In Dreams

Twilight collapsed onto her bed with a groan, struggling to keep her traitorous eyelids from closing of their own accord right then and there. Her coat was dirty and damp with sweat, and her mane hung in a limp, lifeless tangle across her pillow . The unicorn severely doubted she even had the energy to stand, let alone get herself to the shower, so she settled instead for an exhausted sigh.

Mental note: when Applejack asks you for help with a ‘few quick chores around the farm’, make sure you know what in the name of Celestia you’re getting yourself into. She rolled over onto her front, wincing at the chorus of sharp pops as her her vertebrae shifted back into place. ‘Magic spoils the Zap-Apple crop’, my hoof, she thought, rolling into a position that would better soothe her sorely aching muscles. Within seconds, Twilight felt a fuzzy warmth begin to spread through her body, and barely a minute of slow, gentle breathing later, she was sound asleep.

With an indecipherable cacophony of thousands of overlapping sounds, Twilight burst back into the Dreamscape, eyes wide and mind spinning at the infinite vortex of thoughts and emotions. The colors swirled around her, bringing with them tiny snippets of thousands of sleeping ponies’ fears and desires, and she squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth and waiting for the mental assault to subside.

The time that passed could have been a matter of seconds or a matter of centuries, but eventually, Twilight felt the chaos around her begin to shift, rippling and warping into a more comprehensible form. She felt her hooves touch something soft, just as they had the night before, but this time, there was a strange, feathery gentleness to it, a sensation that had been absent the night before.

Twilight opened her eyes, and they quickly grew large in an expression of pure wonderment.

She was standing on the crest of a gently rolling hill, looking up at an infinite ceiling of shining stars and dusky sky. The moon was there too, a gleaming milk-white pearl watching elegantly over her domain and basking the grass under her hooves in a muted silver glow. The stalks seemed to stretch on forever, waving lazily in an unseen wind and continuing past the horizon.

Twilight may very well have stayed standing on that hill forever had she not been distracted by a sudden disturbance in front of her. It was as if someone had spilled an inkwell onto the air itself, throwing a steadily spreading blotch of darkness across the empty space. As she watched, the shadows began to coalesce into a familiar, alicorn-shaped figure. A few moments later, Princess Luna stood before her, mane billowing in the same insubstantial wind as the grass. In the ghostly half-light of the moon, she managed to look even more mysterious and imposing than she had the night before, and Twilight felt her coat prickle as a wave of goosebumps rolled down her spine. That same sensation of shivery, electric awareness she had felt before had returned in force, bringing with it a slight quickening of breath and the heady thrum of blood in her veins. She felt relaxed, almost sleepily so, but also intensely conscious of every rippling blade of grass, every gleaming star, and every slight motion the mare in front of her made. It was an odd feeling, though not an entirely unpleasant one.

“Good evening, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, a faint smile tracing across her lips as she saw the unicorn’s awestruck expression. “I assume you find our new training accommodations satisfactory?”

“Luna... this... this is amazing,” Twilight breathed, staring up at the sky. Something in the pattern of the stars looked familiar, and she started slightly as she realized she could recognize the constellations. There was the Big Horseshoe, the Wilting Tree, Ursa, the Great Square of Pegasus, and too many others to count.

Well of course the constellations are going to be accurate, she thought, mentally giving herself a light smack on the back of the head. I mean, she is the Princess of the Night, after all. She probably knows more about the stars than anypony else, not to mention the fact—

“So, then. Shall we begin?”

Luna’s question snapped Twilight back to the present, and she nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, of course!”

The alicorn’s smile grew. “I am glad to see you are as eager to learn as ever, Twilight.” She cleared her throat softly before continuing. “Now, for our first lesson, I thought we would begin with a small refresher. Could you please recite the three fundamental laws of magic?”

