Fury of the Storm

I wake to the worst, throbbing headache I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t so much as focus on anything but my own pain, and even the dim light of the room is far too much for my eyes.

“M-Mr. Zobachi? Sir? C-can you hear me?”

I reflexively cringe at the voice, it’s volume far louder than it actually was. So overwhelming was the sound, in fact, that I didn’t realize it was Zelac speaking at first. But slowly, little by little, my sensitivity to noise and light begins to subside in step with the subsiding of my pounding headache. Far too slow for my liking.

“Sir, please answer me...”

Ugh. It’s still so damned loud. My attempt at speech comes out as a slurred mumble, accompanied by a wince as fresh, sharp pain stabs through my forehead. My forelegs try to move reflexively to assuage it, but their movements are slow and heavy, ending with my hooves brushing clumsily against my neck.

I’m not in full control of my own body. Not yet. It’s returning, but it’s a slow process, governed once again by the intensity of this damned headache. What did that alien do to me?

Foreign hooves press against my face. One of my eyes is opened, the sudden influx of light drawing forth another wince. The image is hard to see, unfocused as it is, but the blurry sight strongly resembles my roommate.

“Pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay...” he murmurs.

My response comes out as a groan. But at least my own hoof makes it up to my head this time, even as slow and unresponsive as it is. Right up until he swats it away. He moves on to checking my other eye, and the now-adjusted other eye stays open, it’s ability to focus slowly returning.

“Mr. Zobachi? Please, c-can you hear— Oh!” His ears flatten and he recoils slightly, “Ohmygosh...”

He rushes away to retrieve something. I can’t tell what. One of the last senses I expected to be prominent comes into play: my sense of taste. More specifically, I can taste blood. With my hooves now under a small semblance of control, I succeed in touching my mouth, followed by my snout. To my surprise, my hoof comes back bloodied.

“What in the...?” My words are slow, strained, and somewhat slurred. I begin coughing moments later, just in time for Zelac to return with cloths and a water basin on his back. He hurries to set them down and put them to work, dabbing wet, warm cloths onto my nose.

“Oh Lord, what happened to you?” he murmurs.

“Don’t know,” I manage to lie.

He gasps. “S-sir! You’re, uh, w-well, maybe not okay, b-but—”

“What happened?”

The question was sincere, even if he couldn’t understand it’s deeper meaning. That nightmare was unlike any other, especially at the end. Though it’s hard to process it fully due to my ever-present headache, I distinctly remember how the alien’s power tore through that yellow and white void. I certainly remember the pain of it, if nothing else.

It couldn’t have... harmed me in the waking world, could it? That sounds absolutely impossible. And yet, nothing else would explain the headache or the blood.

And “impossible” has become an increasingly flexible term since coming to this accursed land.

“You, er, w-well,” He wraps one of the cloths around my snout, blocking my nose. “I-I don’t really know, sir. Y-you woke me up, thrashing and panting and whimpering. Then you froze up, tried to scream, even though you didn’t have the breath for it. A-and, well, n-now we’re here.”

“I see,” I grunt, becoming ever better at speaking again. I suppose it’s a small mercy that I didn’t succeed in screaming in reality. Otherwise, the guards would have been here first.

The guards. The Princes.

They would have suffered just like this.

No headache can halt the fresh pulse of fear I feel. If I was reduced to this state, they would have been, too. If they find me like this, they can tie me to the dream. They’ll find out what I am.

Try as I might, I can’t pull myself upright yet: my body refuses to comply. All I get for my efforts is a fresh spike of pain through my head and a matching hiss from between my teeth.

“Nuh-uh, no!” Zelac looks down at me sternly. “You aren’t going anywhere, mister! Not until you’ve gotten some rest!”

That tone of his is reserved for coltfriends. Funny, I don’t recall ever making him mine, let alone intending anything of the sort. But as I am, I am sadly in no state to rebuke him, despite how easy it would otherwise be. So here I sit, looked after by this alchemist. His movements are careful and free of any trembling as he looks me over for injuries and asks me questions about symptoms. That suggests medical experience, beyond that of alchemy. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised: only the Empire had the luxury of specialized alchemists and doctors.

The minutes of this that pass by is more than enough time for my body to return to most of it’s full functionality and control. He cleans my bloody nose, keeping it tipped forward. He presses a cold cloth to my head for the headache, though it’s of limited effectiveness; it remains persistent, and despite it’s reduced intensity, it still make clear thinking somewhat challenging.

“So.” Zelac gets into my face, tone and expression indignant as he jabs my barrel. “Are you going to tell me about what just happened?”

Not on his life. But all this time gave me plenty of opportunity to construct a few lies to feed him. It was just a matter of creating my window to offer them.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going to try to fix whatever is wrong. Like every other alchemist and doctor I’ve gone to for this.”

“E-every other?” Good, there’s the response. Now to insert the story.

“This lasts for weeks,” I lie. “Horrible, exhausting nightmares. Then nighttime seizures. I don’t know why it happens. I don’t even know the pattern: I’ll have years where I’m fine, but other times this will happen on a monthly basis.”

“I thought it had to do with those nightmares.” Excellent, he’s connecting the false dots. “And just how many zebras have you gone to about this?”

“I lost track after the first dozen. Though I’ll never forget the two Mystics I met.”

“M-Mystics...?!” he gasps.

