The Interview

by Coronet the lesser

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Luna, Drama, Original Character, Mystery, Spike, Other, Twilight Sparkle, Violence, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 17086

Twilight has been having the same dream every night for weeks. A stallion interviews her before a crowd, which turns into an anxiety driven nightmare. But when the nightmares affect her waking life, she begins to suspect something more sinister

The newly enthroned Twilight Sparkle has been plagued by the same nightmare for weeks.

A strange stallion interviews her before a crowd, where he confronts her with her greatest fears and doubts. But when she wakes up, nothing is amiss.

But as the nightmares continue to worsen and begin to affect her waking life, she begins to suspect something more sinister.

Recruiting the help of the now-retired Princess Luna, Twilight must delve into the very depths of her psyche to battle a foe unlike any other she has faced before or risk losing all that she is.

Set a few months after the Ending of the End.

*Violence tag for the action parts occurring in chapters 5 and 6*

Published 2024-12-10 20:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-12-13 20:57:41 UTC

1.Stay Tuned We Are Just Getting Started

The light was blinding.

Even as Twilight closed her eyes, their intensity still cut through. She raised a stray hoof to stem the glare. In front of her, she could sense the cacophony of a dozen or more voices assembled into a crowd, adding to her growing sense of unease.

Then the lights dimmed and no longer seemed so all-encompassing. Solid outlines of objects returned to her vision, and the assembly was now clearly present. Regular-looking ponies sat before her upon rows of bleachers going back through a dark auditorium. Yet one constant remained: all of their eyes focused on her. Unblinking yet ever-present, and no matter where she turned her head, their eyes did follow. Interspersed between the rafters were hooded unicorns pressed themselves against mechanical cameras that took still photos and audio equipment that spun as they recorded from outstretched fluffy microphones.

Twilight found herself in an uncomfortably austere chair that pressed against her wings. To her right was a large empty table with a sitting stool. Behind this lay a deep red curtain pulled down. Where she sat was illuminated in the oversaturated light of great lamps that hung over the audience's heads. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, the crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, their excitement palpable. The curtain dramatically parted, revealing a figure illuminated in the sickly bright light.

He was a plain stallion of unremarkable distinction, yet something about him made Twilight feel queasy. He sported a grey dapple suit which matched his pale, tuft-strewn coat. Large, watery eyes darted rapidly back and forth as he stared out at his adoring audience. Beneath them, he sported a broad smile unwaveringly affixed to his face.

He practically threw himself at the crowd from where he emerged, his steps swift and confident. To them, he gave out hugs and hoofshakes aplenty, his charisma undeniable. His efforts only drove them to more delirium until the noise was thundering. After he satisfied himself with his schmoozing, he turned his smiling person to Twilight. He swept her up into an unwelcome hug.

Then, like a flash, he retreated, gripping her hoof skyward as if she were a champion prized fighter. His antics pleased the audience, who reciprocated with the steady drumbeat of their hooves against the floor and rafters. The constant thud, thud, thud thundered like a locomotive engine; the stage seemed to shake and bounce as they carried on the rhythmic steps of delight.

“Princess Twilight, everypony!” he cried. “Isn’t she a star?” Twilight could only sheepishly wave. Something about the backdrop of the overbearing lights cast shadows over the standing ponies, the whites of smiles visible against the shadows. The Host was still beside her in the centre of it all, a conductor before his orchestra.

The noise from the crowd subsided as the Host took his seat. “We are so happy you’re here today, princess,” he said. “Aren’t we, folks?” Another cheer from admiring spectators. Twilight felt relatively small in her chair. She felt the words spill from her lips before she could even think:

“It’s an honour to be here.”

“I’m sure you’re very busy with all your new role,” he said, leaning back. “I mean taking over from the ancient royal sisters as the sole ruler of Equestria.” He gesticulated as he shot her a knowing smirk. “No pressure.” The audience laughed. Twilight’s stomach twisted.

“Oh, it’s a hooful all right,” she admitted. “But I take every day one step at a time.”

“I mean, is it fair to say you have no experience,” he stated openly. “Like, isn’t that crazy?” He looked from side to side for affirmation, intermittently nodding at his question. “Weren’t you a librarian previously?” Twilight let her nervous smile slip for but a moment. She laughed instead; it alleviated the surging headache preliminarily forming at the forefront of her skull.

“Well, the adventures my friends and I have had have given me plenty to bring to the role,” Twilight answered to the dead silence of the crowd. She shuffled into her seat. The Host hummed.

“You and your friends have been on some wacky adventures, that’s for sure. But fun adventures make a ruler not.” He tilted his head to the side. “Would say that’s fair?”

“I d-don’t,” Twilight stammered. “I mean, it’s fair you believe that, bu-”

“I mean to go from a lowly librarian to the most powerful pony in the world,” he interrupted. He slammed his hood against the desk. “Just like that.” The noise of his strike echoed through the hall as the crowd hushed; only the the buzz of the overhead lamps and the click of the audio equipment remained. Their heat had produced a slick line of sweat on her forehead.

“I would agree it's…unusual.”

“Some would say foolish,” the Host retorted, and his pleasant demeanour vanished. He leaned over the table, the shadow of his form looming, and the edges to which touched her gave off a deep chill despite the rest of her dealing with intolerable heat.

“Celestia chose me,” she protested weakly.

“You mean the same Celestia that can’t seem to stop any of those rampaging bozos that show up from Tartarus knows where,” the Host declared. “The same Celestia that didn’t tell you about any of them.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Maybe there's a bit of senility coming on.” The crowd mimicked his empty laughs, and Twilight could only scowl in disgust.

“That’s not fair! Celestia is a great leader.”

Her statement only increased his amusement. “Sore point, eh?”

“This isn’t about her.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed. “You’re the guest, after all. Since you broached the topic seamlessly, let’s talk about fairness.” He eyed her predatorily; those greyish-blue eyes bored into her; there was something very wrong with those eyes of his. “You know what’s not fair?” They glimmered little lamps dancing in the dark hollows of his face. “Stealing.” The crowd let out a delighted ‘ooh’. Twilight shook her head in astonishment.

“Stealing?”

He nodded. “How does Equestria feel about having a thief as a princess?” His audience lapped it up with a chorus of indignant shouts, clarifying their thoughts on the concept.

“I have never stolen a thing in my life.”

“No?” He pursed his lips together like two slimy worms. Twilight only noticed the yellow tinge of his teeth or the patchwork nature of his suit. “The hippogriffs would disagree.”

She turned her head downward, brow furrowed in consternation. The shame and guilt washed over her, recalling her lowest moment in her short stint as the Princess of Friendship. Even when she had made amends and ponies had assured her that she was only doing what she thought she was right, it did not dampen the feeling. “T-that was different,” she stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking. Equestria was on the brink. Things were desperate. The h-hippogriffs forgave me.” She rattled off each line faster than the one before. It mattered nought to the ponies arrayed before her. The boos rang out with a ferocity, echoing round and round, a cacophony of condemnation.

“But you did it anyway!” he declared over the din. “You were willing to take another nation's only defence to fix the fact that you were too weak to stop the Storm King.” He pointed his hoof at her; his head spun to the crowd, shock and anger dancing across his features. His befuddlement only seemed them on.

“I had to!” she exclaimed, standing from her seat. The ponies paid no mind. Angry shadows, snarling visages bayed against, shouting cruel insults—an amorphous swarm of outrage. The lights burned brighter; her skin felt aflame.

Thief.

Liar.

Unworthy.

She screamed, but all she could hear was the host’s voice calling out.

“Don’t go anywhere, folks. We’re just getting started.”