Twilight nodded again and began to recite from memory:

“The first law of magic, known as the Law of Distribution, states that there is a theoretically infinite amount of latent magic distributed throughout the universe’s ley-line network. Although we know the universe is constantly expanding, and by extension, the ley-lines, the base amount of magical energy doesn't change. It's just evenly redistributed.” She took a deep breath, glancing quickly at Luna for any sign of approval. The alicorn’s face remained relatively impassive, and Twilight mentally shook herself before continuing. You’re fine, Twilight. You’ve spent Celestia-only-knows how long memorizing these laws, after all. Just focus on the recitation.

“The second law, known as the Law of Conduction, states that any vessel capable of storing or transferring arcane energy has an upper limit of what it can conduct, known as its ‘Spark Threshold’ as a tribute to its inventor, Bright Spark. If the vessel’s Spark Threshold is exceeded, the magic will overload and react violently with whatever terrestrial matter the vessel contains. In unicorns, this is commonly known as a ‘burnout’, and is usually characterized by a sudden, violent eruption of magical energy from the horn, followed by blackening of the horntip, severe nausea, and exhaustion.” Twilight paused, smiling ruefully as a sudden memory occurred to her. “I’ve had more than a few experiences with that particular one.”

“Oh?” Luna replied, raising her eyebrows. “In all honesty, I cannot say I am surprised, but I would think you of all ponies would understand your magical limits.”

“Oh, I do. Well, mostly,” Twilight said, looking slightly sheepish. “But I did want to conduct some additional research on the possibility of expanding my Spark Threshold, and, well... you can probably guess what happened from there.”

Luna laughed softly. “I should have guessed. In any case, please continue.”

“Right. The third law of magic is the Law of Conservation, which actually states two things. Firstly, that magic, like any other form of energy, cannot be created or destroyed, and in this case, can’t change state either. It just relocates. Secondly, whenever any amount of magic is forced into a vessel, it will always take the path of least resistance, or the highest amount of conductivity. Unicorn horns contain a unique protein that has a relatively high Spark Threshold, which is why our magic leaves us through our horns,” Twilight finished, her ears flicking up in pride. Despite the fact that she hadn’t so much as mentioned them for several years, she had still managed to recite all three laws perfectly, and while asleep to boot.

“Impressive, Twilight Sparkle,” said Luna, her mouth curling in a vaguely amused expression. “Of course, you being, well, yourself, it would be foolish to assume that you would forget such basic and fundamental aspects of magical study.”

Twilight felt her heart give another unexpected jump at the praise, as if a hungry rabbit had suddenly been set loose inside her chest. She fought the sensation down, irritated with her body’s insistent efforts to distract her from the task at hand. This doesn’t even make sense, she thought, seething inwardly even as Luna continued to speak. If anything, my subconscious should be less affected by physical sensations, not more. And what’s wrong with me, anyway? Every time she says anything it’s like my entire system forgets what’s supposed to do for a second. I wonder if it’s possible to develop a neurological disorder in a drea—

“A pity we will have no need of them.”

So absorbed was Twilight in her own thoughts that it took her a second to process what the princess had said, and another to formulate a reply.

“Er, what?” Surely Luna hadn’t just said what Twilight thought she had heard. Not needingthe basic, fundamental concepts of magic while learning magic itself... the princess might as well have suggested they had no need for gravity.

“As much as I admire your memory and knowledge of terrestrial laws, the magic in the Sunset Realms works by a vastly different set of rules. Well, I suppose calling them ‘rules’ is rather generous,” Luna said, her amused smile growing wider. “In all honesty, they are closer to suggestions.”

Twilight took a series of deep breaths, letting the realization that absolutely none of her previous training would be useful sink into her mind like a frozen spike. “All... all right,” she said shakily, the silvery grass underneath her hooves suddenly feeling much less stable than it had a moment ago. “What was the point of me reciting them then?”

“I was merely curious. While the laws themselves may not apply, a healthy knowledge of magic is nevertheless a trait to be admired. Now, to begin.” She stepped back, and the air in front of her began to twist and ripple, eventually forming into a greyish, solid-looking mass: a large boulder, almost comical in its mundanity. Twilight ran an experimental hoof over it, eyebrows arching slightly as she felt the smooth, hard surface. The boulder remained inanimate. She frowned.