“Two different ones. One when I was a colt. The other a few years ago. I don’t know what odd rituals they did to try and help me. But you can see all the good it did.”

Hah. As if I’d let a Mystic anywhere near me. Their annoying way of rhyming everything they say would have been reason enough. But those zebras are strange, even to a stallion like me, and they’re dangerous to match. By all accounts, even the Princes were wary of them. That was far in excess of enough reason for me to keep several kilometres of distance from them. If they can give even them pause, then who knows what rituals or concoctions they’re capable of?

“Duh-d-do you really not even know what your problem is?”

“I do not.”

“W-well, er, I mean, h-have you tried asking one of the guards—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Zelac.” His ears folded at my harsh words. “There is nothing those muscle-heads can do for me, short of shipping me away to one of the universities.”

“A-and, er, what’s so, well, wrong about that?”

“Imperial law is what’s wrong with that.” This part was actually true. “If you’re a criminal with a noteworthy illness, which I am, you can be sent to a university cell rather than prison. From there, you become the subject of study.” And now to spin the truth a bit. “Do you understand what that means for me, Zelac? A life sentence of poking, prodding, and experiments, with no hope of escape or recourse. Even if they find a cure, they’ll never give it to me; they’ll keep me as their little lab rat until the day I die. And I’d rather die first.”

The best lies are mixed with some truth, and this was no exception. Zelac’s horrified reaction was proof of that.

“N-no way,” he mutters. “No way. That’s not true, they wouldn’t do something so cruel!”

Narrowing my eyes, I lean forward and lower my tone to the point of near-threatening. “Did you really think the Empire had no analogue to the Zhaaneph’s doctors?”

Ah, there’s the appropriate horror and disgust I was expecting to see. Truthfully, the doctors—butchers, really—were far worse than the state scientists of the Empire; it wasn’t even a contest. That tends to happen when the latter has actual oversight and ethical codes to follow—even if they’re ultimately dictated and overruled by the Elders and Princes—as opposed to a holy blessing from the Zhaaneph-Sa to pursue their goals by any—any—means necessary. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“So the only thing I can do,” I finish, “Is address symptoms as they occur. Of course, it’s just my luck that this all strikes again now of all times.”

He swallows dry. I can tell by the look in his eyes that I’ve mostly convinced him. But there’s something else in his gaze, as well. Something small, something I can’t quite identify. A moment passes, and I can tell right away that he found some hole in my story by the small eye-widening of realization, followed by the convinced look falling away, replaced by doubt and a hint of hurt. But in the very next moment, all of that vanishes and he goes back to convinced. Only this time, the look is... off.

“I-I see, sir.” He rubs the back of his head. “I-I’m sorry. I just, well, uh, I hate seeing you in pain. Like, ah, a-at all.”

No, hold on. Now that I’m paying attention, I can see the subtle facial cues that give away how his conviction is false. Very subtle cues. It’s otherwise an exceptionally good front, one that no normal zebra would give even a second thought to. And his tone of voice never once shifted to indicate that he was lying, truly completing the deception.

He’s a good liar, too.

But his care and affection for me never once struck me as false or forced, even in this moment of observation; he really does seem to be taken by me. Which begs the question. He knows I just lied to him, but is pretending otherwise. So who is he trying to convince? Me? Or himself?

“M-mister Zobachi? Uhh,” Some colour wells up in his cheeks. “A-any reason you’re staring at me like that?”

“Ah.” I blink. “Forgive me. It’s rare that somezebra actually believes me, where my condition is concerned.”

“I just wish I could have stocked up on all that darkdream like you wanted, sir.”

Shit. The darkdream tonic: that was the hole in my story. Curse this damned headache, I should have thought of that! He doesn’t react to the brief alarm I know just flashed through my eyes, despite my best efforts to mask it. Either he’s far better at deception than I am, or he can’t read zebras nearly as well as I can. At this stage, I had no way to tell. For now, I’d best operate under the former until I can determine otherwise.

“Yes.” I’m very careful to keep my tone under control, to not give away that I knew anything. “But as I said, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” he sighs sadly. “But I still feel bad about it.”

He buried that false conviction under his genuine sadness quickly. And very well, at that; there was no trace of his deception left at all. I don’t know exactly what this zebra’s game is, but now I had an additional variable to track—one with severe potential consequences—on top of everything else. That alone would be grounds for a headache. Too bad I’m already covered in that regard.

Which reminds me. With my body mostly back under control, I begin slowly rising to my hooves again, which immediately made Zelac anxious.

“H-hey, no! You still need to rest!”

“What I need is to be cleaned up. The last thing I need is a guard finding me like this and asking questions.” Let alone the Princes discovering my secret.

“I said, you still need to rest!” He remains cute while trying to be stern, even if recent revelations have damaged the effect.

“I can rest later. Right now, I want to see what’s happening outside.”

“Sir, please!”

“You aren’t going to win this, Zelac.” I flash him a small, self-assured smirk. “You should know by now that my endurance far exceeds yours.”

That simple, suggestive declaration left his mouth hanging open as he struggled to think of a response through the sudden introduction of fluster, his cheeks rosy to show for it. Strange: all of his expressions and emotions were genuine.

“Oh, fine!” he huffs, crossing his forelegs. “Be that way! B-but, well...” He gives me a pleading look as he taps his hooves together and chews his lip a bit. “A-any chance I can help you with that? C-cleaning up, I-I mean.”