Twilight awoke in a cold sweat. The moon hung high in the sky; its pale light poured through the open window. The chilly breeze washed over her, and she gripped the blankets with ragged breaths.

She blinked and turned to her clock. It read four fifteen. It is too early to wake to set the moon down, but it is too late to return to meaningful sleep. She had experienced nightmares before, but rarely had they felt as real as the one she had just experienced.

Luna had once explained to her that the world of dreams was not mere thoughts but the conscious spirit bringing unbridled imagination to life. It was a form of the world between worlds, mostly harmless.

Harmless.

The word rang around her head. It was nothing more than a silly nightmare. She threw her head back to the pillow. A deep sigh escaped her lips.

The sun would rise soon, and the world would need its princess to be fresh and ready to meet it. Harrowed words faded away before sunlit skies and the night’s terrors soon a distant passing thing.

Only a dream, she told herself.

Only a dream.

Author's Note

It's been a while. Life has been busy. I really have been trying to get this out for the past couple of months. It's my first multi-chapter story in years and one with plenty of action to boot. I hope people enjoy it.

2. What Are You Like?

Twilight stared up at the array of lights, bright and hot on her face. She stared down to see that she was seated. The shape of an audience lay out before her: faceless black silhouettes lined in two rows. She raised herself from the seat, and her eyes blinked furiously at the ever-stinging glare of the ever-present lamps.

“Princess Twilight?”

The words shook her from her bewildered state. Her head instinctively turned to the source, glad to escape the blinding illumination. Across a cheap wooden table leaned a stallion sporting an easy-going smile through pale worm-like lips. His grey-blue eyes stared at her, and for a moment, she thought she could see black dots swirl in his sclera before vanishing.

“I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?” Twilight asked tentatively.

“We were just discussing how you are dealing with the publicity. You know, to go from, well, nothing to everything?” Twilight bit her lip.

“Well, it's been a challenge, to say the least.”

“A challenge?” he chuckled. A few laughs and polite giggles followed from the crowd. “Are you not the Princess of Friendship?” He turned his head back toward the shapeless features of the crowd, and as he took in the darkness.

“I wasn’t always,” Twilight answered a bit too quickly if the interviewer's face was any indication.

He smiled slyly, his low lip quivering briefly as if some startling revelation had been laid bare. “That’s right. You were once just a regular old unicorn, weren’t you?”

That look had only stirred discomfort in her—a dread, but less than it should have, though she could not discern why. She gulped; her throat was dry, and the heat was a haze.

“That’s correct.” She cleared her throat. “It's only a relatively short time since I was a student.” She laughed nervously. “In many ways, I’m still learning.”

“I suppose that is true,” the Host agreed. He clicked his tongue in contemplation. “From what your teachers say, you were a model student.” Twilight smiled at that. “But there’s some rumours you had a… predilection to nervous behaviours. Do you have a problem with nerves?” Twilight blinked several times.

“No, w-well. Perhaps from time to time in the past.” She straightened herself up in her seat. The Host seemed to loom closer than before.“I don’t listen to gossip,” Twilight stated firmly. An inquisitive eyebrow lingered upward on the stallion’s face.

“No recent anxiety-induced episodes? That’s all this is? Just gossip?”

“Y-yes.”

“But wasn’t there a time from Ponyville of some magical misplaced mishap? About a unicorn casting forbidden attraction magic on a young doll?” The Host smiled enough to show teeth. The crowd let forth soft gasps and ‘oohs’.

“T-that–”

“Requiring the intervention of a certain sun princess,” he finished promptly; the crowd rumbled dangerously.

“I made a mistake,” Twilight answered. She instinctively tugged on her mane. “It was some time ago. I have learned since then.”

“Oh really?” He hummed deeply to himself before eyeing the audience. “But it wasn’t the last time?” Twilight’s brows furrowed, and she gulped audibly.

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, I am no gossip merchant, upstanding monarchist that I am, but less than scrupulous sources allege the palace is practically awash with tales of a princess on the verge of collapse.” A shocked chorus of gasps rang out around them. “The Princess of Friendship is working herself into a frenzy over planning festivals and summits, unable to control the sun and moon without obsessing over their minute placement in the sky. An embarrassingly unhinged display on a trivia night of all things.” The shocked silence turned into a gaggle of laughs. Twilight shrunk against her seat.

“Sometimes I take my duties a bit too seriously,” she tried to speak over the din.

“Do your meltdowns impact your duties?” he asked, regardless of the furore. Twilight’s eyes widened in horror at the implication.

“No, absolutely not. I have control of my anxiety. I haven’t had an incident in months.”

“Months? So, they have happened recently.” He laughed deeply, a hollow and raspy thing. “Oh, how fortunate you are only in the most anxiety-inducing position in the entire world.” A chortling chorus of his fans followed his laugh.

“No, I’m better,” Twilight snapped. “My friends have helped me–”

“And when are they not there?”

“W-what?”

“Who will be there to hold your hoof?” he hummed. “To make sure you're not broken. So Equestria isn’t paralysed because its gracious leader can’t think without a list by her side!” His roar riled the crowd. Boos and sighs of disgust rang out.

“N-no, please,” she pleaded, her head spinning between the crowd and looking at the host aghast. “I just. Sometimes it's not easy to–.” Twilight would have given anything for the blasted lights. Yet even though every instinct told her to leave, to get away, she could not. An unseen force froze her in place to bear the noise of condemnation.

“In how they can’t handle the slightest bit of stress. What will you do when things go wrong? Why would our esteemed Princess of Friendship lie down, unable to function? Would you lead Equestria to total ruin?!” His audience took up the call. Their words pelted, as harsh as stones.

“Not worthy.”

“She’s unwell.”

“Fraud!”

“Freak!”

“How can you manage the whole world when you can barely manage yourself?” the Host snapped with disgust. He recoiled from her as if her anxiety were a contagious fume.

“No,” Twilight cried. No. This isn’t right.” Twilight placed her hooves over her ears. She shut her eyes, but the hateful voices still followed. Her words came about with no filter or consideration, just the whimpers of a mare that had had enough. “I-I. No, stop. I didn’t mean it. You’re wrong. I can do this. Celestia chose me. She chose me. She chose me!”

“Princess?”

Twilight blinked blearily through tired eyes. Ears strained at the mention of words in her direction. She turned her head.

“Councillor Drew Drops, you must forgive me. It seems I have lost track of the conversation.” She smiled slightly towards the greying bearded stallion across the vast meeting room table. Other ponies present looked on with curious glances but said nothing.

“Ah, as you wish, Princess. I was merely asking for your opinion on the potential schedule amendments to the proposed charter for establishing a cargo company to take over the train line between Trottingham and Baltimore. The current costs are exuberant to the Crown. I had the figures here somewhere on a previous slide. Um, it’s one or two b-back.” He turned to the clipboard and furiously tried to find the place where he had left them.

Twilight found her head dropping again. It went unnoticed amongst most of the room except to her side, where her ever-faithful assistant looked on in concern. He whispered as the speaker regained his place.

“You good, Twilight? I know it’s not exactly exciting, but this is only our second meeting today.”

“I’m fine, Spike,” she answered out the side of her mouth, never taking her eyes from the speaker, making sure to nod as he tediously repeated balances and budget calculations. “I just slept badly last night.”

Spike nodded and returned to the speech. But throughout the day, he was keenly aware whenever Twilight yawned or was not her usual meticulous self. Spike shrugged it off. Everypony had off days, he supposed.

3. All That You Fear

Twilight gasped as she slumped forward. The bright lights atop the ceiling beamed down to the centre of an amphitheatre—tall rows of seats spanning upward in a semi-circle. Dark silhouettes of the crowd, like a procession before an altar, silent and gaping, dead eyes fixed to the centre of their pulpit. Twilight sat alone in the centre, before her a heightened podium; the grey shabby stallion sat in ponderous judgement of her.