“Er, Princess—” Twilight’s confused query was silenced by the other mare’s gently outstretched hoof.

“Please, call me Luna. By now, I would say we have transcended the simple relationship between ruler and subject, hm?” She spoke with a smile, but the words seemed careful. Measured. “And, if you will forgive me for anticipating your question, the object of your first lesson is to make this” —she gestured to the boulder— “disappear.”

Twilight nodded quickly, fighting down that strange stomach-jumping sensation and the blush that was rapidly spreading across her cheeks. “Oh. O-of course.” By Celestia, this was irritating! She made a mental note to do some additional research on the Dreamscape and the possibility of mental trauma when she was awake before remembering her question. “Anyway, Pri— um, Luna... isn’t this a little... abrupt? I mean, isn’t there some theory we should learn first? Some fundamental concepts? Anything?” The question was tinged with desperation. Is this really how I’m supposed to learn? Just jumping right into it?

Luna looked bemused for a moment, then nodded slowly her smile growing. “Old habits die hard, I see. I suppose a small amount of lecture would not hurt, although you will soon see why I planned the lesson as I did.” She cleared her throat, then leapt atop the boulder as if it were a stage. Twilight almost giggled at the unexpected display of childlike energy, but the urge quickly faded as Luna began to speak.

“The most powerful and important force in the Sunset Realms is not magic, as many would assume. Nor is it mental fortitude or acuity, though they certainly have their uses both in the Dreamscape and out. No, the most influential power a Duskwalker can have at their command...” She paused, her eyes sparkling in the starlight with that same strange energy, an enthusiasm somehow both ancient and young. “...is belief.”

Twilight raised an incredulous eyebrow, but before she had a chance to voice her confusion, Luna had already continued. “Yes, Twilight Sparkle. Is it really so surprising? The Dreamscape is not a realm of absolutes or fundamentals. It is a realm of possibilities, ever-changing and ever-shifting. The more conviction you have in your power and intent, the greater the likelihood that it will become reality. Even the dullest of minds can still become great Duskwalkers, simply because the strength of their belief outweighs their lack of skill. But you...” She looked at Twilight, and the unicorn swallowed as the now-familiar shivery sensation repeated itself across her body. She was blushing again, she could feel it, and with it came yet another stab of irritation. Focus, she thought. Just ignore the way she looks at you, like you’re the most amazing powerful pony to ever exist, and she—

“Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight blinked in shock as she realized she hadn’t been paying any attention to what Luna had been saying for at least several seconds. “Uh, yes! I-I mean, I think I understand,” she stammered, her cheeks growing infuriatingly hotter as she attempted to hide her gaffe. “So, all I need to do make the boulder disappear is believe that it’s not there?” There was still a small amount of skepticism in the question, but Luna appeared not to notice neither it nor Twilight’s steadily increasing levels of embarrassment.

“Precisely,” the alicorn said, nodding in approval. She stepped off the boulder, backing away several feet before motioning to Twilight with a forehoof. “Now, unless there are any other burning theoretical questions...” She smiled teasingly. “May I suggest we begin?”

Twilight nodded in return, setting her jaw and focusing her gaze on the mass of grey before her. She closed her eyes, imagining the air around the boulder rippling, shifting, then finally pulling inward to consume it. The image was clear in her mind: a hilltop of rippling, silvery grass, swaying softly in the invisible breeze and utterly devoid of anything but the alicorn mare standing beside it. Everything was realized in crystal clarity: the movement of the stalks, the muted, dusky blue of Luna’s coat, the way her lips curled in that playful, teasing smirk and her eyes shone in the starlight...

Twilight opened her eyes.

The boulder remained.

The unicorn sighed, prodding the stone with a forehoof as if the contact would force it to obey her. Unsurprisingly, it refused, and she felt a flicker of irritation before her attention was once again diverted to the Princess of the Night.