“That, doctor,” I chuckle, once again pressing my snout to his. “I’d be happy to get help with.”

If he could tell the chuckle wasn’t entirely genuine, he didn’t show it. But his happy squeal certainly was the real deal.

“Is this all of the damage?” Luna asked of the nearby guardstallion as she looked over the noticeable crack along the leg of Anonymous’s statue.

“I-it is, your highness,” the guard stammers. “B-but the, the statue, it, well, h-how do I—”

“I am not interested in having the blow softened, guard. Speak plainly.”

The normally stoic unicorn is too shaken up by the entire situation to respond beyond just stammering and sweating, leaving a nearby pegasus to explain the situation instead, though with a definite edge of fear to her voice.

“The unicorns had to drop their shield spells, your highness. Every time they put them up, the crack started getting bigger.”

That was not what she wanted to hear at all. Keeping her serious expression and tonality intact, she continued pressing for answers.

“How much?”

“Only a little bit, princess: nowhere near as fast as it started. But there it is.”

“I see. And to those of you on shielding duty,” she called to the unicorns on duty, “Have you experienced any horn pain or draining sensations during the attempt?”

The unicorns on duty answered in the affirmative, confirming her worst suspicions. This crack had breached the statue’s magical insulation, and allowed him the ability to drain magic once again, even if to a much weaker extent. They no longer had the luxury of time to address the statue: they had to transport him now, before this could get any worse.

“Maintain your watch and double your numbers,” she orders. “Under no circumstances is any magic permitted within a ten-yard radius of the statue.”

With that, she moved to the safe distance she had just prescribed before lighting her horn with a teleportation spell, vanishing in a flash and appearing in Celestia’s bedchambers again. Her sister was, as before, writing letters in a frenzy and sending them nearly once every three seconds.

“How bad is it?” she asked without looking over, visibly upset by these events.

“Very.” That response alone caused Celestia’s ears to fold back, but didn’t stop Luna from elaborating further. “He’s able to absorb magic through the breach. For the moment it is not much, but the more he takes, the greater the breach becomes.”

“How did this happen?!” she finally snaps, her utensils and parchment dropping abruptly as she grabs hold of Luna by the withers. “You said he didn’t have any dreams!”

“He didn’t,” Luna confirms, remaining composed. “I’ve affirmed as such every night, including this one. The only new variable is our guests, whose dreams I could detect.”

Celestia takes a moment to breathe and attempt to relax. “So what did they do?”

“I intend to find out. Everypony else has gathered in the dignitary’s quarters already. They only wait for us to arrive. I will discover the truth of this matter then.”

Celestia took a few more moments to practice a calming breathing exercise: the same one she taught Twilight, in fact.

“Are you ready?” Luna asks, a note of concern in her otherwise deadly serious tone.

“I don’t think I can be ready,” Celestia admits, “But I can hold it together.”

“That will do.”

That was all the cue the sisters needed to cast another teleportation spell, taking the two to the Princes’ bedchambers. All the Elements and Princesses were assembled and speaking to each other or the Princes in some capacity, but Queen Novo’s expression and countenance was an easy match for Luna’s in terms of how promptly and seriously she was treating this event.

“I sent word to our two airships already,” Novo immediately opened to the sisters. “The first is already waiting at the Storm Island base to escort the captain’s ship. The other is still at Mt. Aris, but it’ll be flying straight to the base at full burn in a matter of minutes. It’ll be there on time.”

“Good,” Luna responds, the two sharing a nod before she then addresses the rest of the room. “The situation is bad. The statue has cracked and can no longer repel magic. For now, he can absorb only a trickle through that crack, but doing so widens it ever more. The risk of his release is now very severe, and we must send him away now, without delay, before things can get worse.”

Ignoring the nervous chattering between almost everypony, Luna turns her sights to the two Princes, where Zakurai was still mid-translation for Zabraxas. Each sat on their beds with only gauze on their snouts to show for the damage they had suffered, exhaustion notwithstanding.

“Now, I believe we are owed some answers.” Luna made no effort to couch her demand in a question.

“A confession, first,” Zakurai began, his voice still somewhat strained. “This was the second time we encountered your Anonymous in our dreams.”

“I beg your pardon?” Luna spat in disbelief while the other ponies exclaimed in shock. “When, precisely, were you planning on relaying that information?”

Zakurai began by taking a breath, and then stepped off of his bed to approach Luna. His approach was halted, however, by Zabraxas calling out to him.

(“You know you are not to tell any of the Radiant Dream,”) Zabraxas stated, the undertone of a threat in his words.

(“In case it escaped your notice, she’s already seen the Radiant Dream!”) he snapped back, uncharacteristically angry.

(“You know what the Elders will do if you speak of it.”)

(“And I know what he will do if he manages to escape,”) he fires back. (“Intentional or not, the Dream may well have caused this. They deserve to know about that cause.”)

(“You will regret doing this.”)

(“I already regret not doing it far more.”)

(“If the two of thee art finished quibbling,”) Luna interjected, (“We expect thine answer immediately.”)

Zakurai reeled, taken aback again by her ability to actually speak Zebrikaans, even if it was in such an old dialect. But as quickly as the surprise came, he pushed it away to focus on the matter at hoof, ignoring Zabraxas’s pointed glare all the while.

