew much. It was part of being broken, floating in bits and pieces of herself, moments in space and time that couldn’t quite stay together. But there was more than that, too. There were parts of her outside of here.

One of those parts was right outside, someone drawn out from the fragments strewn around her. And there was something with it that wasn’t her, too.

“Sunset Shimmer,” spoke the thing that wasn’t her. “Your father is here. He has the key. He’s going to let you out.”

Her…father…?

“Why would you want to know anything? He’s gone. That’s all that matters. Now leave me alone.”

“I’m sure you and your daughter will find the accommodations to your liking, Mr. Smith. Farringham School treats our faculty very well.”

One of the outside things was getting close, the one made from her. Shards of memory shifted around her like iron sand around a magnet, bringing up reflections of the one outside.

Listening to jazz outside a pub. Tapping her nose. Watching movies in the theater because he’d been horrified at the films she hadn’t seen. Tending to her knee after she’d injured it at Graystairs. Reading aloud to her in the library afterwards while she lay on a sofa, even though she didn’t need him to read to her. Doing all sorts of voices and making her laugh, driving away the difficulties of the past adventure.

Her friend. More than her friend.

“Sunset?” She could hear him, just beyond the walls. He was closer now. “I’m opening the door.”

Open the door. He was going to open the door, set her free. He was coming to get her. He…he…

“If you ask me, Bozorix is a lost cause. Not that it was much of a cause to start. The Federation were fools to let that filthy backwater in.”

Dark house. Thunderstorm. A single life destroyed, and millions of others being dragged down with it. Bozorix. Luziruta. Tanope. Fighting, so much fighting.

“The Archive of Thoth…It’s any researcher’s dream.”

Lost tomb. Guarded by traps. Murals lit by moonlight. Thoth. Ma’at. Seshat. Broken family. Broken child. Broken mind. Serpents in the dark with skin as pale as bone. Chase through time. Playing games.

“Catch me, catch me, now you have to catch me!”

A woman in a black and white mask with eyes of dusky gray that didn’t belong. Thief. Parasite. Intruder.

“You’ve been such a lucky girl so far. But now your luck’s run out.”

Black and white mask. Black and white. Madness and murder and destruction, carved across both star systems and centuries. Eyes burning into her soul. Eyes…eyes…more than eyes. What was happening?

“Oh, honey, who did this to you?”

The memories whirled violently. Deep, dark shards she’d rarely ever touched stabbed at her, showering her in their slicing truth. The truth of days she wished hadn’t existed.

“You’re not going to try and stop me…are you?”

Not her friend! Not her friend!

Her guide had been mere inches from the door, the key held before him like a sword, when the whole structure, for lack of a better word, exploded. A wave of concussive force roared out from the container, and the next thing Luna knew, both she and her guide were hurled into the air.

Pain jolted through her right wing as she collided with solid stone. Opening her eyes, Luna saw a room that looked to her like some place of worship, with the high ceiling and long wooden benches. But those musings were thrown to the side in the face of the horrible hiss that rang in her ears. It was the kind of hiss that meant only one thing: Attack.

With a rush of adrenaline, Luna leapt up, barely dodging the large hoof that scraped against the stone floor right where her head had been. With reflexes practiced by years of battling monsters in the night, Luna fired a blast of magic against her attacker, causing the creature to stagger backwards with a wail of fury.

The fluid of life…the pure fluid of life…

The voices she now knew as belonging to the haemovores sung even louder than before, and as she gazed around the room, she found herself greeted by a vision from a nightmare. All around her were ponies, or humans—as with everything else, their bodies shifted wildly, and knowing what she did now, she had to wonder which one was real—and varying in other ways far more horrible to witness.

Those that were equine were deathly pale with lips of dark crimson, their hooves long and sharpened to a sword’s edge. Others were some kind of hideous, overfed leech, a giant of wrinkled skin with a sucker mouth and eyes so swollen they were practically fused shut. And still others…others were something in between, creatures with patches of equine broken up with spots where the coat had given way to slimy skin.