“An admirable attempt, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said reassuringly. “Do not be disheartened. To expect anypony, even one with your capacity, to master dreamcrafting on their very first attempt would be foolish. Try again whenever you are ready.”

And so she tried.

And tried.

And tried.

And tried again.

Seventeen failed attempts later, Twilight’s initial supply of enthusiasm was running dangerously low. Try as she might have, the boulder hadn’t so much as twitched in the indeterminate amount of time she had spent trying to unravel its existence. All right. Again, she thought, exhaling slowly through her nostrils and shooting a resentful glare at the offending rock. You can do this.

She closed her eyes for the umpteenth time and concentrated, imagining the boulder simply fading out of existence, slowly melting into nothingness as if it had never been there. When I open my eyes, the boulder will be gone, she thought, unconsciously gritting her teeth in exertion as she forced all other thoughts out of her mind. If it’s been done before by mages less powerful than I am, I’ll obviously be able to do it. That’s just simple logic. Now, when I count to three and open my eyes, it will be gone. One... two...

“Twilight.”

Twilight’s eyes flickered open again, and the spike of irritation returned. She had been so close! Why had Luna interrupted her?

“What?” she snapped, before realizing what she had said and throwing her forehooves over her mouth with a mortified squeak. “Er, I mean, sorry! What is it?” Fantastic job, Twilight, she thought, seething inwardly. Snapping at the immortal goddess who’s taking the time to personally tutor you. That’ll go over well.

Thankfully, Luna seemed not to take offense at the unicorn’s outburst. Her smile had returned, that same quiet, wandering expression of vague amusement, and Twilight felt her annoyance fade in the face of it. “You are rationalizing this far more than is necessary. I realize you are an extremely logical pony, but in the dreamscape, logic is unfortunately an enemy rather than an ally. Let your feelings guide you, not your mind.”

Twilight frowned. “How did you know I was rationalizing? You... you can’t read my mind or anything, can you?” she asked, her curiosity for the moment outweighing her self-frustration.

Luna shook her head. “I cannot. No, it was merely a lucky guess, albeit a fairly educated one. Typically, dream magic does not require the gritting of one’s teeth or the biting of one’s lip.” She placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Perhaps a short break would—”

“No! I can— I mean, no thank you,” Twilight said, shivering slightly from a combination of nerves and the tingles of electricity Luna’s touch was sending through her. “I think I get it now.” Now if only I could get why I turn into a shivering, quivering filly on her first day of magic kindergarten whenever she so much as looks at me. She sighed quietly, hoping that the princess couldn’t hear. Get a grip on yourself, Sparkle.

“As you wish,” replied Luna, withdrawing the hoof and stepping back towards the boulder. Twilight shook her head slightly, clearing away any lingering mental distractions before closing her eyes once more. This time, she let her mind drift, never focusing on any one thing for more than a matter of seconds. Don’t rationalize it. Just close your eyes and feel your way through. Whatever that means.

As Twilight sat there, feeling nothing but the faint tickle of grass against her fur and the almost-real sensation of the cool night air, her thoughts strayed to Luna. The alicorn’s image had crept into her mind unbidden, and now it seemed to stick, clinging to the edges of her mind’s eye with a strange, gentle insistence. Twilight imagined her standing there, just as she had before. Tall, proud, mane billowing behind her in some ancient, ethereal wind, with her soft, downy wings folded gently at her sides...

Twilight felt a flush spreading across her cheeks yet again, but she ignored it, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge any of the mismatched impulses her body was forcing upon her mind. She drew in a breath, letting her thoughts stray ever farther. She imagined the princess looking at her, her lips parted in that now-familiar half-smile, simultaneously regal and and oh-so-slightly mischievous. She saw that fire in her eyes, that burning, timeless energy that seemed to cross space and time and the depths of the universe itself to strike something hidden deep within her, something that pulsed in perfect cadence with the unsung rhythm of their shared glances and laughs and smiles. Every fiber of her being hummed, electric and alive, and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt at peace.