“Princess Twilight,” he began in Ponish once again, getting said princess’s attention. “I told you about the way we can silently communicate with one another, yes? That was only one means: a lesser-used one, and the only means the Elders permitted me to share.”

“S-so, you mean the main way is through your dreams?” she asks.

“The Radiant Dream,” he confirms. “Through it, we can reach out and commune with others sharing the Gift across kilometres, all while benefiting from sleep. Well, assuming all those in the Dream are friendly with one another.”

“And then they can harm one another,” Luna infers.

“Not like this,” he sighs, looking back over at her. “Princess, I’ve known the Radiant Dream from my very infancy. I’ve trained extensively in it from the moment I spoke my first word. I know the pain that is possible to inflict in it. And what I just felt tonight is... should be utterly impossible.”

“Tonight? This didn’t happen the previous night?”

“No, it didn’t. The encounter was exhausting and painful, yes. But in the way I expected; never to the point of actual wounds. I’ve never even heard of such a thing being possible.”

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet here we are,” he echoes. “Though I had no idea that you, too, were capable of entering our dreams.”

“Not yours. Everypony’s. It is my duty as Princess of the Night to banish the nightmares of my subjects. So you can imagine my own shock when two Princes dropped into my realm unannounced, each with great suns anchored into them.”

“Everypony’s dreams...?” he quietly echoes to himself in disbelief. “I had no idea. But if so, how did you evade that creature’s dreams for so long?”

“I didn’t. Until this night, I was not aware he was even capable of dreaming.”

“You didn’t know? So then...” His brow knits in thought, rises in realization, and then falls in sorrow. “Oh, gods. He must have entered your dream through ours. And once linked, he was able to siphon some of your power through it.”

“That would be the logical conclusion, yes. Though seeing the power he wielded there was... horrifying, to say the very least.”

“It was. Those suns you saw? They are a manifestation of the Gift, and they always reflect the peak of their current potential. That is the destruction you can expect, should he ever obtain his fill of energy.” His eyes become slightly unfocused as he is lost in a disturbing memory. “I’ve only ever seen comparable power in one other zebra. But I’ve never felt power so... warped before. I don’t think I could truly call it foreign, either: alien would be more accurate.”

Abruptly, Luna looked over to her sister. “Was there any reported change in the statue last night, when these two would have dreamt with it?”

Celestia immediately summoned several rolls of parchment, quickly scanning their contents for an answer.

“No, there wasn’t,” she replies.

“Then it seems that this ‘Radiant Dream’, by itself, is not capable of freeing him. If nothing else, that is a small comfort.” She turns back to Zakurai. “Regardless, we should both discontinue such dreaming until he is secured.”

“I wish it were as simple for us as it is for you, your highness,” he responds sadly with a slow shake of his head. “You already know we cannot control how we absorb magical energies. The same is true of the Radiant Dream. We can’t not enter it, and I know of no way to stop it’s onset.”

She frowns deeply before voicing the implication aloud. “Then you are cursed to battle with him for the entire length of your journey.”

A weary, apprehensive sigh leaves him as he sits onto the floor, rubbing his head. “Before this point, I always looked forward to my time in the Dream.” The exhaustion couldn’t have been more apparent on Zakurai’s face at this moment. “Now, for the first time, I sit in active dread of it.”

“Well what the hay are we all standing around for, then?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, flying in the centre of the room. “Let’s go throw that loser in jail, already!”

Agreement sounded out all around, and everypony got to their hooves and started towards Anonymous in a large group.

“Will you be okay?” Twilight murmured to Zakurai, full of concern for the zebra’s well-being.

“We packed supplies under the assumption that every day would end in grievous injuries, Princess,” he replies, his reassuring smile damaged somewhat by the note of pain still on his features. “I will survive, that I can assure you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He sighs, exhausted. “A foe with horrifying power beyond my darkest dreams is going to haunt my nightmares for the next week, likely more. I don’t know how I can be okay, your highness.”

Her ears fold back, and she regrets ever asking the question.

“Wonder if we oughta pack some coffee for ‘em,” Applejack queries aloud.

“‘Coffee’?” the Prince questions, confused.

“Oh yeah,” Dash laughs with a knowing tone. “Definitely packing some coffee.”

“Done,” Celestia declares off-hoofedly, sending a small scroll away and shooting the two Elements a knowing wink, the two responding with a small laugh.

(“There is another matter We wish to discuss with thee,”) Luna began in Zebrikaans, drawing the attention of the two Princes.

Celestia pretended not to understand. Luna and her both brushed up on the language from the old notes and books they still had from their last visit to Zebrica, which Celestia had preserved from their old castle in the Everfree. It was a struggle for her to keep her ear from swivelling towards them, thus giving away her understanding of the language, but she managed.

(“During the dream, We were acutely aware of thine suns’ draw on our power, intentional or not.”)

(“I-I apologize profusely,”) Zakurai replied, seemingly genuine. (“Were I able to control—”)

(“There were three.”)

Zakurai looked up in confusion. Zabraxas looked up in irritation.

(“E-excuse me?”)

(“There were two pulls upon mine power at first: yours and thy cohort’s. During Our questioning, before the arrival of Anonymous, We felt a third pull.”)

(“You did? So, so that’s why you just took off like that?”)

(“Indeed. We found fire damage. Evidence of a third sun.”)

(“There’s another Gifted out here?”) Zakurai replied, shocked.

(“Thou art implying that this new cypher was always here?”)

