In a single whirling, noisome flurry, Twilight and her friends were swept to the sides of the crowd while Rainbow sped overhead, a stern, masculine voice commanding her down. She streaked past them to land outside the building on the other side of the street, and the crowd admitted a leaf-green unicorn. He pushed past Pinkie, and Rainbow turned.

“You won’t fool me, demon!”

“Hey!” Pinkie took off after him, and Twilight followed behind her. The unicorn, his horn alight and pointed at Rainbow, had her backed into a fence post.

“She’s not a demon,” Twilight said, approaching carefully. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Yeah, back off, you freak!” Rainbow spat. She spread her wings and tried to take a step toward him, but his horn flashed warningly, and she flinched back.

“All right, all right, let’s calm down here,” Applejack said, coming forward. “She’s with us, mister.”

The pony slowly dimmed his horn, but Rainbow didn’t move. “What were you doing in the window?” His voice was toughened with age, and ragged from his small exertion.

“Just watching,” Rainbow said. “I wanted to see the discorded pony.”

He paced between them. “I saw a shrouded face with moving lips. My first thought: a demon, casting a hex.”

“Do you encounter things like that often?” Octavia asked.

“Yes.” He sauntered back to the house. “Let me through.”

The crowd parted, and Rainbow flew behind him. “Hang on. You wanna tell us who you think you are?”

He whipped back around, his horn glowing again. “I have an exorcism to perform.”

“Put that thing away,” Applejack said.

He turned around with an annoyed grunt and marched to the front door. “We shall converse later tonight.”

The door slammed, and many of the ponies on the lawn remained looking at Rainbow. “I’m not a demon, okay?” Rainbow said.

“Let’s just get back to the ship,” Rarity said.

“Go ahead. I will wait here,” Octavia said.

“You sure?” Pinkie asked.

Octavia didn’t respond, and disappeared into the crowd. It was a moment before ponies started to look away from Rainbow, and the commotion from within the house resumed. They returned to the ship, reverent and awkward from the brief encounter. The unicorn’s powerful voice snapped from far behind, muffled into a mere suggestion through the house’s walls.

When the last traces of light had faded, Octavia called for them to come down from the ship. She stood alongside the unicorn, who still regarded them suspiciously as they gathered before him.

“To the Salt Block,” he said, his horn blinking. He waited for no response, instead turning sharply and trotting down the street, away from the house.

“So how’d the exorcism go? Did you get rid of the ghosts?” Pinkie asked.

“Spirit, not ghost. And no.” He shook his head. “We’ll talk about it inside. I want to see you all in the light.”

He led them down the street, around a bend and into a wide, downward-sloping road, a single, giant apple tree dominating from behind a circular fence in the middle. To one side was an even row of houses, and to the other was a post office, a cart repair store, and a saloon, unevenly spread out and away from each other like teeth in a gap-toothed smile. As they approached, a sheer edge of darkness manifested from behind the buildings, and when they reached the saloon doors, they could see a perilous edge just behind. Rarity paused to look around the corner, and the unicorn pushed the door open, plunging into the unaccustomed lantern light within. No electric lights decorated the Salt Block’s walls, just bracketed torches and dainty candles on each table.

He sat them down in a large booth to one side of the bar, underneath a tattered, oxidized road sign that hung from the wall. He looked at each of them, and they him. He was a lank, elderly unicorn with no mane over his wizened, green head, and searching, dark purple eyes. He wore a small necklace, a silver moon glinting from between tufts of short, green fur. He squinted slightly at Pinkie. “You resemble someone I know.”

“Oooh, neat! Who is it? Do I know her too?” Pinkie asked, getting up to lean over the table. “I’d love to meet her if I haven’t already! Where is she? Is she here? Can we meet her now? Can—”

“That’s enough.” He looked to the side to wave away a bartender. “Be still.”

“Who are you?” Twilight asked.

“Who are you?” His horn pulsed a single time, punctuating his question.

“Seriously? We’re the Elements of Harmony,” Rainbow said. “Ponies recognized us in Manehattan,” she mumbled to Fluttershy, who nodded.

“Forgive me,” the unicorn said. “I come from far away. I had no cause, up to now, to know any of you.”

“Just where is ‘far away’?” Rarity asked.

“I came here from Snowdrift.” He smiled faintly at their reactions. Since leaving Ponyville, they had mostly forgotten about the tiny, southern town. “I see you’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard a couple things,” Applejack said.

“I grew up there. My name is Green. Reverend Green.”

“Reverend?” Fluttershy repeated.

“He was performing an exorcism earlier,” Rarity said.