His smile stretched thinly over pallid flesh, and his grey eyes blinked with inky spots, merging and separating constantly. The shadows across his face produced an almost skull-like visage.

“So, what about it?” he half asked, half hissed. Yellow bile dripped down across his chin. A rotten apple lay at his side, covered in incessantly buzzing flies.

“What about what?” she responded almost instinctively. The feeling of claustrophobia was overwhelming. She tried to push herself away, but the chair refused to move. The crowd appeared closer suddenly, just out of touching distance.

“Your friends?” She narrowed her eyes, and not from the oppressive glare of the lights.

“What about them?”

“You are close, aren’t you?” he queried, despite clearly knowing the answer to the question asked already. There was a wet splat as a liquid dripped from a leak from the ceiling. Twilight turned her gaze upward; a black splotch had spread there, and its contents fell intermittently to the table below, where it sizzled.

“We are.”

He adjusted himself to be closer to them, his voice dipped low. “You rely on them?” Twilight resisted the urge to back away—not that she could go anywhere. She stiffened in her seat, her head held high—another drip from the ceiling.

“Yes, I do. They are my world.”

“Isn’t that sweet? I imagine they form a considerable part of your success. Shoulders to bear the load. Purveyors of advice and emotional comfort, too.”

“As I said, I rely on them. That isn’t news.”

“No, of course.” He nodded his head. “The Princess of Friendship does require friends.” He lingered on the statement for a moment before continuing. “It does raise some troubling questions, does it not?” Twilight’s wings twitched in agitation.

“If you suggest my friends have some form of nefarious influence over me and my duties, you are very much mistaken.”

“I would never suggest such salacious slander,” the Host said as he laid a cracked yellow hoof across his chest. “But to the tricky matter at hoof, you are an alicorn, and they mere mortals.” Twilight stared at her opposite number; her breaths felt heavy.

“I don’t follow.”

“Ah, ah, ah, it is rude to tell fibs,” he pronounced, a trail of spit following his final word. “You know exactly what I am talking about. Don’t you?”

She was a flurry of emotions contained only by the paralysing sense of tightness in her chest, which wedded to her seat. But her mind could only be defined by the chaotic and contradictory impulses that tugged relentlessly for her immediate attention. One part of her wished to smack him, another to crawl into a corner away from the harshness of his words.

But instead, she did neither. She could only look on, a slight twitch of the mouth betraying her distress. But even her eyes found no respite, only the judging faces of the audience and by the expressions on her face, she was failing. There were no avenues for exit, only the question, the questioner and a captive audience that waited patiently for her answer. Her recourse was simple: to push through.

“One day, my friends will be gone, yes.” She stopped, considered her admission, and continued, finding no way to sidestep the Host’s trap. “And I will remain.”

“And then what? What is the Princess of Friendship without her friends?” Whether it be the glare of the lights or Twilight merely seeing something, his eyes were shining with a golden tinge. Red veins danced in the whites, and he blinked blearily to clear what discomfort had taken them.

“I haven’t thought about it,” she admitted. She hugged one of her wings and gripped it tightly, a piece of driftwood to a drowning mare.

“The smartest mare alive hasn’t thought about this?” The Host practically rocked with laughter. The crowd followed suit. She did not move; her protests were lost in the whirlwind; the heaviness of her breathing came as another unpleasant sign of her rising upset. He did not wait. There was no respite, no moment of peace; the disrobement needed to be complete. A good host does not let silence be their partner, so he continued in a stinging tone. “What will you do when you are alone?”

“I am not alone,” she rebuked, but the effect came off as a whimper. The desperate pleading of a mare that knew her words rang hollow. “I won’t be alone. I have…”

“The princesses?” the Host offered; he tilted his head slightly.

The ceiling dripped.

“Gone off into retirement, why would they hang around playing nurse?” He tapped his hoof against the table. “Your niece? She’ll be running the Crystal Empire, hardly the shoulder to lean on. Aren’t you supposed to be the adult?”

He snorted at his speculation; the edges of his black gums became evident in his smile. Another few droplets crashed against the table.

He sighed wistfully. “And dear Spike...”

“Spike?” she asked, frightened.

“He, too, will leave,” he whispered. “Grow old and fly to wherever dragons go.” His drunk-sick eyes bore into her. Several drops crashed against the table. Splat, splat, splat they went. “And then that leaves…you.”

“Me?”

“You are all alone, trying to keep it together, but you know you can’t. Without them, all of them, you are just a neurotic little librarian playing pretend.”

Splat.

The table overflowed with rotten black slime, which hissed and burned in the light. A foul odour of spoiled vegetables and sun-cooked seaweed filled the air.

“But we can see the truth. The real mare beneath the mask you, oh so, love to indulge them with.” He gestured dismissively to his adoring fans. Were those canines amongst his set of teeth? A stray thought whispered to her. “Nowhere to hide now, Miss Sparkle. No magic rainbows to save you this time. Now everyone knows who you really are!”

She shook her head, her mouth agape in horror at his words, but her protests died in her mouth. A noiseless scream she let forth, her chair flung back. The horrid black drip on the table had crawled up her forehoof and continued until the threads of what appeared to be a reeking web had spun onto her. Yet she could not struggle against it; she felt it constrict around her; reeking tar swept her nostrils. The studio erupted in black rainfall as it flooded the stage. Only the Host looked on. Not a single besmirching mark lay upon his shabby suit. His voice echoed and reverberated louder than anything an actual pony could speak.

“You’ll even forget them. Their names, their faces. Soon, it all becomes a blur.”

Her eyes widened further as the dreadful branches wrapped around her. A terrible revelation struck her still in horror. His mouth no longer moved. It remained affixed in a broad, empty smile.

He had spoken to her through thoughts.

Every aspect and concern lay bare, with no escape even in her solitude. His gaze pierced into the depths of her fears. She struggled and clawed for her magic, but it would not come. The darkness consumed her. The singular thought continued to echo in the void.

“All alone.”

Twilight awoke with a jolt. Profoundly disorientated, she almost fell out of her seat, only to be caught by two outstretched claws. She nearly lashed out to escape them, the nightmare still evident in her mind before her vision became clear. Spike stood close, concern apparent in his eyes.

“Jeez, Twilight!” He gently righted her into the chair. Twilight grimaced at her drool, which pooled on whatever government documents she had been reviewing.

“Spike? she asked blearily, yawning once. “Sorry, I was just resting my eyes.” Spike stood back, his claws on his hips.

“Twilight, this is the third time today I’ve caught you napping,” he said disapprovingly.

“I haven’t–

“–been sleeping well,” he finished. “Yes, I’ve heard you say that every time over the past few weeks.” He sighed as he shook his head. “Twilight, the staff are beginning to talk. You can barely stay awake in meetings. You are not even reading like you used to!” Twilight scowled deeply.

“Spike, it’s not like I’m doing this deliberately.” Slowly, she reorientated the documentation into a neat pile; her magic sent the water-damaged document to lay beneath a nearby window to dry. “I’ve even been to the doctor. I’m just tired, is all, and the dreams…”

“Yeah, sitting in a crowded room being interviewed by some jerk,” Spike repeated. He crossed his arms, staring at his charge.

“He says it’s stress-related,” Twilight said. “I guess my responsibilities are taking a toll on me.” She shot him a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing, just a stupid nightmare.” Spike moved to speak, but Twilight waved him off. “And before you say I’m doing great, I know. That’s why it is anxiety; it is irrational.” She chuckled dryly. Spike continued to seem unimpressed.