(“Well, I—”)

(“The only Gifted that have come here are myself and Prince Zakurai,”) Zabraxas cut in, downright offended at the implications Luna was making. (“There are no others.”)

(“Thou art quite sure?”)

(“None can hide in the Radiant Dream. None can escape my vigil.”)

(“Indeed?”) Luna’s brow raised, the mare unconvinced. (“This third cypher certainly escaped well enough, if even We could not find them.”)

(“You argue from ignorance. To hide in the Dream takes a toll. No Gifted has lasted more than a week, hiding themselves in such a manner. All who tried were driven to madness. To suggest that one would have lasted for the full two weeks of our journey so far, let alone while untrained in the Gift, is foolish. You will cease imputing such nonsense immediately.”)

(“We dearly hope, then, that thy are correct, young Zabraxas.”) Luna’s chilling tone brought Zakurai pause, but only hardened Zabraxas’s glare. (“If thy are not, then thine arrogance places us all in intractable peril.”)

Celestia frowned at how confrontational Luna was being, but neither princess was quite prepared for Zabraxas’s prompt rebuke.

(“Do not speak to me of arrogance, princess,”) he spat in a low growl, his glare more judgmental than it was condescending. (“You chose to delay the internment of this ‘Anonymous’ creature, foolishly believing you had the luxury of time. You chose to prioritize banal and trite social graces over the swift resolution of this serious threat. Do not dare deceive yourself into believing for one moment that this outcome was anything less than the product of your own chasmic arrogance.”)

Luna and Zakurai alike were taken aback by his words, their mouths agape. Celestia had enough presence of mind to hide her own shock. Zabraxas, however was not finished.

(“And make no mistake: your decisions are more offensive to me than simply being borne of sloth and complacency. Most offensive to me, princess, is that they are characteristic of the Old World, of the Old Kings.”)

Luna did not react to that comparison well. (“You dare—?!”)

(“Spare me your sanctimony,”) he interrupts. (“Your actions conveyed more than your words ever will.”)

(“That is enough!”) Zakurai bellows, physically inserting himself between the two glaring royals and pushing them apart. (“For the love of the gods, this is neither the time nor the place for this! Our enemy grows stronger the longer we spend bickering with one another!”)

Everypony by this point was staring at the spat the two royals were having, and though they didn’t understand the words spoken, all were thankful for Zakurai’s interruption, understanding his meaning well enough. Celestia in particular found herself liking the young Prince quite a bit, her initial good impressions of the stallion being affirmed more and more.

(“He does,”) Luna finally agrees after a lengthy glare at Zabraxas, righting her posture as she recomposes herself.

Zabraxas says nothing, his expression adopting some annoyance as his only outward reaction. He continues to offer no response as he began to walk forward once again. Zakurai was visibly relieved when Luna also resumed her walk without further comment beyond a small snort. He was quick to pick up the pace, keeping himself between the two to hopefully head off another row before it starts.

Celestia, meanwhile, hadn’t forgotten the subject that started the argument in the first place: the presence of another cypher in the dream realm. If what the Princes said was true, and if a cypher hiding in that shared dream really was impossible for extended periods of time, then it stands to reason that Zabraxas, despite his poor manners, may be right about them being the only two to have come here. That, however, meant there would be a cypher here instead. But who? Where?

She did not have to think for long about who it would be. Or, to be more precise, what it would be: the Staff of Sacanas. With that realization, she drafted another order to have it investigated for any changes or signs of damage to it’s containment, and sent it without delay. She and Luna would investigate it personally once Anonymous was loaded onto the airship, to make sure that nothing would be overlooked.

However, if the Staff wasn’t the culprit? That would mean there must be another cypher with the zebras, which meant that hiding in that shared dream was in fact possible, despite Zabraxas’s insistence to the contrary. There simply could not be an Equestrian cypher in play: if cyphers did indeed all possess this shared ‘Radiant Dream’, then Luna would have been preyed upon in the dream realm by Anonymous long ago. It had to be a zebra.

“Sooo, uhm, Luna?” Twilight sheepishly asked as she trotted up beside her, trying to break some of the lingering tension. “I, uhm, didn’t know you could speak their language.”

“Nor did I,” Zakurai adds, now quite curious about the subject. “Though I’ve never heard a dialect quite like yours, your highness. May I ask how you learned?”

“I learned long ago,” Luna began, “In preparation for our first meeting with one of your ‘Old Kings’ long ago.”

“Wait, you met with one of the Old Kings?!” Zakurai blurted excitedly. He quickly translated for Zabraxas, who then also turned to look at Luna with an impassive eye.

“The meeting went exceptionally poorly.” Luna’s words caused Zakurai’s ears to fold and burn with embarrassment. “King Zeddefen was a poor leader, more concerned with slaking his vices than leading his people. Indeed, my sister had to stay my hoof when he demanded that we join his harem of concubines. We cut all contact with Zebrica after that.”

If Twilight felt awkward for asking, Zakurai felt even worse. He looked even more awkward when he gave a translation upon Zabraxas’s request.

(“Zeddefen II, infamous for his unquenchable lust,”) Zabraxas recited almost automatically, his gaze holding actual sympathy for once. (“His debauchery sired dozens of successors that fought several bloody wars for the chance to claim the throne for themselves, and many of his more debased practices lived on until the end of the Old Line. Your decision to cut ties with our people for that is understandable, princess.”)

