The Interview

Twilight coughed heavily as the sensation of water flowed over her. She spun until she could not perceive what was up and what was down. The disorientation was overwhelming. She could see nothing for the longest time. But then, at the core of her being, a fire kindled deeply and warmed her body. Its guidance urged her to be calm. Through it, the anxiety drifted away, and then, too, the sensation of water. Her vision became clear, and the dreadful wave was nowhere to be found.

Twilight found herself in the vast expanse of her mind once more. She recognised that the little fire in her chest was the ever-watchful presence of Luna’s spell. Twilight whispered gratitude to it and Luna under her breath. But even with the spell, she could not escape the overwhelming sensation that encompassed her.

She was tired.

Her senses felt dulled, like an ever-present fog. At times, it proved difficult to remember exactly where she was or why she was doing this, only the vague awareness that she needed to do it. The longer it seemed she spent within the dreams of her mind, the more lost she became to her thoughts and doubts. Without Luna’s spell and the little training she had imparted, there was no doubt that she would have failed.

Twilight gazed up towards the golden threads that beckoned her. With a sluggish effort, she pulled herself along this ‘rope’, inching closer to the next place that the spell ever urged her to follow, presumably for where Baku had feld again. When her hoof finally touched its surface, the dream enveloped her.

The light became form. And form soon gave way to the recognisable trappings of a place Twilight was all too familiar with. Here, in the depths of her mind, it had constructed the very throne room of Canterlot, resplendent in all its grandeur.

But it was not the one she had known as her own; instead, two thrones stood at the head of the great hall, one carved from the sun and the other from the moon, just as they had been many moons ago. Upon them sat the familiar figures of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna sporting expressions of deep concern. Twilight's heart raced at the sight of them.

“Princess’s?” Twilight called out to the two former rulers. At first, she could only look at them and deduce that they were another creation of her mind—a bizarre amalgamation of her innermost fears bubbling to the surface. After all, had she not been warned that Baku would delve ever deeper into her thoughts and dreams as he fled?

But doubt ever gnawed at her, and the gloom that shrouded her returned tenfold. No sign of the black trail distinct to Baku’s poisonous presence was evident within the room nor around Celestia or Luna. Despite this, through her difficulty in thinking, a tangible feeling grasped her like a rope saving her from the abyss.

It all felt...real.

“This is unfortunate,” Celestia intoned heavily. Luna mirrored her sister’s expression of stern admonishment, which added to Twilight's growing unease. She resisted the urge to genuflect as she approached the throne.

“Why are you here? Are you real? This is so…strange. Why does this feel less…floaty? There’s something different about this place. This isn’t from me.” Twilight’s voice wavered as she spoke.

“Your observations are correct, Twilight,” Luna announced. “This particular place is a construct of my making. Celestia and I are present in a fashion.” Twilight lay a hoof against her face, her head shaking.

“That makes no sense,” she answered immediately.

“Trust your feelings, Twilight,” Luna continued. “Consult the spell I bequeathed thee; see there is no harm here.” She followed Luna’s command and searched reflexively for the comfort of the spell’s embrace, only to find it a hollow sensation. The perception it had granted vanished.

“It’s not working,” she said aloud in shock. She regarded the enthroned Princesses with despair. “Y-you’re really here?” Everything appeared cleared now, and whatever lingering shroud no longer hindered her thoughts. The renewed clarity of her focus brought forth a terrifying thought. “Baku, he’s here somewhere, too, then! We can’t let him escape.”

“We will deal with Baku in due time, Twilight,” Celestia answered, relaxed and stoic upon the sun-adorned throne. “Luna has the situation under control.” Twilight stepped forward to protest, the shock manifesting as restless energy. She quickly turned to face Luna.

“But you told me you could not enter! That he was too entrenched.” Twilight held her head with her hoof. “That you needed me to do this! You lied to me?” As she finished speaking, she could not stop her voice from cracking.

Luna sighed as her wings ruffled. “I lied as I have from the beginning. Baku did not escape. We let him go.” Twilight paused in place, and a wave of emotions poured over her. Shock, horror, shame, and disgust were all battled to be the foremost of her responses. How could they? Why would they? Her following words eked out unfiltered and without thought. They were the words of a mare who had hoodwinked and could not contain her astonishment.

“Why? To what end?”