“This has been going on for weeks, Twi. You, more than anyone, know nightmares can be more than that. That’s why we need to move beyond a mere doctor.” Twilight frowned and turned her head to him.

“That’s silly, Spike; who?” Finally, the little drake smiled a sly, devious grin. Confusion flashed briefly across Twilight’s face before the realisation of his words sank in.

“Oh no.”

The former Princess of the Night did not speak for a good while. She appeared to be deep in thought as she occasionally took a small sip of the tea provided. After some time, she gently placed the cup on the table before her. Her azure eyes opened, fixed squarely on Twilight, who sat opposite her.

“I must say, Princess, I am most concerned,” Luna spoke softly. Twilight could not resist the urge to groan.

“Luna, it's Twilight. We’ve known each other for years.” The former princess could not suppress a mischievous little grin from adorning her face.

“But it is so very amusing to see you oh so averse to the formalities of your position.”

“Har-Har,” Twilight intoned as she put down her cup. “Formalities do not concern me, least of all in front of you, Princess.” Luna laughed fully now, like bells' gentle tingling, before speaking again.

“I must admit, I have missed your company, Twilight,” Luna said. “It has been far too long.” Twilight returned the smile, grateful for the brevity.

“Ruling a nation tends to disrupt things.”

“I understand better than most,” Luna chuckled. “To the matter at hoof, Spike has told me much of what you have experienced.” The young dragon perked up at the mention of his name.

“Yes, he’s been very diligent,” Twilight grudgingly admitted, sparing the moment to shoot the drake a glare. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

“You should not be too hard on him, Twilight. Much of what he has relayed disturbs me.” Luna’s expression turned serious, and whatever relief Twilight enjoyed from reconnecting with a friend evaporated. Luna inspected Twilight closely, who flinched slightly. “Your sleep is disturbed of late?”

“Yes, it has been,” Twilight said softly. Suddenly, the night's fatigue swept over her, and she slumped in her seat. “I’ve tried everything: medication, deep sleep therapy. But…”

“But?”

Twilight slumped. “I underwent observation, and the doctor noticed no physical reason for the breaks in my sleep rhythm.”

“We’re clueless, is what she is saying,” Spike summarised. Luna sat, eyes squinted, as she considered things. After some time, she spoke again. “No one else is having any sort of similar issues, so it seems only Twilight is affected.”

“Your nightmare, is it the same every night?” Luna asked gently.

“Well…relatively the same,” Twilight said. “It’s difficult to remember. My doctor assures me it’s just latent anxiety. Some ponies dream of shattered teeth constantly. He says it will pass once I am more settled into my role.”

“The court physician is an astute fellow,” Luna stated. “But he is very wrong.” Twilight blinked, mouth agape.

“How?”

Luna inhaled before she spoke, her features grave and her lips a thin line. “Your nightmare is unnatural and did not originate within your mind. The realm of dreams has long been my charge, and I have encountered all manner of nightmares. This one is too…particular. There is a manner of fabrication present that is unmistakable to me.

“That was not the only reason why I came. I will admit something to you of which I am not proud. I had tried to enter your dream before we met today. Before you say that this is alright and you trust me, this is no matter of mere trust. I firmly believe in not prying into the dreams of those dear to me unless absolutely necessary. After Spike told me of your dream, I acted rashly and sought to crush this nightmare.”

“But Twilight is still having this nightmare!” Spike protested.

“I tried young Spike. I was rebuffed.” Her voice was little more than a murmur as she answered.

“How is that possible? You’re the princess of dreams!” Twilight exclaimed in disbelief. “This isn’t another Tantabus situation?” Her voice filled with concern for the horror of the potential return of such a thing and a renewed sense of worry for her friend’s wellbeing.

Luna shook her head. “You can rest assured at least that this unfortunate situation is not of my doing, nor do you need to be concerned for me regarding my own demons, for that old wound has now firmly closed.” A deep sigh escaped her dark lips, and the mare in front of Twilight seemed to age before her eyes. Though the Lunar Princess still smiled, it was a tired and strained thing. “Though the realm of dreams is my demesne, I am no longer as I once was. My connection to the moon is the font of my power, and with its passing to you, so too have I waned.” She shook her head as if to shake off the years that had belayed her. “Nonetheless, no regular nightmare would be powerful enough to deter me. As I said, this is not a natural thing. Rather, it confirms my fears that your dreams are subject to a demon of the metaphysical plain.” Twilight’s expression could only register confusion.

“A demon?”

“More of a parasite, if I am being technical. And of that, I am most certain. The symptoms you have displayed are not alien to me. I have seen them before. But not for many, many years.” Luna removed an ancient-looking book from a saddle bag. She laid the book on the table between the cups of tea and turned it around to Twilight. Illustrated in stylised colour was a figure resembling a diamond dog but as tall and thin as a post. His slouched posture gave him a crooked and angular appearance with pointed ears and a cone-like muzzle in the facial area. His attire was a spotty and dishevelled blood-red coat that nearly touched the floor. The drawing illustrated great, thick, shadowy tendrils which danced around his form. His face contorted into a grim scowl.

“Baku the Dream Eater is his name.” Luna frowned deeply. “He is an old foe from a darker time.”

“A demon that can eat dreams,” Spike echoed in parts awe and horror.

“Yes,” Luna said gravely. “It is how he gains power.” She gestured to Twilight. “Your innate anxiety may have drawn him in.” Luna stood from her seat and faced away from Twilight and Spike. Her words came out as a growl. “Much of the dreamscape’s protective seals that I had placed against those from the outside have fallen into disrepair in my absence.”

“The outside?” Twilight interjected. Luna turned her head back around.

“Beyond creation. Baku is not of the living world, but he is not dead. He is a creature of the unseeing world.”

“Woah,” Spike whispered.

“You said you fought him before,” Twilight said, looking Luna in the eyes.

Luna nodded. “Yes, many of his kind. For he has–had many siblings. Vile creatures.”

Twilight rubbed the side of her head with her hoof in consternation. She sucked in a quick breath and exhaled. “So now he’s my problem. Why me?

“You, as a creature of immense power, are an unparalleled opportunity for him,” Luna explained. “To my deep regret, I have not prepared your magical defences against his advances. He must not have believed his luck when he came upon you. It seems I cannot stop making mistakes no matter how hard I try.” Luna grimaced as anger passed over her features. “I hope you can forgive me, Twilight.”

“There is no way you could have known,” Twilight reassured the former monarch. She exited her seat and laid a reassuring hoof on Luna’s shoulder. The taller alicorn smiled somewhat forlornly through whatever anger she had been holding onto passed like a shadow before light.

“You are too kind to this old mare Twilight. You are right, of course. We must excise this beast before he can harm you more.”

“What happens if we don’t get rid of him?” Spike asked, his worry not diminishing despite Twilight’s words.

“He cannot physically harm Twilight if that worries you, young Spike.” Luna returned to the book. “But he will exhaust you and eventually consume the happy thoughts that make up the better part of yourself.” Spike yelped, and even Twilight gasped. “That is not even to mention the damage he may cause if he feasts much longer on alicorn magic. We are not regular ponies, and there could be drastic consequences that even I cannot foresee.”

“We have to stop him then,” Twilight declared.

“You will,” Luna agreed sternly. She closed the book vigorously. “He believes you, an ignorant child. His long years of imprisonment have made him irrationally greedy.” Luna hummed to herself briefly before nodding. “Yes, he will be reckless. You must confront and crush him while he is still overconfident.”

“You didn’t mention we?” Spike interjected once more. He looked worriedly at Twilight. “She’s going to do this on her own?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Luna said sadly. “Baku is entrenched. I cannot enter as I said. He has grown strong. If it tried to throw my full might against him, I would either harm Twilight or alert him, and he would then flee deeper into her mind. But more than that, it is time you took the first steps.”