Zakurai opted not to translate, instead summarizing the Old King as, indeed, being a terrible zebra. Luna simply nodded her acknowledgement.

(“Be thankful you had not met his successor, Zidiim I, instead. He employed horrifying alchemy to shackle the minds of his—”)

Zabraxas’s words cut off with a choked gasp all of a sudden, the stallion stumbling to a stop in a cold sweat. Zakurai did much the same thing, the hairs of their coats standing solidly on end and their expressions shocked and unnerved.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight exclaimed.

“Gods above,” Zakurai whispered to himself before looking up and speaking with a slight tremor. “It’s him.”

“Anonymous? You can feel him?”

“Acutely. Y-your statue must have sealed most of his presence, too. Small wonder you couldn’t tell he was dreaming.”

(“We must deal with this creature,”) Zabraxas barks, uncharacteristically nervous now. (“We must deal with him now!”)

Everypony understood his meaning, if not his words. It was all the spurring they needed to pick up their pace.

God fucking damn it. You were this close—this close—to breaching containment! Just a few more seconds of putting the succ on, and your stint as the Sharmat would have culminated in you coming to ponykind again through fire and war! And those two just had to cockblock your ass, didn’t they? Yeah, they’re getting the special torments later on. They want the Sharmat experience? They’ll fucking get the Sharmat experience. And you will not be giving them the courtesy of the first blow.

Guess you’re back to feeling out another exit strat. But it wasn’t all bad news: your failed attempt at a jailbreak had, at the very least, yielded one very significant side benefit that you hadn’t anticipated at all.

The return of your conscious thoughts. And not just your thoughts, but the whole goddamn run of your fully armed and operational faculties! That’s right, bay-beeee, the A-non was no longer confined to just the dream realm!

Kinda.

You haven’t been conscious for that long, but your ongoing... circumstances have made the experience really, really fucking weird, even by your standards. Forget still being immobile, all of your flesh-and-blood sensation along with all five of your senses were straight-up not present, leaving you in a state of total sensory deprivation. Which would have driven you insane, if not for the weird part: you were still dreaming. And awake. Simultaneously.

As evidenced by ol’ Sunny ripping and fucking tearing the random beach you’re relaxing on as it boils the ocean with extreme prejudice.

Except your perception was evenly divided between experiencing a burning dreamscape and experiencing locked-in syndrome in a black void. Yeah, weird.

But then, after God only knows how long of experiencing absolute mu, you actually begin to feel something in consciousness-land. But not your other senses; this was something different. Something new, or... No, wait. This isn’t new. This is familiar! A whole new twist on an all-too-familiar sensation!

It’s your cypher powers! They’re pickin’ up something, acting like a straight-up sixth sense instead of the straightforward power set you’re all too familiar with. And in the happiest of coincidences, having all of your regular senses blacked right out just so happened to put you into the best possible state of ‘blinding one sense to enhance the others’. The new, unfamiliar input feels exceptionally weird and especially indescribable, but as your brain struggles to make sense of this new data, it begins using your other senses to try and map some meaning to it.

The first sense was touch: you could feel your skin—or rather, where your skin should be—tingling, and there was a feeling of temperature to go with it: a hot-and-cold kind of situation. Then came your sight: it began as distortions in the void that stuck out like a sore thumb, but slowly flickered to life as teensy little blurry embers in the far-off distance, each of as-yet undetermined colours.

Ol’ Sunny begins flaring up in response to the sensations, ready to drop several metric tons of whoop-ass on the new presences. Only, the presences were in the conscious world: nothing was there in the dream, and yet it reacted as if they were present.

Things start getting more detailed as your brain gets accustomed to processing this shiny new sixth sense. The embers begin to separate, take shape, and come into focus, while the tingle and temperature on your phantom skin begins to focus into smaller, radiating points: some hot, some cold. More details begin to become visible, not the least of which was the colours.

Said colours were immediately familiar, and just like that, your understanding clicked into place. Golden yellow, deep blue, teal, and bright purple? Come the fuck on, there’s no universe where that isn’t the magic of the princesses! The tingling refines even further to what you can only describe as a Spidey-Sense, all while the temperature of each individual tingle directly corresponds to the magical power you knew each alicorn was capable of wielding: Twilight and Celestia’s were really hot, Luna was decently hot, and Cadance was only warm.

Dude, this is so cool! You mean, you knew you wouldn’t get a grasp of all your cypher abilities with only a few months of training, but if you’re seriously going to develop magic Spidey-Senses next, you’re so down for it! Yep, it’s decided: once you’re out and back with the boys, you’re makin’ sensory deprivation chambers to train this up further. That’s just going to happen now. Because fuck yes!

But the alicorns weren’t the only sensations present in your sixth sense. There were two extra sensations present, very different from the others. In contrast to the tingling warmth of the alicorns’ magic, these sensations were pinching and cold. And they weren’t little floating embers—nope, make that mini stars now—like the princesses, either. These were outlines of equines, made out of pure trippy colour-fringing. Inside the outlines were the floating veins and arteries an equine would probably have, looking like something out of a Tool music video. Only, Tool videos have them all hooked up to Chakras or some shit, not to straight-up black holes where their hearts should be. Where it got super interesting—and super revealing—was both the colour and the effect of that power: one was red and fiery, with a decently cold sensation, while the other was icy blue raw power, feeling much colder than the other.

