By the time the last Changeling plane retreated from Vaverfront, and Soarin had taxied his plane to the hangar, Spitfire was already admitted to the infirmary. Commodore Soarin quickly reached his commanding officer, saluting Marshal Spitfire as she lay, bandaged, in a foreign bed.

"Soarin, it looks like you'll keep leading in my place for a while," said Spitfire.

"Was the crash that bad?" asked Soarin.

"Not quite," denied Spitfire, "My replacement plane won't be in for a week."

"It's about your plane?" wondered Soarin, "Couldn't you commandeer one of our lieutenants' planes?"

"I am the one who crashed," retorted Spitfire, "Why should I ground somepony else?"

"I-" Soarin's eyes wandered away from Spitfire, his voice barely audible as he saluted her again. "I'm sorry, Marshal."

"Soarin, cut the formalities," ordered Spitfire, "I have known you for thirty seven odd years. Because of that, I also know that you can fly without me. You were always better than me at flying with real wings, why do you still hold yourself back in a plane?"

Soarin snorted, "I'm not flying in, mane on fire, and getting myself killed."

"You know that isn't what I meant," pleaded Spitfire, but Soarin still refused to meet her gaze, he began to step away, but she called again, "You were supposed to be the gunner that day, not Fire Streak."

He paused, sighing. "I wish it were as simple as that, Spits," he said, "I already took out my anger when Fire Streak was maimed. It's the dogfights I'm scared of; I'm scared I'll like it, scared that my tallies will stop being the threats I've stopped, and start being the bugs I've squashed."

"Then why did you accept coming here, to Olenia?" wondered Spitfire.

"I did not want to wait for Equestria to be in her dying throes before fighting back," answered Soarin. He took a glance at Spitfire, and left.

The basement window didn't provide much of a view, hidden behind a row of flowering bushes. Fortunately, that also meant little of the inside was visible to any wandering Changelings. Now that the sun peered through the foliage and into the window, Velvet had a better view of the room she felt she may very well waste away in. The basement was built from stone, the walls somewhat jagged, but any sharp edges must have been well smoothed out. Around the room were cases and boxes littered with trinkets. If anything, Velvet found it mundane. She had heard much about the Changelings and their great, ominous hives, yet this was a simple house. Then it clicked that it was a Griffonian house, that Dytrisium was a trade harbor.

Still too weak to get up onto her four hooves, she rolled onto her other side, knocking about some straw. On the other side, Velvet lay just next to a bookshelf. She tried to take a book to read, but as soon as she could see the front cover, she felt rather foolish. The book was written in Herzlander. Sighing, she turned back over, only to be nearly given the strength to leap from the straw-covered ground as Chalcone had entered in silence.

He shook his head with a faint smile before saying, "I am sorry, you do not have much to do. Keratin is quite fond of chess, but once I'm back at sea, he'll be quite busy. As for getting you out of here, we could either risk smuggling you through Griffonia, or get you north to the neutral Polar Bear Communities."

"So, either getting sunk again, or crossing the whole country just to freeze," summarized Velvet. "Stealing a plane would require someone down here to pilot, as well as fighter cover."

"That might not be as difficult as it sounds," said Chalcone.

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Velvet.

"Well, I suppose you must not know already, but New Mareland's declared war," he revealed, "I expect if we can get word out through our underground networks, we could get a nice big screen of Skywinds."

'Of course,' thought Velvet, 'It was a New Mareland ship they destroyed.' "Well," she said, "Then how do we get a pilot?"

"Those logistics I am not in charge of," he answered, "I can pass off the plan, and they'll sort it out by the time you're healthy."

"Only one concern, then," noted Velvet, "Just where is an airfield?"

Chalcone chuckled, "Oh, it will be a dreadfully arduous journey, circumnavigating all the way around the hive. That's right, half a day's journey on hoof, a couple minutes if we can get a truck."

"Can we get a truck?" asked Velvet.

"No."

Princess Luna returned to her sister's dream the next night, yet something felt different. The eclipse had already begun, but the ring of fire around the moon flared so bright that the ocean was illuminated as if in twilight. She couldn't see her sister, couldn't sense her. It was as if she were in an empty dream, yet she knew that could not be.

She walked forwards. She did not know if she would find anything, but her mind screamed that something was wrong. She broke into a canter, then a full gallop. She did not stop, not in a minute, nor an hour, nor as she tired, all until the line of rock beneath her hooves grew brittle and snapped.

As her gait faltered, forehoof searching for purchase, Luna looked into the ocean. A column of bubbles settled on the surface, waves of heat following.

"Celestia!" she shouted, her voice pulling enough power to send ripples across all the ocean she could see. She wouldn't have been surprised if her body in the waking world had cried out the same. She leapt, wings flared until she pulled them close as she plunged into the water.

Luna had been to the icy Crystal Empire before, she had even been to the coldest mountain summit in Equus, but never had she felt a cold so great, so absolute, so burning. The ocean, as empty as the land, seeped into her fur and mane and feathers, washing away bits of her as the dimmest of lights peered through the abyss.

As she pushed herself deeper, the cold ended. It was not replaced with warmth, merely emptiness, until a great inferno surrounded her without portend. She realized she was no longer in water, instead immersed in a thick cloud of heat, its immense mass holding her in place. She looked up, a field of stars speckling over each and every corner. Somehow she knew this was the sun she stood on.

In front of her, a plume of plasma burst upwards and faded away, suddenly revealing her sister- no, Daybreaker. Luna could not feel Celestia in the alicorn that stood in front of her.

"Where is my sister!" pleaded Luna.

"I am… housekeeping while she accepts what has to be done to save our little ponies," said Daybreaker.

"And who will save them from you?" challenged Luna.

"The nightmare," offered a softer voice from the Mare of the Sun. Suddenly, Luna felt her sister in front of her again. She nearly trembled before a pressure took hold on her shoulder, and the sun burned away as her name was called.

"Princess Luna! Princess Luna! We heard you shouting," said Flash Sentry. Luna looked at him, brushing his hoof off her shoulder, before looking about her room. Sighing, she accepted that she had been forced awake, and professed to him,

"I was just… worried about my sister."

Knowing well that the Princess had dominion of dreams, Flash Sentry was doubtful it was that simple, but he kept his concern silent, nodding as he responded, "Princess Celestia is in her chambers, resting." Luna knew that already, Flash could tell.

Author's Note

Please don't try to deconstruct the symbolism, I never constructed it.