“My first steps?” Twilight queried.

“To help protect the world of dreams,” Luna answered. “I had not planned to train you until you had settled into your role.” Twilight looked befuddled.

“T-to protect the world of dreams? But Celestia never dealt with the dream world when you were gone. How can I hope to do both?” Twilight felt her heckles rise at the worry of potentially additional responsibilities to her already packed schedule. It seemed an odd thought, considering the revelation of a parasitic dream monster's existence in her head. Still, even that did not daunt her like the mundane existence of additional royal work.

“You won’t,” Luna reassured her. “I have not been idle in my retirement. I plan to train a school of dreamerwalkers to guard and protect Equestria. Once, long ago, I took many students, but the tradition has fallen into disuse.” Luna studied Twilight with those shimmering eyes of hers. “But you are the Princess of Equestria, and you must be the last line of defence should all else fail.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Twilight said quietly. “I will face him.”

“Good.” Luna turned her head to the dragon. “Let us begin.” Luna’s eyes twinkled with determination and a slight grin.

Twilight sat at the edge of her bed. Her nerves frayed at the thought of sleep. She turned to Luna. “So, I just lay down and go to sleep?” Luna nodded; her horn briefly hummed with a bright blue aura. Twilight could even perceive the glint of starlight humming from within the hue. “And this will help?”

“Yes, it will guide you, but more than that, it will allow you to remain lucid, an anchor amongst the chaos of your sleeping thoughts. Baku will be unaware.”

Twilight gulped. “Piece of cake, right? Is it bad that I’m nervous?” The floor looked enticing, anything to be away from what she was sure was Luna’s judging gaze.

Luna gave a reassuring smile. “No, it means you’re not a fool. But more than that, I know you can do this. Few I believe in as much as you. Do you trust me?” Luna gently lifted Twilight’s chin to meet her eyes.

“Y-yes,” Twilight choked out.

“Then believe in me when I say you will succeed,” Luna said with a tenderness that Twilight had not expected of the former princess. The bundle of worry in her chest lessened, and a calm serenity took its place. Luna had lived hundreds upon hundreds of years, and for her to speak in such a manner meant something.

“Okay, you’re right.” Twilight took the edge of the covers and draped them over herself.

Luna gently rubbed Twilight’s cheek. “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.” She stepped back towards the door.

Twilight nodded and said nothing more as she snuggled into the covers; the warmth of her bed was now as comforting as a cold chill, the once welcome embrace of sleep a door into the unknown. But she did not resist it as it claimed her. She had a duty to undertake.

Luna had lingered at the door. She took in her friend's sleeping form. When she spoke, her words were but a whisper.

“Courage and valour find you, Twilight. Send this fiend back to the abyss.”

Author's Note

Next Chapter will be out tomorrow!

4. Cutting Things Short

Twilight could once more feel the light’s heat against her skin before her eyes could take in anything. It was some time for the familiar setting of her night terrors to come into focus. The cheap wooden desk and the indistinguishable figures of the audience displayed in front of her beneath the spotlight. To her right sat the Host sporting a bemused smile that seemed to speak of some unknown knowledge only he possessed. But this time, Twilight knew better. The veil before her eyes was no longer present; she could see he was no mere construction of her anxiety. She could see the real him.

Baku.

Only now, with the surge of Luna’s guiding spell, could she see the threads of his creation. The light of her mind had finally illuminated the darkness that permeated the illusion, spun around like a web of Twilight’s very self. She could perceive the cracks, inconsistencies, and seams of his handiwork. The crowd were no more than painted dolls, the polish of their ‘skin’ as clear to her as the lights that stood above her head; they moved and clacked, and the noise of the wooden joints twisting and turning, a thin threaded line of black sludge could be seen beneath their seats like wires flowing in great strands to their source, Baku. These were not mere puppets; everything within the hall was nothing but a twisted aspect of himself.

He had imprisoned her in a cell within her own mind, a violation of her safety. The spark of rage threatened to bubble up, but she suppressed it. His voice cut through her emotions, his words mocking her.

“Earth to Princess Twilight? Anypony home?” The audience laughed, and she forced a politician's smile. She tilted her head, a gesture Rarity had taught her when dealing with particularly difficult customers.

“Sorry.” She shot the crowd her best politician smile, a facade of calm hiding her inner turmoil. She tilted her head as Rarity taught her how to act around audiences. “I got lost in my thoughts. I do that from time to time.”

“Care to share?” the Host asked.

“I would not,” Twilight shot back but did not let her smile falter as she stared her interviewer in the eyes. She hoped that being a creature of dreams meant he was not the most socially conscious being, for if he could read her expression, he would almost see her say through her eyes alone, ‘I see you.’

“Oh, um, alright,” the Host said, clearly taken aback but quickly shifted back to his usual carefree self. “Now we are here to talk about this whole Legion of Doom. I mean to think that one of your friends released that lot. A friend you insisted had mended his ways. How can you live–”

Twilight cut him off. “You mean Discord? I live perfectly well with it.” His face twisted up into an incredulous scowl. He reflexively shuffled the papers in front of him.

“Really? Not even the slightest bit of questioning why you trusted a former tyrant as a friend? The same tyrant, through his arrogance, nearly doomed Equestria, not once but twice! It doesn’t scream reformed to me at all.”

“Discord, for all his faults, has tried to do good, and he has failed, time and time again.” She inhaled deeply. “But my friends and I forgave him nonetheless. Because ultimately, I believe he means well, and so does Fluttershy. More than anything, I trust her judgement about him above all others.” Now, it was her turn to lean over the desk in his direction.Twilight’s tone grew sharper as she continued, her eyes never leaving the Host’s. “But then again, what I think doesn’t matter. Does it?”

“Are you saying I don’t care?”

Twilight could not help but laugh. “I know you don’t care. Anypony so in love with the sound of their voice can’t even pretend to sound like they care.” She chuckled some more as his audience looked on bemusement. After all, this was not part of the script; how could a carefully crafted theatre menagerie deal with unforeseen events?

His eyes narrowed, the quickening tightness in his jaw, the bulge pulsating in his neck. Twilight had him, even if his evident anger did not reach that ever-upbeat voice. “Heh, bit of spice this one has.” He shot the audience a smile that spelt, ‘What can a stallion do?’ She did not relent.

“You don’t need to talk to them, you know.” His head spun around rapidly, his mouth agape in confusion at her words.

“Excuse me?”

Twilight shrugged. “It’s all a load of bull—the cameras, the lights.” Twilight inhaled before a growl escaped her lips. “You.”

“That’s very unprincess-like language,” Baku said, no longer giving the pretence of pleasantness in his tone to be replaced by a harsh rasp. The grey flicker of his eyes flashed a pitch black. “You trying to cause a scene?” Twilight leaned back in her chair. It did not feel so uncomfortable now. The lights, though, their glare still burned and blinded.

“Yes,” she started slowly. “I think I am.” Twilight’s horn brimmed with magic, and in an instant, before the shocked Host could say anymore, she let loose a piercing bolt. The audience cried out in terror and fled as they dodged from its path. Her spell slammed into the lights above, sending a wave of sparks as they exploded. They fell from their perched height onto the currently partially empty rafters and clashed with the cameras and other audio equipment, which let forth a harsh metallic shriek. “I really hated those lights.”

Baku threw himself from his seat. “Have you lost your mind?” He stared at the mess but stopped. Fear soon gripped him, and the magnitude of what Twilight had done became apparent. “You used magic.” As he spoke the words, the construct of the prison to which he entrapped bulged and creaked at the tremendous pressure applied to its extremities.