Oh, yeah. Those are your Princes, all right. Sans the mysterious yellow-flavoured guy. Still don’t know what his deal is.

Well regardless, all present varieties of floating raw power were congregated into a big group, and they were slowly making their way on over towards lil’ ol’ you. No need to guess what they’re up to: the pair of them were obviously here for you. Though whether they meant to destroy you or just ship your ass off to jail is another— aaaaaahh, is that their game? Did the pretty princesses call up the zeebs because they have a special cypher-grade jail cell they could use to deal with you for good? How interesting.

Though they probably weren’t counting on you being the mean, green, ass-kicking machine you were, even in slumberland.

Another sensation ripples across where your skin should be: the familiar spiritual fondling of your powers, as experienced from the Staff. The two Princes can be seen stumbling and coming to a stop, their body language all distressed. No doubt about it: they can feel you, now.

More importantly, you can feel them.

Huge bolts of power split through the ocean where those two would ordinarily be, creating fuckhuge columns of steam and huge splashes of superheated seawater. If they were actually there, their asses would be cinders right now.

Distressed by your mere presence—a completely understandable reaction from your enemies—the two urge the others to pick up their pace, until the group finally comes right up towards you. At this close distance, whoo boy, the power is intense! So intense, in fact, that you can feel a tiny trickle of power coming in just from pure osmosis! Seriously, those princesses are crazy sources of magic power: enough to make you wonder just how the Staff was able to sink that much juice in the first place! Sacanas really built it different, huh? As for the Princes, their glowing inner workings were super clear now, and the spiritual feeling became more lively the closer they got. Or, to be more specific, you were making it more intense on purpose, just to fuck with them. Evidently, it was working.

The pair just stands there for a bit, staring at you. The blue-flavoured guy, Mr. Stoic, looks to be losing his nerve. Red, on the other hand, is standing firm, more or less living up to his ‘hero’ schtick. But after a little bit of admiring the art, they do eventually signal to the princesses. And then you start moving relative to everyone else. You’re officially in transit!

Yep, definitely going to cypher jail. In Zebrica. If you remember the reports right, Zebrica’s tech level is pretty low, and definitely doesn’t include airships. So they must’ve touched base with Equestria and called for an aerial cab, especially for a guy as drop-dead dangerous as you. Well, Cid should be keeping tabs on your statue from a far distance: he’ll likely try to launch a big attack on your airship as it crosses the ocean. But the Princes being in play posed a very serious problem for that strat. And you don’t even know what the ponies will bring along to keep watch over you, either. He’d best be keeping tabs on events here and start factoring it all in. If he doesn’t, his jailbreak’s gonna go pear-shaped real fast. And losing some of the boys would be a damn shame.

Ooh, hold those thoughts. There’s the yellow guy, up above in the distance! And wouldn’t you know it, you’re headed straight for his position. He must be aboard the airship meant for you. He’s got to be keeping his cypher powers on the down-low. Why else would he have hidden back in dreamland?

Hmm...

Y’know, that gives you an idea.

“Seems we’re leaving already,” I note, looking down from the ship’s railing at all of the movement below.

“W-wow, they’re, uh, really in a hurry,” Zelac notes beside me, appropriately nervous about the situation. “What do you think happened?”

“Either a Prince was just poisoned to death,”—I wish—”Or whatever they’ve come here to do was just bumped to the top of their agenda.”

“Yuh-y-you mean th-that ‘g-great evil’ they were talking about?”

“Hard to imagine it could be anything else.”

And I had more reason than most to be afraid of that.

An honourguard messenger came barrelling towards the sky ship, just barely illuminated by the dim, stubborn light of dawn on the horizon, refusing to rise any further. Behind him were several pony guards and workers, the latter hauling wagonfuls of crates and supplies. With the environment as quiet as it was without all of the pony citizens gathered, I was able to hear what they were saying: the Princes were arriving with an... ‘anonymous’? I’m confused: why is he using ‘anonymous’ as a noun, rather than an adverb? That doesn’t make sense. Regardless, they were coming with something anonymous, and they had orders to let the ponies assist with their preparations, and for them to assist them in theirs. With that, all races below sprang into action, loading the cargo lift while the winged pony guards took flight, landing on the sky ship and getting a head start over their land-bound compatriots.

Among those winged guards were a very... different type of pony, one I did not see in the crowds from yesterday. For lack of a better description, they had the features of bats: bat-like wings, ears, eyes, and even a small pair of fangs. Their coats and equipment were much darker and more subdued to match. Of the two types of winged ponies, they were far more alert and active compared to the more normal, feather-winged ones, who looked as if they were awakened only a few minutes before. Were these... bat ponies a lesser-known subspecies? Were they secretive? Shunned, perhaps?

Blinking, I tear away from the new race of pony and refocus on events below; I could wonder about them at a later time. For the moment, we were not in their way, so they were content to ignore us in turn. Below, I saw weapons, foods, supplies, and other materials loaded on board as fast as the cargo lift could take it, with many of the avian pirates lending a claw with their superior grasping abilities to complement the manipulation sorcery of the horned ponies. Once things were loaded, the rest of the guards came aboard next, the workers retreating to the castle-palace with their empty wagons.