“So why did you want to talk to us?” Rainbow asked. “Wanna be extra sure I’m not a demon?”

“I am already sufficiently assured. What I want is your help.”

“With the exorcism?” Pinkie asked.

Green nodded.

“Why us?” Octavia asked.

Green lit his horn to a soft glow and let it slowly extinguish. “Miss Ringlet is a wealthy, young mare from Hoofington, known around here for her adventurous, kindhearted spirit. She is known to go into the wilderness from time to time, alone or with a friend. After her most recent venture, however, she started showing signs of unrest. Only a couple weeks ago did I truly become concerned.” He frowned and lowered his voice into a thoughtful, deliberate drone. “She was restless. What once caused her joy brought her only vexation. Some of the more pious ponies in town suspected a spiritual ailment.”

“And they called you,” Rainbow said.

“All the way from Snowdrift?” Fluttershy asked.

“I was already here,” Green said. “I was reluctant at first. A spiritual malignancy, in this backwater part of the country, is as unreliable an assessment as they come. But I agreed to meet her.” His horn pulsed once more, long and dim. “And yes, hers was an illness beyond the ordinary.”

“What was wrong?” Twilight asked.

“I determined that she was in the grip of a partial possession. Her spirit, once at rest, had somehow found itself squeezed into her body, displaced by that of another.” He looked at them all. “Her body was host to two souls.”

“How does that happen?” Applejack asked.

“I cannot say, but the second spirit is malevolent. I suspect demonic involvement.”

“Like mine,” Rainbow said.

“We get it, dear,” Rarity said.

“Hey, I have a right to be mad.”

“And I apologize, my sister. It was a response made in haste,” Reverend Green said. “I had come to this town in search of rest, and to find a way to Manehattan.”

“What’s in Manehattan?” Twilight asked.

“A very troubled young mare, and my dear friend. She needs a firm hoof to guide her back to the path of righteousness.”

“So you really are a reverend,” Applejack said.

“Of course.”

“Uh, that is, Ah don’t mean to offend ya. Ah just thought it might’ve been a nickname or somethin’.”

He smiled warmly. “I preach at Shade Chapel, in Snowdrift, six days a week. Rather, I did.”

“What denomination is that?” Twilight asked.

“Mid-Celestial.”

“So you believe Luna is the superior goddess,” Fluttershy said.

“That is why you kept invoking her name,” Octavia said, nodding.

“Only by the power of the night goddess can spirits be removed,” Reverend Green said.

“Then why do you need us? Just get her to do it for you,” Rainbow said.

“Faith without practice is as a wing with no feathers, my sister. My faith in the night goddess gives me strength, but I am still only one unicorn. The magic required to properly exorcise this spirit is beyond me.”

“What makes you think we can help?” Twilight asked. “We don’t know anything about spirits.”

“Miss Melody said the same thing. Fortunately, I need no complex spells from you; I need only your combined input. This,” he gently floated his pendant into view, “is my blessed talisman. Forged from holy metal beneath the mountains, and enchanted by the head of my order, I wear it always. It causes the spirit great pain, but is not enough to oust it.”

“So what do you need?” Pinkie asked.

“A potion is what I seek. A potion that, when drunk, will tighten the mind of Miss Ringlet, and squeeze her invader out.”

“Um… I wasn’t aware that something like that existed,” Twilight mumbled. She blushed slightly.

“You?” Rainbow said. “I thought you knew, like, everything.”

“I never learned beyond the basics of spirits. Princess Celestia had me focusing only on the tangible.”

“I have a set of instructions already, but they require multiple unicorns,” Reverend Green said.

“What do we need to do?” Rarity asked.

“I’ll lend you the book.” His horn glowed, throwing a slight glare into their eyes. “The page is already dog-eared.”

“And what are you gonna do?” Rainbow asked.

“I must work with Miss Ringlet and her family.” His pendant jostled against his chest. “I cannot drive the spirit out on my own, but I can weaken it.”

“First night in, an’ already caught up in some kinda mess,” Applejack mumbled.

“I do apologize for involving you. If it’s any consolation, I should need your help only for the potion. The procedure, I can handle myself.”

“You sure?” Pinkie asked. “We’d be happy to—”

“No. Our concern should be finding the Elements,” Octavia said. “Delays are not acceptable. Not with the progress Discord has made.”

“I don’t mean to delay you, I promise,” Reverend Green said. “You must understand that I reach out to you now out of desperation. No unicorn in this town has anywhere near the skill to produce the potion I require.”

“We’ll do it,” Rarity said.

Octavia glanced at her and rolled her eyes. “I do not suppose you have heard anything about a stray Element of Harmony near here, have you?”