“You want to know what happened to the Legion of Doom?” Twilight declared. “I defeated them, just as I’ll defeat you.” Twilight called upon another spell; her horn cased in a brilliant purple hue that shimmered as bright as a star, dimming all other colours of the hall. Baku hissed and pressed his hoof against his eyes.

From behind it, his black visage watched powerlessly as the entire edifice of his creation collapsed around him. “I think we can cut this little interview short,” Twilight announced as she gathered the vortex of power around her and, with a mighty roar, let it flow outwards to the ceiling. Then, it crept vine-like into every seam of the room as it extinguished the black roots that held it together.

The space compressed inward and then shattered like a pane of glass. The feelings associated with her prison faded away as the entire front of it crumpled and shrivelled up and fell away. Each construct burned up in a steamy cloud of black smoke, and the inky strands of whatever web he conjured shrivelled and died. When the last remnants of his work had disappeared from her vision, she stood in an endless sky of lights dancing in a black ether.

He shrieked and threw his head back. A dark flame consumed his entire body, which melted his disguise away. His former equine skin pooled like melted rubber beneath his true form, now as clear to her as on the pages of Luna’s book.

He was a bipedal jackal-like creature with a shabby coat of grey and long ape-like limbs. Baku wasted no time in seeking to flee; only briefly did he look behind him to see if she was following, and the black coals of his eyes, even from a distance, burned with resentment for her. He roughly seized a stray orb near him; with a scowl, he dug his claws into it and, with a pulse of light, disappeared.

Twilight stood stunned for a moment, but as she grew used to her surroundings, she could sense that this was not a mere construct of her mind but her mind itself. Baku was moving through this expanse, trying to find a place to hide. A voice echoed a phantom disembodied thing calling out to her, something she could scarcely discern from her own or some external force. Yet the meaning of the words was clear to her.

Do not let him get away.

5. What's In Your Mind?

Twilight flew faster than she had ever in the waking world. Her wings strained as they propelled her forward. The distance she travelled in this reality was surreal. Instead of traversing space, she transitioned between interconnected areas, like rooms connected by a series of doors. These ‘exits’ constituted rolling lights bobbing and weaving in some unseen current, each light one amongst an ocean of similar orbs. If Twilight lost sight of him for long, he could soon submerge himself within these nearly infinite hiding spots. She touched another light and pushed through the doorway to another piece of her that she had seen Baku flee.

It took some time for Twilight’s eyes to clear, at which point the manifestation of her mind revealed itself. She gazed at an incredible sight, her mouth agape at the wonders before her.

She was in the centre of a labyrinthine structure. Shelves thirty feet high messily interlinked along narrow passageways, spiralling staircases, winding railings, and tall library ladders as far as she could see. Each shelf overflowed with books, and there was a constant churn of noise as they fell to the floor. Twilight instinctively found herself pulled to the nearest shelf.

Her eyes scanned the covers. They had various innocuous titles that, at first, Twilight thought nothing of, but as she took in each book, it became clear these were not mere mental manifestations of books but rather something more. Cleaning My Room, another A Day in the Park, School Day #453, and Spring Rain of the 15th Year.

Twilight removed a stray book from a shelf and opened it. With a flash, an image projected itself from the book's pages. It was a smaller version of herself before a blackboard dealing with an equation. The miniature figure carefully wrote out the answer. A smile of triumph passed on the astral lips, and then the memory faded away. She took another book; this time, it was younger Twilight holding an ice cream melting before the sun. When it vanished, her younger self burst into tears.

“These are my memories,” she exclaimed in shock. Much to her surprise, the shelf began to move of its own accord. She watched it roll away, following a procession of similar pieces, pulling randomly to and fro. She hesitantly followed. The spell within her chest hummed lightly, tasking her to follow. It was a mesmeric simultaneous movement of the brackets, all on tracks guided further into winding depositories of her memories collected over the years of her life.

With each step, this piece of her mind, a mingling of dreams and metaphysical representations of her brain grew more bizarre. The shelves decorated the sky, each shelf upon shelf, like tall buildings stacked upon each other, and those stacks had stacks, and they did collate together into massive spiralling shapes. Sometimes far off, she could even see what could only be moons of them orbiting one great library-covered planet. Before she considered the magnitude of what lay before her, Luna’s spell whispered to her more urgently. It had picked up his trail.

She took to the sky, finally ending her tour of the recesses of her thoughts. Twilight followed the steady beat of its directions; the frequency of the thumps grew as Baku neared. With the foresight it granted her, she could see the trails of black discharge that followed her quarry. Her alarm grew as she realised that this foul substance that emanated from her foe burned and caused damage to the surrounding volumes of memories. It disturbed her greatly to see Luna’s warning of the damage he could do to her manifest. To think he had resided for weeks in her dreams, if this was the havoc he wrought while still growing in strength, Twilight did not wish to see what would occur if she left him to his own devices.

The path she followed was straightforward enough, for he had burned through many surfaces, which left smouldering embers and ashes in abundance. Eventually, she came upon an opening where she found Baku furiously throwing himself around, not caring what he damaged or destroyed. She could hear his distressed muttering as she carefully closed the distance.

“Where’s the damn door?” He threw over several tall stacks of books. Twilight briefly considered how her magic would exactly affect Baku as she tentatively approached him. He was not of the natural world, and although she was not casting magic, Luna had assured her that dreams allowed a functionality reminiscent of the waking world. So, even if her magic was technically nothing more than a manifestation of the willpower of her mind, she fully believed that it would be unpleasant for Baku. She steeled herself once more as she took the plunge.

Her blast of magic was simple but effective. It sent shockwaves as shelves collapsed and violently spun away. Baku flew backwards, slamming hard into a ladder, which sent splinters flying off in all directions. He reared his head and spat as he clambered to his feet.

“Careful now, Princess,” he growled. “Wouldn’t want to damage your mind. Who knows what you could lose playing hero?”

“It will be worth it if I am rid of you,” Twilight said coldly. Baku smiled widely, rolled his shoulders, and flexed his arms.

“If that’s how it has to be.”

His strikes were so fast that she nearly got caught square in the chest; only the foresight granted by Luna saved her from impalement. She strained as her shield held against the smoky black tendril; a second slammed in from another direction, and a third whipped viciously against the top of the barrier above her head. As the shield weakened, she blinked away just above him; he spun around and, with surprising strength, flung a small, wheeled cart at her. Twilight yelped as she barely dodged in time. Soon, a dozen books followed, which pelted against her side. A thousand tendrils acted as throwing implements, launching said tomes in waves like stones.

Twilight drew one of the taller shelves towards her; it wobbled under her magic before, with a thunderous boom, it toppled over. Baku quickly abandoned his assault against Twilight to hold it off but failed as it buried him. After some time, a dishevelled Baku crawled out from the debris, cursing loudly.

“Not bad, but I can play dirty, too,” he snarled. He snapped the digits of his paws, and a black flame emanated from them. Twilight watched in horror as he spewed fire to the memories around them—the memories, all innocuous and small things and everyday actions, warped as they burned.

Twilight cried out and landed, desperately attempting to snuff the ever-growing blaze that consumed aspects of herself. She went from book to book, collecting them in her grip; a frenzy of anxiety overwhelmed all her thoughts and directed her to save as many as she could, even as they burned and fizzled into ash.

Baku snorted, then mockingly saluted and sprinted off again. It took several moments and the deployment of a blanketing freezing spell to douse the flames. Twilight looked around at the destruction.

These were parts of her, some damaged, others unsalvageable. Perhaps not vital to her, but a part of her nonetheless. She cuddled an ash-stained book against her chest. A fierce wave of anger flowed through her. He came into her thoughts, the one place she could safely retreat into from the struggles and pressures of her daily life.