Once everyspecies was aboard, things turned into a mad rush to ensure things were secured. However, with the zebras and ponies unable to speak each other’s language, they had to rely on nonverbal cues and rudimentary gestures to maintain communication across the species divide, which was of limited effectiveness and slowed things further. In spite of that, they continued to work relatively fast, and I could already tell that the ponies held the edge in procedural efficiency. I found myself studying their motions as they worked, intent on learning more about their strange ways. This proved easy, since neither side bothered us much, outside of the odd request to move over somewhere.

Zelac, thankfully, was also pacified by the ponies’ work as well. He tried to speak to them a few times, but was ignored. Not surprising, given the magnitude of their—

ba-bump

The worst shiver I’ve ever felt in my life ricochets through my spine, the hairs of my coat standing solidly on end. I’m slammed with an overwhelming feeling of pressure, emanating from the castle-palace. Caught completely off guard, I emit a halted, choked gasp at the tidal wave’s worth of new sensation.

“Wh—? S-sir?” Zelac, noticing the noise, turns to face me as I stumble back and lean against the railing, concern etched onto his face. “Sir, are you all right?”

Sweat begins beading across my body. My breathing is noticeably laboured. I know this feeling. I know this pressure. After all that’s happened, how could I not know? But how? That’s impossible! This is reality, not a dream! How am I feeling the alien’s pressure in the waking world?!

From afar, the doors of the castle-palace are flung open, wrapped in yet another multicoloured glow. A column of pony soldiers march out, their expressions a mix of gravely serious and frightened for their lives. They herald the subsequent arrival of the entire group of twelve I’d seen from yesterday, along with the Princes and their honourguards. But instead of being in a group, they were surrounding and moving a large, flatbed cart, tense as a spring and ready to act at the slightest provocation.

What they have on that flatbed cart forces me to bite my lip to suppress my reaction.

It’s the alien.

Secured to the flatbed by way of numerous thick, heavy chains, the exceptionally lifelike statue of that alien drew all attention to itself with barely any effort. The statue stood like a great, decorative pillar, locked into a pose that communicated so much at once: the marks and discolorations in the stone were cuts and bruises, and combined with the ragged clothing covering it’s genitals, told me that the creature was in a great battle prior to being transmuted into it’s stony form. But it’s posture and countenance told a very different story: far from looking defeated, it looked smug. Amused. Defiant. Indeed, defiance was the primary thing it’s pose communicated, along with the unmistakable undertone of a threat: not only was it utterly unbothered by it’s own defeat, it was threatening the ones who had imprisoned it so. Telling them to pray to whatever gods they held dear that they could keep him contained, because if they couldn’t, he would inflict upon them far worse than whatever he had done to them before. And he would do it with a smile.

All of that, communicated clear as crystal with only body language.

“S-suh-sweet merciful Lord above,” Zelac whimpers. “What is that?”

Whatever fleeting relief I felt at the fact that the alien was contained was crushed under the knowledge that he would be brought on board. However, when I look down at the Princes, each flanking the statue, it’s impossible to miss just how deeply uncomfortable they are. Nor can I miss the signs of exhaustion, or the bandages wrapped around their snouts: I was right to think their noses would bleed, too. And of the ruler ponies present, the blue one looked exhausted to a lesser degree than the Princes. After what transpired in that godsforsaken dream, I’m shocked any of them are even able to stand. I escaped by the skin of my teeth, and I still suffered some injuries.

Though now that I see her in the flesh again, I’m again consumed by worries. She knew I was in the dream. I evaded her sight, yes, so I wasn’t immediately identified like I was in my first fateful encounter with Zabraxas. I’m not even sure if she saw the yellow sun, either. But she definitely knew it had drawn upon that strange moonlight. I would need to be exceptionally wary around her; she would be suspicious, and given the intelligence I know she harbours, she could very well see right through whatever fronts and lies I present. If she comes aboard, my best course of action would be to evade her again, in reality as it was in the dream. If I can’t? I dare not imagine the outcome.

“I... I want to go back, sir,” Zelac cuts in, once again appropriately frightened. “Tuh-to our room. I don’t want to—”

“Yes,” I mutter, trying to conceal how unnerved I was. “Yes, we should. Let’s go.”

Normally, I’d never pass on the opportunity to learn more. This was an exception I was more than happy to make. I swallow dry as I retreat below deck, trying to hide my distress from any onlookers. The pressure from the alien made this extremely difficult: it wasn’t just a simple yet powerful sensation, as it was in my dreams. It actively crawled across my hide like oily fingers, actively turned my stomach in an almost manual manner, and created a truly alien feeling sensation from deep within me that I lacked the words and understanding to describe, yet it also felt strangely, hauntingly familiar. All I knew was that it was disturbing and invasive, to the point of being outright violative.

I was beginning to feel sick by the time Zelac and I made our way into our cabin. I made for the sink and filled the basin, drinking some of the cool water to fill my roiling stomach before splashing my face with the remainder.

“You look pale, sir,” Zelac notes, resting a hoof on my withers.

“I don’t feel well,” I admit, seeing no sense in lying about the blindingly obvious. “I need to... lie down for a bit.”

He bit my tail and all but dragged me over to the bed upon hearing that, and waited on whatever requests for water I made as I struggled to adjust to the horrible sensation, enough that I would be able to at least mask the fact I was feeling it at all. My ongoing worries about what came next, or the intentions of that blue mare, only made matters worse.

Words cannot express how much I want this godsforsaken trip to be over already.