“To see if you were ready, child, to govern the realm of dreams,” Luna said. She descended from height, and those once shining eyes that spoke of such determination to her earlier in the night now looked on with cold calculation. Twilight felt little more than a foal before such a look. “It seems we were wrong. You have failed to contain Baku and put your mind at severe risk and thus, as a consequence, Equestria itself.”

“Not for the first time,” Celestia followed. Twilight stepped away and shook her head vigorously.

“N-no,” Twilight stammered. She was shaking like a leaf at this point. This—isn’t right.”

Luna shook her head. “I had too much faith in you. I had hoped this would be an appropriate test, but this has proven to be beyond you. You have failed.” Each word Luna spoke was a hammer blow, and Twilight recoiled with every harsh syllable uttered.

“Perhaps you need more time, Twilight,” Celestia offered softly, her voice a warm blanket of parental chastisement, in contrast to the cold command Luna delivered.

“Yes, a few decades. To wean yourself from your tendencies,” Luna exhaled. She passed Twilight onwards beyond the room. From there, a shimmering light opened in the form of a door and out into a field of stars. “I will deal with Baku.” She glanced back to Twilight. “It would be best if you left this place. You are too much of a danger to yourself to see to this matter. Who knows what havoc you may wreak upon your mind should you persist. Return to the waking world and speak no more of this night.”

Twilight almost answered in the affirmative. Her head held low. She was upset but did not voice it. A good princess should not lash out like a foal. Her anger burned at the thought of Luna, Celestia, Baku, and most of all, herself. She was so close to catching him. To fall at the final hurdle just seemed cruel. It was almost improbable. That word hung in her mind, and with each moment passed, an onset of scepticism grew greater then as well.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed.

The spell Luna had crafted still showed no signs of Baku’s influence, but that struck Twilight as odd. As far as she knew, the spell had never misled her. And if that was true, there should be markings or lingering traces of that horrid black sludge trail that seemed to coalesce around him like grease, staining and dripping his poison ceaselessly everywhere he went. But within this room, there was not a single trace. It was clean. Perfect even. Piercing through the haziness of her mind that struggled to keep her thoughts on track, she no longer refused to close her eyes to the increasingly inescapable truth.

“No,” Twilight declared.

“No?” Luna turned around.

“No,” Twilight repeated. “Why would Luna send me to this place if she would deal with it herself?” She glared at Luna. “You told me that you trust me. That I could do this. And I believed those words, that I was the one to stop Baku. Princess Luna would never be as cruel to deceive me so.”

“I told you what I thought you needed to–”

“You’re wrong and a liar,” Twilight said more forcefully than before. “Every word that has come from your mouth is poison. But that’s what he does best, isn’t it?”

“That was an order, Twilight,” Celestia commanded from the throne. Whatever semblance of softness dissipated, and she carried herself as Luna did, a leader whose subordinate had spoken out of turn. Unfortunately for Celestia, Twilight did not feel very obliging at the moment.

"You aren’t the Princess of Equestria; I am,” Twilight declared, spinning to confront the visage of her mentor. “I don’t take orders from you anymore.”

“You must abandon this folly”, Luna declared from behind her.

“Give up?” Twilight said with harried breath. “Never. Not once have you ever encouraged me to quit. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it now. This is just another prison, isn’t it? Just as Baku has done from the start. To tear me down piece by piece.”

“Perhaps you have not considered that we have made a mistake?” Luna spat as she rounded on Twilight, her impressive height brought to full bear. However, the lesser mare did not flinch. “Or has the crown so emboldened thine ego?”

“You have,” Twilight answered. She refused to be cowed and stared up at the warped apparition of her friend. “You have made hundreds of mistakes. Countless, in fact. You told me yourself.” She stomped forward. “I will, too. I know.” Another step. “I am not afraid of the burden of being a princess. Not anymore.” Luna stumbled on the incline up to the throne, and Twilight marched on.

“I know why you chose me. I am not Celestia. I am not Luna. I don’t always react well to unexpected things; I am a bookworm. I feel awkward in social settings. I look up too much to figures in authority. I’m too dependent on my friends. I sometimes spiral. I am all those things.” Twilight inhaled deeply. A fierce energy burned within her and guided her, a flame renewed by the spilling of her innermost insecurities. “But I am also so much more. And I know, through everything I have done, everything my friends have done has led me to be the pony that I am today. I am Princess Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship and Protector of Equestria! And this farce is at an end!”