He had violated her.

Twilight picked up the trail with renewed speed. According to Luna's spell, Baku had backtracked and stopped. ‘The door,’ she thought. He was trying to lose her by moving to another place in her mind through some hidden entryway buried in her memories. Perhaps this was one of those deeper levels Luna warned her about where he could hide in the shadows. She did not bother with the element of surprise this time. So quickly had she thrown herself toward him that she did not even have time to summon her magic.

Baku stood before a regular-looking door, studying its surface. Twilight barrelled at him, fully expecting to slam into him. But instead, as she closed in, there was no physical clash; she phased through the spot where he had been, her hooves grasping at shadows. She painfully bounced off a wooden surface and dizzily stumbled to the floor.

He had descended into the floor like a puddle before rising a few feet to her left, a shadow-given shape. She felt her cheek sting as she stumbled back from his furious backhand.

If she could manifest magic that hurt him, his physical strikes could do likewise to her. If she weren’t in pain, she might have considered the metaphysical implications of violence enacted in the dream world as having a causative effect on the dreamer.

“You’re just a child!” he roared. “You ain’t got anything! You're still thinking like a waker!”

Twilight had a brief moment of clarity and, through that, did something. It had been a fleeting feeling, but the result was that the world lurched, and Baku fell downward as if she had willed it to change in her moment of desperation. She didn’t consider this for long as she fell after him.

With her magic, she took apart the shelves around her and bent several beams around him. With expert precision, each piece was disassembled into a functional component of a makeshift prison.

Baku stared in shock, struggling against the bonds that entrapped him, looking down at the changed scenery. Though whatever surprise had shaken him soon departed, through yellow teeth, he bore her another foul-looking smile.

“Perhaps you aren’t so lost after all. It's too late to learn on the job, though.”

With a flick of his wrist, the beams turned into water and splashed harmlessly against the floor. Twilight stared up; the shelves remained as they were, and only a few stray books fell to this new ground. He separated his palms, and the world around them lurched once more. All of Twilight’s thoughts were displaced, and her concentration was severed.

The works she had summoned fell uselessly into what now constituted the sky. Her disorientation further allowed Baku, unhindered, to shape his surroundings as he would. The shelves, which had run so neatly on tracks and in great winding lines like a labyrinth, now bent like trees before a great wind, extending outward to the side of the world. Twilight blinked as she saw other stacks above them follow suit; before she could consider more, Baku leapt onto one of these outstretched branches with surprising athleticism. Up he hopped from one to another ever upward, toward what had once been the original ground of the great library before she had shifted it.

‘He’s trying to escape again,’ Twilight thought. Despite how much the world had changed during their fight, the door that acted as the portal to leave her memory remained unaltered.

She quickly regained her footing to pursue, though as soon as he departed one of the platforms, they cascaded downward, falling dangerous obstacles weighing many tons, falling like rocks from the mountain face. She veered and zipped, and her clumsy manoeuvring slowed her to a crawl.

She had only got away from one falling platform before another slammed into her, threatening to squash her between them. Her leg caught in a stray piece, descending with the falling debris. She tried to resist panicking and ignore the pain of the hit. She visualised herself away from the centre, her leg free. It felt like breaching water, but when she opened her eyes, she was above the falling platforms, watching as they collapsed against the nothing of the abyss. Twilight shook herself from her sudden pause just in time to catch Baku grasp the door handle. It was a golden orb that shimmered like a star between black-stained fingers; smoke sizzled off his skin, masking him a horrid mix of black, yellow and red, the shape of demon-made apparent.

He waved mockingly and then, as before, disappeared in a blink of light. The door opened to nothingness, and through it, Twilight tumbled into the abyss after him as a falling moon of books from above crashed down all around her.

The fall was quite sudden. She did not even see the water, only the noise of the splash as she sank beneath the surface.

Twilight panickedly tried to swim, her hooves hitting out with the clumsiness of a young foal. Just above her, the surface enticingly lingered. She broke through after what seemed to be an eternity.

She was not too far from the shallows of a nearby black sand shore. She pushed herself to reach it, sputtering as she coughed up excess water. Eventually, her hooves found solid ground. She rested her head amongst the small shallows of the incoming water, relief palpable as the last of the seawater exited her lungs. She coughed heavily again and winced as her wing stung from the tumble. The sun's warm embrace warmed her and lured Twilight to rest for a moment, though she recognised it as a fleeting feeling. She could not stop. Not while Baku still roamed.

Gingerly, she lifted her head, weary eyes looking around. Only then did she gasp in surprise at the recognition of the place before her. The building ahead of the sandy dunes was unmistakable. Nestled between the summer trees sat her old summer house.

But it was all there. The curved, moon-shaped beach covered the extent of the beach, with old steps leading up to the bazaar that overlooked the beach, where her parents would buy her ice cream when she was good. Sometimes, she would save enough bits to ride on the moving plane outside the shop doors. To the right of that were the sandy dunes, which she played hide and seek with Shining. And there, in a clearing between the dunes, lay the summerhouse itself.

She hadn’t been here since she was a young mare about ten years previous. Untouched by time. Of course, she knew that this was a dream; there was no possibility of this place existing as it had before. The area had long ago been converted into a major hotel resort following a redevelopment plan drawn up by some wealthy Canterlot noble.

That old bungalow held many happy memories, memories of long days under the stars, daily visits to the beach and swimming in the almost magical water; there never seemed to be a cloudy day there. Twilight knew Baku still resided somewhere amongst the pathways of long-forgotten memories, but she found herself temporarily spellbound. She reached the wooden stairway up to the porch; the front door was open, and she entered.

Yet the room did not hold to the same as her memory outside. In here lay not the front room of her former holiday home but rather the wooden interior of the library of Ponyville. The shelves were full of books, surrounded by a circular foyer and sitting area. Twilight shook her head in disbelief. The whole sitting room was as she had left it on the day of her confrontation with Tirek.

Even the stray coffee mug she had left on the living room table, which she had never gotten a chance to put away. Documents and books about Tartarus and Equestria history littered the nearby couches and dining room table. Somehow, her mind had melded everything she considered home into one place.

Twilight could not help but slowly trot around what was once her home. She felt an irresistible urge to take in every detail of the place where her formative years as a hero of Equestria had occurred. A surreal feeling swept her, a nostalgia with a hint of bitterness. She missed the cosy comfort of the wooden aesthetic but, more than that, what the space represented. Things used to be so simple when she was just a librarian.

She found herself before the stairs up to her room's landing. Baku, temporarily forgotten, she ascended the steps, the slight creak of each step going by, each creak as she remembered it. She found a completely different area, though the hall seemed to have a dark blue aesthetic similar to that of her family home. She opened a room to the right. She glanced into a facsimile of her childhood bedroom. Posters about Celestia and Starswirl adorned the walls. Books took up much of the drawers that should have held clothes. Her tiny bed pushed against the window, with its purple-adorned sheets.

Twilight stepped away from her room and let the door close; there was a warmth on her face; she had not realised when he had started crying. She was not entirely sure why she was sad at all. But seeing the room not how it was in the present but as it was when she had left it before moving into Canterlot Castle had stirred something within her. She suddenly wanted to go. She turned to head down the stairs, only for the stairs and other rooms to disappear. The only route out lay in another door before her. With no other option, she pressed through.

The room was another one of hers, a more immediately familiar place. The great hourglass that held the centre of the room was an old gift from Saddle Arabia, the spiral staircase that led to the Canterlot Castle observatory where she spent countless hours beneath the stars, and the bookshelves twice as tall as herself that were her constant companion.