You can do this, she though, a smile playing across her face. You will do this. You’ll do it— she exhaled, etting the quiet energy in the air swirl around her and coil in her chest— because she believes in you.

Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes.

Luna’s stared back.

For a fraction of a moment, neither of them said a word, gazes locked across the still night air. Then, slowly, Twilight began to realize what was in front of her. Or rather, what wasn’t.

“I did it,” she breathed, the words rolling reverently off her tongue and dropping into the silence like stones disturbing the stillness of a pond. “I... I did it!” She spoke louder this time, her face flushed in a heady combination of victory and something else she had no words for, something that seemed to leap up into her throat as Luna nodded, smiling proudly with the light in her eyes burning bright in the glow of the stars.

“You most certainly did, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, stepping closer to the unicorn across the space where the boulder had once stood. “Do you realize...” she paused for a moment, looking contemplative, then continued: “I would not normally say this for fear of encouraging a student’s ego to foolhardy, perhaps even dangerous heights, but I know from firsthoof experience that you are a very humble pony. Therefore, I will say I am extraordinarily impressed by you completing in a single night a task that took even my most talented students a fortnight as a minimum. Dreamcrafting is no mean feat,” she said, gesturing to the empty patch of grass where the boulder had once stood. Twilight noticed that the stalks were perfectly upright again, swaying lazily in the nonexistent breeze just as they had before with no sign of being crushed or disheveled. It was as if the stone had not just been removed, but had never existed in the first place. “In truth, I was fully expecting you to be unsuccessful, and to spend the majority of the lesson discussing mental techniques and concentration. I underestimated you. Greatly, as a matter of fact.” Luna chuckled, hiding the gesture behind a forehoof in a way that made Twilight grin back almost without realizing it. “I hope not to make that same mistake again.”

Twilight nodded, letting Luna’s words slowly soak in like a cat basking in a shaft of midafternoon sunlight. Humble or not, she certainly had no problem with a bit of praise now and then. And if the pony doing it just happened to be her wise, mysterious and powerful new mentor, all the better.

Twilight’s smile grew. “Thank you, Luna,” she said, struggling to keep an almost Pinkie-like squeak of happiness from escaping the depths of her throat. “I... I couldn’t have done it without you.” The words were out before Twilight realized she had said them, and though they were certainly true, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit embarrassed as she recalled exactly how the alicorn had assisted her. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal, she thought, though the redness of her face spoke volumes to the contrary. You needed to get your mind off the boulder, and thinking of Luna just helped you... relax. I mean, she is your new mentor and everything. It makes sense that you would see her as a comfort figure, right?

“I appreciate the compliment,” replied Luna, her tone playful. “And I am certainly glad to hear that I am at least somewhat contributing. I would hate to be outclassed by a lump of dreamforged stone, as useful of a teaching tool as it may be.” Her eyes grew distant for a moment, staring out at something Twilight couldn’t see before settling back into focus a few moments later. “Alas, I am afraid tonight’s lesson must come to an end. The night grows old, and I must attend to my duties in the waking realms.”

“What... we’re finished? Already?” Twilight’s sensation of time in the dream-realm was hazy at best, but surely they hadn’t been there for that long.... “It all went so fast.”

The alicorn nodded, eyes twinkling. “There is an expression... time flies when you are having fun? I suppose that would be rather appropriate here.”

Twilight giggled, the combination of the modern phrase and the alicorn’s regal method of speech once again proving inexplicably amusing. “Definitely.” She looked around the field one last time, drinking in the sight of the endless, star-soaked sky. “Well, see you tomorrow night. Oh, and thank you again for... all of this. Really,” she said earnestly. “The chance to study an entire new school of magic... you have no idea how amazing this is.”

“You are quite welcome, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna replied, even as the world began to blur. “It is my pleasure.” She stepped back, the grass and sky collapsing inward around her like so many sheets of discarded paper, and though she couldn’t be sure in the slowly-unfolding chaos around them, Twilight could have sworn she saw her wink.