She did not remember precisely casting a spell. Only the vague feeling of her horn humming and discharging with a tremendous wave of power that shook the very foundations of the throne room. When this spear struck the edge of the dream itself, she could feel him resist, a slick black film coated upon the outer layer, suffocating all that resided within. The deception of his magic thus became utterly apparent; so intricately had he crafted this new mirage that it appeared as no more than shadows lengthening off midday light. Twilight heaved with exertion, and film bulged at the prodding, but it was sturdy, and whatever wards he laced on it were of deep and foul magic.

Twilight grunted as Luna seized her around the neck. They struggled while Twilight tried to maintain her spellcraft; through the corner of her eye, she could perceive Celestia's rapid approach.

Her attempts faltered, and the ward quickly moved to reform the webs broken by the initial onslaught. Twilight’s spell, still burned brightly from her now smoking horn, with all her strength, slammed into Luna so violently that the larger mare fell back, colliding with her sister before the two thrones. The thrones swayed momentarily before collapsing onto them as Twilight ducked away from their grasping hooves.

She stood anew and pushed once more. The pain at the base of her skull was now excruciating, and if the hold over the dream did not break, she would be spent. She heaved again, her mind casting aside the dream version of the sisters, the throne room, and all the words they had said. She focused clearly and without distraction.

There was nothing within the dream but herself. Her eyes shut, followed by the exhalation and inhalation of her breath. Every thought turned to the black sludge surrounding her. Before she had bludgeoned her way through, now she could feel it, how it responded, how it flexed and repaired itself. It was the work of a master dreamsmith. But her newfound serenity could see creases where once there had been none, and through that lay her salvation.

She sliced.

The first thing Twilight heard was a hideous shriek. Then, the room rocked and hissed, steam boiling on the walls. Like a light dismissing shadow, she could see the slick coating of black weeds burn away from the edges of her vision. Luna’s spell flared back into life in her chest. Only now could she perceive the perversion of her dreams. The sparkling interior peeled back, revealing a decayed, greying chamber, shattered windows, and cracked stone.

Before her, the forms of Celestia and Luna, which had struggled out beneath what were now plastic, cheap-looking thrones, saw that the alicorns were wooden caricatures with painted faces. Their mouths clattered open and closed, the little remnants of strings present at their joints, divided in a fine cut, the puppets guided no longer by their master.

Twilight knew he was near, yet she could hardly contain her desire to cry out in triumph before she felt a figure lunge in her direction. Long, thin fingers curled around her throat. A rasping voice echoed out.

“Clever pony. Very clever.”

There, Baku emerged from the shadows, and she beheld him up close. His thin, wiry frame was evident. Bones stuck against his pallid flesh. His mangey coat shifted constantly between grey and black, oozing his tar-like discharge. His lips curled back to reveal sharp, pointed teeth. The grey, lifeless eyes of the form to which he had embodied remained lined with angry red discolouration.

“I had a sweet gig here,” he growled as he tightened his grip. His laugh was a scratchy thing, whole of malice. “Could have got nice and strong ‘til that sow, Luna, caught wind.” His cruel eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted into a savage grimace. “Now I have to start again. Lay low for a few months and build myself up. It wasn’t supposed to go like this!”

Suddenly, the room tilted at a severe angle. Twilight could see from the corner of her eye that the centre of the room had torn open, revealing a tremendous bottomless pit. A void consumed the floor of the fake throne room, fixtures and fittings not tied down tumbled into it, then the scraping metal of the thrones as they flew by and collapsed into the void. Shortly thereafter, followed the fake Celestia and Luna. The room angled further. Baku drove her closer and closer to it, and the horror of what he intended to do became clear. He noticed, too, spittle running down his mouth.

“Notice that little thing? Do you recognise it? A little surprise for our nosey little princess. That, my foolish friend, is a pathway I cut to your subconscious. You followed me all the way down here. Didn’t even think where I was leading you, edh? Now, because you’re stupid, you don’t know what that means. But when I toss you in there, you ain’t ever coming out. You’ll be shredded into pieces. No one will save you. Not Luna. Not your friends. No one.” His paws were like iron clamps; Twilight swung her hooves uselessly against him, which did little but seemingly drove him to push forward more.

“N-no,” she croaked out.

“Noooo,” he mocked. “They chose a stupid foal to replace them. I’ve seen what makes you tick, girl, and let me tell you, you ain’t it! No matter what you say. Almost makes me feel bad taking away all yer thoughts.” He smiled widely. “Almost.”