“Why?” came a hollow whisper beside her, and Luna darted her head to the side, just for a moment, to see her guide sitting beside her. He looked to be in shock, staring off into space rather than noticing the horde of monsters before them.

But Luna didn’t have time to deal with him. The haemovores had taken that moment of distraction to lunge. A sharpened claw dug into her side, skin slicing open. Luna cried out, using adrenaline to bolster her counterattack as she forced the creature to ram into a wall.

With a scream, she summoned a storm cloud, sending bolts of magical lightning to drive the haemovores back. Luna glanced at her wound. It was, thankfully, superficial. She was not keen to find out what kind of strain bleeding out in a dream would have on her waking body.

Another haemovore, this one a humanoid mare, advanced on her, eyes full of crazed hunger, licking a fat tongue against her disgusting red mouth.

“They’re a type of vampire.”

Luna shuddered.

The night princess put up a shield around herself and her guide as the creatures advanced again. They slammed against it, clawing to get at her dream blood. Perhaps it was their strength, or Luna’s own weariness from her long struggles, but her shield wasn’t holding nearly as well as it should.

She looked behind her, finding a doorway that must lead back to the container, only for it to be cut off by the gathering monsters. She summoned another attack, splitting her energy between it and the shield. Bolts of magic leapt out, burning two of the creatures to ash. But for every one of them gone, Luna could see more forming from the dust of dreams.

“Guide!” she called out. “You know these things. How do I stop them?”

Her guide didn’t seem to hear her. “What did I do…?”

“Please!” Luna cried, feeling the claws of the haemovores dig deeper into her shield, inching their way through. She gave him a light kick with her hind leg. “You must tell me!”

For a moment, he seemed to rouse from his stupor, gazing around at the ring of monsters blearily. “Faith,” he whispered. “Use faith. It…interferes with their telepathic communication.”

“Faith?” she questioned, but her guide had slipped back into his stupor.

Turning back to the monsters, Luna began to concentrate. Faith…faith…slowly, the emotion rose from deep inside her. She had faith in the power of harmony, in the light of the Elements. She had faith in her sister, reforged after a millennium of silence and hate. She had faith in Twilight Sparkle and her friends, the six mares that pulled her back from the mad abyss.

The claws that had been digging through her shield pulled away, and the creatures roared in pain, flailing this way and that. Luna took the feeling burning bright in her chest and wove it into her shield. The crowd of haemovores parted before her, opening a path back to the lower levels and the container.

Taking her chance, Luna grabbed her guide and galloped at full speed, diving straight into the darkness. Her wings spread out, cushioning her fall. Above her, the screams of the monsters fell away until only their chanting was left.

Sweat pouring from her coat, Luna let down her shield. The darkness of the chamber felt almost comforting in its coolness. “We are safe,” she said, turning to her companion. “What happened?”

The stallion sat there, staring ahead toward the blue doors. “She…rejected me,” he whispered. His face twisted in grief. “What did I do to make her feel like that?” The bottoms of his hind legs began to dissolve, breaking down into dust and drawn back to the crack in the door.

“You cannot leave!” said Luna, panicked. “I need a way to open the doors!”

His blue-gray eyes looked at her with utter desolation. “There’s nothing you can do,” he replied, his voice hollow. “She’s going to die.” He turned back to the doors, which by now had reabsorbed him up to the waist. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t think the real me is very trustworthy,” he said, losing his grip on the umbrella as it, too, disappeared. He smiled ruefully. “Perhaps it’s best that I lost her…”

This could not be happening. Sunset could not die. “There has to be a way to save her!” she insisted.

“If there is,” he replied, “I don’t know what it could be.” He was barely a head now, and he looked at her so earnestly. “Don’t tell her about me,” he begged. “I don’t want her to die with a broken heart.” Then, he was gone, reduced to dust.

Left alone and exhausted at the bottom of Sunset Shimmer’s mind, Luna dropped to her belly, weeping at her failure.

Author's Note

The name "Whinny Shakespony" was taken, with permission, from The Incognito Brony.