Twilight’s eyes had already opened before she was fully awake, and she rolled over in her bed, mumbling something indecipherable before squinting out at the sun outside her window. It was fairly early, around seven, and the unicorn felt a smile slowly creep across her face as she realized exactly what she was going to do with the remainder of her waking hours.

Twilight practically vaulted her way out of bed, noticing with a slight amount of surprise that Spike’s bed was empty. She realized she could smell the familiar, delicious aroma of freshly-baked bread from the stairs below and bounded down them, for the moment ignoring the state of her mane and tail (frizzy) and the amount of noise she was making (quite a bit). With a flicker of purple, the door swung open, and Twilight was greeted by a large plate overflowing with toast and jam, alfalfa, and fresh-fried hay-browns. She inhaled deeply, savoring the intermingling aromas, before her stomach reminded her very loudly and indignantly that it hadn’t consumed anything in the past nine hours.

“Whoa. Hungry, huh?” A voice sounded from the door of the library’s kitchen, and Twilight turned to see Spike, outfitted in an apron and comically large chef’s hat. The baby dragon was leaning against the kitchen wall, holding his claws behind his back in an expression of extreme self-satisfaction. He chuckled. “Good thing I got up early.”

Twilight tore her attention away from the mouthwatering spread of food in front of her long enough to envelope Spike in a tight, grateful hug. “Oh, thank you so much, Spike! You didn’t have to get up for me, really, but this is amazing of you.”

“Ah, it’s not that big of a deal,” said Spike, a blush forming underneath his scales as he extricated himself from the unicorn’s embrace. “You were up around this time yesterday, so I figured hey, better safe than sorry, right?”

Twilight nodded, giving Spike one last squeeze before turning her full attention to her plate, horn glowing as she reached for her fork. Just as the first bite was about to reach her mouth, however, a thought struck her.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you get me a copy of The Neurological and Cognitive Functions of Unicorns: A Comprehensive Study and When A Brain Breaks: Disorders of the Mind?” she asked, being careful to inject as little emotion into the question as possible.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Spike said, sounding slightly confused. “What for?”

Twilight shrugged. “Research project.” No use worrying him about something that might not even turn out to be a problem, she thought. Excessive blushing, goosebumps, sudden, temporary loss of verbal and higher mental functions... it doesn’t exactly sound too life-threatening, but you can never be too sure. Or maybe it’s a magical mutation. Those usually develop when you’re working with experimental rune dialects or uncharted ley-lines, but dream magic might be unstable enough...

“Oh, and Magical Mutations and Maladies too, please.”

“Sure thing, Twilight,” Spike replied, walking off in the direction of the library’s main room. “I’ll have ‘em in a second.”

As Spike busied himself with collecting Twilight’s requested books, the unicorn began to eat, resisting the urge to rub her hooves together in anticipation as she practically shoveled a helping of hay-browns into her mouth with her levitated fork. The food was delicious, but she wanted to reserve as much time as possible for research and data collection. Things like breakfast, necessary as they were, can and would be happily pushed to the wayside in favor of the pursuit of knowledge.

“Here you go, Twi— whoa!” Spike yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the stack of dusty, thickly-bound tomes he was carrying on the floor. He caught himself, depositing the books on the table next to Twilight with a thud, and motioned to her plate incredulously. “Jeez, Twilight. What’s the hurry?”

“Just hungry, I guess,” she replied, downing another heaping forkful of food before cracking open the topmost book with a creak of binding and a poof of dust. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Spike, but he might as well have been replying to the chair. Twilight was already utterly absorbed in the pages in front of her, eyes flicking deftly back and forth as she absent-mindedly chewed another bite of alfalfa. As she reached the end of the page, flipping it with her magic and dislodging another dust cloud, she allowed herself a smile.

Today was a Research Day. The best kind, even better than Experiment Days or Social Days, though they each had their merits. But the previous night had raised more questions than ever before, and awake or not, Twilight Sparkle was never a mare to be denied an answer.