Twilight was in complete panic between his grasp and the impending abyss that awaited her. Try as she might, she could not break his grip, and her magic seemingly would not come to her call. Some counter spell within his touch had robbed her of the ability to call upon it. But even as she flitted between the extremities of fear and horror, she could not help but notice that Baku was curiously cautious as he approached. Whatever trap he had laid through his nefarious magic was not one he was confident would not cause him harm as well.

He’s afraid he will fall in, she thought. Twilight drew up her memories, anything that could help her; she cried out for Luna to save her, her friends, and her family. But they were not here, only herself, and she could not escape.

Luna’s spell whined like ringing bells in her chest, urging her to react in kind to the closeness of Baku. She looked above, where the ocean of orb doors became apparent. She called out to them and urged them to come closer to get her away. But they remained stubbornly far and would not come at her summons. As she contemplated what soon could be her end, the softest voice echoed within her with words that brought with them the sudden starkness of light in the dark.

‘All that you see is you. And all that is you is yours alone to control. Not his. Your eyes deceive you, and he knows that.’

The words were not her own but Luna’s. One’s spoken to her just before she slept—words Twilight had discounted but now whose meaning became apparent.

This is me, all of it.

She looked at Baku, his face set in grisly determination. His rage blinded him so utterly that he could not see her demeanour shift. She did not need to reach her dreams. She did not even have to touch them; they were her, and through that, only she would guide how each dream acted.

A stray translucent orb manifested before her. The culmination of her efforts, a door to a different dream. But not like the others. For this one, Twilight willed, and only she knew what lay within it. Though she spoke no words, her thoughts were a command. Baku could barely register his shock before the door to the dream swung open, and light spilt out.

“Huh?” Baku muttered, taken off guard. His world lurched as the nightmare he had designed crumbled, replaced by something alien to him. He stood within a white void, stripped of all refinement and outline, a shadow revealed before the light.

He raised a paw to block it out.

But even the pain of the light meant little compared to the princess’s sudden newfound abilities. Such skill should have been beyond her capabilities. He then stared down at his empty paws and the absence of the little purple pony. He hissed as his rage bubbled over at the loss of his quarry. He cursed Twilight, Luna and all those who had stifled him over the past thousand years.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” a voice called to him from every direction and seemingly all at once. He spun around, lashing out. The shadows at his command furiously whipped out at all around him. But there was nothing to strike.

“Where are you?” he roared.

“Should be worrying about yourself, varmint.” From the white space plopped an orange mare in a Stenson; she barrelled into him, delivering a flying buck straight into his jaw, sending him spiralling to the ground. He yowled in pain as he rolled on the floor. By the time he stumbled to his feet, his assaulter had disappeared, and something else had taken her place.

The shapes and contours of buildings became evident and quickly metamorphosed into what appeared to be a small, backward provincial town. Despite its innocuous appearance, something about this place disturbed him. Then, upon the dirt trail before him, another mare emerged, her shining white coat and distinctive purple hair, her eyes narrowed in outrage.

“You beastly ruffian!” Baku felt the prick of a dozen sewing needles fly towards him; they cut him in his chest, legs and ears, and one in particular deeply pierced his paw. But at the end of each needle lay a silky thread, which spun over and around him like webbing. He vainly struggled against his prison, but a flock of birds beset him as he spun. Their screams and squawks were a cacophony of noise as they pecked and ripped his coat. From beneath the shadow of their attack, he stared in bemusement as they were directed by a yellow mare with a mane of pink. Her glare unsettled him profoundly.

His surprise did not last long, and his onslaught was grave as he called up the shadows, which violently erupted forth from his body magic, driving away the birds, slamming and destroying buildings, tearing up trees and burning all around him. He lashed out at the ponies that had battered him, but they harmlessly dissipated before his coils could strike them. His rampage similarly had only briefly interrupted the status of the dream; the buildings he destroyed and the flora burned all manifested as they were moments before he began his assault.

“What in Tartarus?” he asked. The words had only just left his mouth before a great roar surrounded him and sent him flying backwards; the blow caked him in streams of colourful confetti. A mighty cannon wielded by some mad curly-haired pony wildly laughing at his misfortune. His ears rang, and he grabbed them. He only managed to barely regain his footing before a flurry of blows struck against his back and head. No matter how much he lashed out and commanded his magic to squash the annoying harasser. But he could only perceive the blur of rainbow colour that danced away from his blows only to strike him again shortly after. The blur of rainbow colours was all he could perceive.