The observatory window looked out not to the green gardens of Canterlot Castle but to the same beach of the summer house. In the distance, a great wave, a hundred feet tall, blocked out the horizon, crawling ever forward.

Her withers were up on end; an inescapable terror had seized her, rendering her in a state of agitated paralysis. She felt sweat bead on her forehead. The wave blotted out the sun; the strident warmth of her childhood vacation vanished, only the chill of the coming doom.

“Some view, eh?” a sinister voice said behind her. She spun around as she slammed into a nearby bookshelf, the tall fixture collapsing against the floor, rocking Twilight's head violently. She lifted the bookcase with difficulty, shooting a snarl at her attacker. Baku laughed as he took in the oncoming wave. He chuckled again. The wave rolled onward. It would soon hit the shore.

“You’re pretty messed up, Princess. Even here, of all places, you can’t shake the truth of what you are. A mare out of her depth.”

Twilight launched a bolt at Baku, which he easily evaded. He spun as Twilight sent the bookcase flying toward him. It shattered the glass of the window, sending shards across the room. He slammed his paws against the floor, and a trail of black smoke eased up through it and swirled beneath Twilight; the floor collapsed, sending her back down to the library below. She twisted at the last second to avoid a rough landing. She barely caught her breath before she swerved black pikes, which pierced through the open hole where she had just a few moments earlier.

Twilight sliced through his attack with a flurry of her magic. She sent a concentrated spiralling magical sphere at Baku, who crossed his arms to deflect the blow as it harmlessly washed over him. The house shook as the explosive force of the spell exited outward. The very dream itself appeared to shake violently as their destructive duel reached a crescendo. Regular household items phased in and out. Things that had fallen returned to place only to fall again. The walls shifted from transparent to clear to solid. The furniture began to melt and drip along the floor. Even the world's colours flashed in different saturations before their very eyes. If this continued much longer, they would have collapsed the dream, and Baku would escape again.

Twilight launched upwards, a protective shield in place; she flew through the hole. Baku seemed taken aback; She used the momentary shock to roughly grab him with her magic and pin him to the roof. Nonetheless, it was not intricate or particularly effective. Baku snapped his fingers, and the world spun. Soon, she was not upside down but rather on the ceiling.

Twilight tumbled again, and Baku used this to free himself. His tendrils were like snapping vipers crashing at speed so quickly she had little time to think. One tore through into the adjoining room, her current Canterlot bedroom. The assault destroyed the fireplace.

She rolled and avoided another projectile ripped into the stone motor. The terror vines he produced whipped at her incessantly. A counterspell threw Baku into the bookcase, and a few books caught flame. He sneered and, with a gust of breath, drew the nascent fire back towards. It collided against her shield. She watched as the flames blew over it. Baku clapped his hand, and a concussive blast knocked her to the floor, shattering her shield. The fire had consumed much of the wall behind him, illuminating the demon hellishly. He growled, raising his paw to call down another strike. Twilight flailed briefly, then she considered that this was a dream, and, like any dream, she could manipulate the fabric of it. The building flipped sprawling Baku to the collapsed ceiling. She inhaled, the building turned again, and Baku returned to the ground floor, this time the flaming debris kicked up by her actions. Baku howled in anger as the rags of his coat set alight.

Twilight prepared to seize him but stopped in place as the room darkened. Baku managed a grim smile, his fangs on full display. The walls began to shake. Twilight spun around at the sound of a great rumble. Baku’s words were like a whisper into her thoughts, clear as crystal.

“Better luck next time, Princess.”

The wave crashed through the open window, sweeping them all away, and all was dark.

6. The Trial

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.

7. Epilogue

When Twilight’s eyes opened, her room was still dark. Slowly, she raised herself from the bed, pushing aside the blankets. She noticed Luna seated on a pillow opposite the bed, her head held high but her eyes shut; Spike was sprawled on a nearby cushion. As Twilight shuffled some more, Luna’s eyes snapped open. She then smiled deeply.

“I knew you could do it.”

“He’s gone,” Twilight said quietly. She gripped the blankets tightly. “For good, I think.”

“If I may be so bold to ask how?”

“Into my subconscious,” Twilight murmured. “That’s what he said—something about a maze and being lost forever. I didn’t think about it; I just had to act.” She squinted as she tried to recall the hazy memories. Luna’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Ah, yes, quite brilliant. The subconscious lacks all active thought; it is the deconstruction of the mind and, thus, the most dangerous place for a dreamer to wander. Even I would never deign to roam such places. Without coherent dreams to feed off, he will starve and eventually be subsumed into nothingness.” Twilight grimaced at the morbid thought.

“That sounds horrible.”

“Do not waste your pity on him, Twilight. Such a creature feels only for the misery and pain he causes others. He would have caused untold damage to Equestria if you had not stopped him.” Luna sighed happily, like a great weight lifted from her. She stood and studied Twilight. “You continue to exceed all my expectations.”

Twilight moved to speak more but was thwarted by the onset rush of light-headedness. She felt herself lurch forward, only to find herself caught in strong hooves just before she crashed against the bedsheets. Luna had moved with impressive speed to aid her friend. The sudden noise and commotion stirred Spike from his slumber. He shot up from his sleeping place, wide-eyed and sprinted towards the now limp Twilight.

“Twilight!” he gasped and stopped just before the bed. He clambered atop it and gripped Twilight’s hoof. Spike looked at Luna. “What happened? Is she okay? Did she defeat Baku? She’s not a zombie, is she?” Spike continued to babble until Luna motioned for him to stop.

“She is well and victorious, Spike, just exhausted,” Luna explained. “The dreamscape is not akin to reality, but its exertions are very real. To put it in modern terms, Twilight has gone twelve rounds.” Luna continued to hold Twilight close as the mare feebly wavered in and out of consciousness; the strength of her limbs had abandoned her.

“I just need a moment,” she whispered.

“You need rest,” Luna said. “Proper rest.” Before Twilight could protest any more, Luna whispered something in her ear. The effect was sudden, and Twilight's head dropped, and her eyes closed. Spike looked on bewildered. Luna shot him a wry smile. “A sleeping spell, just something to give her a few more hours rest.” The soft intake and exhale of Twilight’s breath could soon be heard. Luna gently guided her head back against her pillow. She pulled up the sheets, tucking the younger mare in.

“She’s going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Luna answered. “She has done marvellously. I shall make a dream weaver of her yet. But that is for another day’s labour. For now, she deserves the fruits of her victory. A day off would be an ample reward for an overly vexed princess.”

“But the sun needs to be raised? And what about court?”

“I will write to my sister.” Luna raised herself from the bed. She stretched her legs and shook her wings. “She shall raise the sun.” She let forth a hearty laugh. “We are still of some use to the realm. We are retired, not dead. As for the nobles, I am sure a clever young dragon can whip up some excuse to ensure her schedule is clear.” Luna motioned for Spike to follow her. The young drake smiled a toothy grin. He hopped down off the bed and scrambled towards the door.

“You’ve got it, Luna!” he chirped happily.

“Come, let us leave her be. There is much work to be done.”

As Luna exited, she could only look down on her sister’s former charge and watched in contentment as a small smile formed upon Twilight’s lips; the mare did not stir, and all signs of worry, exertion and struggle were absent. Instead, she almost seemed to shine with newfound ease. Luna sighed happily and closed the door, leaving the Princess to her well-deserved rest for the first time in what seemed like an age, and no nightmares troubled the newer princess for many nights after.

Author's Note

Well, there it is. Funnily enough, the original draft was significantly longer, at about 25k words. I cut it down because I felt the story was going to drag. I hope the result hasn't been too harsh on the pacing. I hope people enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.