By this point, the faux-town's empty streets had filled; ponies, creatures of all shapes and forms, lined the narrow streets, forming some throng of a mob. They shouted abuse at him, demanding he leave, saying he was unwelcome and never to return. This was soon followed by hurling objects of ordinary use at him, such as books, rocks, and rotten fruit. He called upon streaks of black lightning and arced it towards the crowd, seeking to smite them.

But his power failed him again. The black lightning stopped and harmlessly bounced away from the ponies and creatures, like an invisible wall had been produced before them, leaving them untouched by his malice.

The crowd parted, and his five tormentors stepped forward. The terrible weight of their collective gaze caused him such discomfort that even though some of him wished to reach out and destroy them, his courage failed him utterly. He staggered away, his body shaking in terror as he understood the totality of his impotence.

His horror compounded his feeling of powerlessness—all those nights of toying with the princess, driving her worst fears, feeding upon the intoxicating mix of anxiety and terror seemed like a distant thing. Now, the only one who radiated fear was himself. His shadows coiled around his neck and threatened to choke him. He outstretched his paws, desperately attempting to put space between himself and his tormentors.

“W-what are you?”

With the shimmering of light, a star erupted in the sky before Baku, covering the land in mesmerising dancing purple, orange, and gold hues. From this display, a shape emerged from the convergence of the three colours at their centre. The Princess of Friendship was illuminated in a shining golden aura as she descended from on high to take her place next to the terrible five.

“They are me—every single part,” Twilight began. “Being the Princess of Friendship means more than just a title. Every experience wh have shared resides within me, each piece a building block of who I am. You have no power here.”

“T-this…this isn’t possible. It’s not fair!”

“I am not and never have been alone. Begone!” Baku shifted backwards, fear overcoming him; he looked to flee, to get away. His eyes widened in terror, and he looked between the frightening spectral figures glaring at him.

He stumbled, grasping towards the exit; he could flee safely to any place deeper within the princess’s mind. His panic consumed him utterly, without regard to where he was going, only that he needed to escape. Reprieve came to him in the form of a nearby dream that floated tantalisingly nearby. With little further thought, he reached out to it with his magic and grasped it greedily between his paws before the Princess enacted her vengeance upon him.

Relief washed over him as the bright flash took him away from the now glowing glares of the pieces of the princess's given form, though he could not shake a disturbed thought as he had glanced one last time at her, and a small smile had danced upon the young mare's lips.

His concerns were quickly vindicated. Whatever relief he felt at escape turned to deep horror as the door did not lead to another dream but rather a cliff edge—dangled above the abyss of the subconscious, the very place he had planned the Princess’s doom.

She had wheeled him back to the dream he had initially crafted. His momentum was too great to stop, and he fell into the rapidly disintegrating throne room. He wildly grasped at anything that could save him and felt the crunch of stone against his sharp claws. He felt his back slam against what could only be a spiral pillar that lined the sides of the throne room. He dangled precariously between on precipice of the side of the column, where a pane glass window eerily provided the only source of purple-stained light, in contrast to the ever-consuming nothingness below. His breathing was heavy as he tried to pull himself up. His efforts brought him to eye level with the panel of glass. Through the surge of fear, he began to laugh and cackle in his maddened state.

“No, no, no. This isn’t how-hehe mean; dark…dark…hehe.”

He drew close to the window that filled the space between each buttress. The princess and the other five ponies were shooting a beam of energy at some amorphous foe. His eyes widened as the pane-shaped Twilight and the others turned their eyes to him. Such terrible burning light emanated from his eyes; it crackled against his skin. Great and terrible shapes of light so bright it burned. The Twilight figure was now a giant in the pane of the window, as tall as the throne room itself, a vast white smile beneath those still burning eyes that so terribly rendered Baku asunder. The whisper the dread empress uttered reverberated like the tolling of bells.

‘Boo’

He gasped. His grip slipped from the buttress, which crumbled alongside the remaining ruined structures of the false throne room. The stone crashed over him, and the glass shattered and fell towards the pit. He departed with an unearthly shriek as he fell. As he disappeared into the void, he was heard from no more.

Twilight stared down from her spot at where the glass had once stood. The dreams she had connected began to fade away, and the hole that swallowed Baku slowly grew smaller and smaller until it was no longer in view. Luna’s spell hummed in her chest one last time, and fell silent.