“Um, there isn’t one,” Fluttershy said. “I already checked.”

“Oh?”

“Well, um, since Rarity’s horn is injured, and Pinkie always forgets, I figured I’d just do it. I’ve been checking every day we flew here.”

“Magically?” Reverend Green asked.

“Um…” Fluttershy blushed and turned her face away, draping her mane over one eye.

“Now that is interesting. I was not aware ponies outside of Snowdrift knew how to unlock their own magic.”

“Nopony recognizes the Elements of friggin’ Harmony, but they all act like it’s old news when they find out we’re magical,” Rainbow said. “What is it with this country?”

“Ponyville is far-removed from the majority of the world,” Octavia said.

“You hail from Ponyville? Quite the distance,” Reverend Green said. He stood up and stretched, a sequence of arthritic cracks coming from his legs. “The hour grows late, my sisters. If you need lodging, I know a family who will happily lend you their barn for the night.”

“We’ll just sleep on the ship, thanks,” Twilight said. “Um, the book?”

“I’ll float it over your guardrails tonight. I must first get it from my quarters.” He looked at them one last time, pulsed his horn, and left with a quick, curt nod.

When he was gone, Rarity went to a nearby window. “I have to see something.” She wiped a hoof across the grimy glass and looked down. She couldn’t see much, but the area beneath was dark and deep, and spanned several feet before being cut off with the milder brown of a starlit earth. A small row of trees waited on the other edge.

“So we’re hanging off,” Pinkie said. She giggled. “Neat!”

“Not particularly,” Rarity said weakly, turning from the window. “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked into the cool, empty night, and back to the ship. Everyone got comfortable, some in the bedrooms belowdecks, but Twilight stayed above with a quill and parchment. She wanted to write a letter to Trixie.

The following day was clear and bright, the wide, dusty main road bustling with ponies, most of them farmers. Reverend Green had failed to deliver the book, and they ate a scant breakfast while Twilight read Trixie’s response, which had woken her up at five in the morning. She and her agent, Globe Trotter, were still in Fillydelphia, waiting for clearance to leave; since Mayor Splotch had been released from Discord’s influence, the city was locked down in a massive investigation.

When they were finished, they merged with the crowd and went into the city. Applejack took the lead, walking them past buildings and into the middle of town, identifying landmarks and extolling the town’s brief history. They passed the sheriff’s office and smithy, crossing a long, sturdy bridge to a run-down train station, where they stopped in the shade of a large, tattered sign.

“This would be a great place to cast a spell,” Pinkie said. “Up there, I mean. I bet I can see the whole town from that rooftop!”

“We need to refill our rations,” Applejack said. “Ah’m tired of dried veggies.”

“I saw a grocery store on the opposite side of the far road,” Fluttershy said.

“We should do that first,” Rarity said. “You know everyone’s going to be in quite the fuss once we’ve done our spell.”

“I need time to warn everybody anyway,” Octavia said. She looked at them, looking at her inquisitively. “What? You were not going to do it, I assume? It hardly ever gets mentioned.”

“No, you’re right. Go get everyone prepared, and we’ll restock our rations. We can do the spell at, say,” Twilight looked up and smiled, “high noon.”

“Yeeeeee-haw!” Pinkie shrieked, grabbing Applejack’s hat and swinging it raucously. “Magical cowponies!”

“Gimme that,” Applejack said, snatching it back. “Come on. Where’d you see that store, Fluttershy?”

“I saw it too! This-a way!” Pinkie cried, taking off back across the bridge. They followed behind her, and Octavia separated without a word.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rarity asked.

“She’s been quiet since Fillydelphia. Just let her be,” Applejack said. “Oh, there it is.”

They entered the small building, with only three registers and a dozen aisles, sunlit through rows of skylights. Dust swirled in the air, and the smell of fruit and straw filled their lungs. Bins of fresh food stood in the back like chests of jewels, while tacky, metal stands advertised more processed fare. At the front of one aisle, there was a small wall of apple juice decorated with Fluttershy’s smiling visage.

Pinkie, after a moment of looking around, ran to the side, to the bakery. A large cake glistened beneath the counter.

They dispersed through the produce section. “So how is it this tiny town has done so great, while cities like Trottingham or Manehattan are all screwed up?” Rainbow wondered aloud.

“It’s exactly because this is a small town,” Twilight said. “Big towns need a lot of energy and resources to stay alive, but a little one like this hardly needs any, especially with its own apple plantation. Why, the splits hardly even affected it.”

“Their bridge is really nice,” Fluttershy said. “I didn’t like the one in Trottingham.”

“What ‘bout those building-bridges in Manehattan? Those were a sight,” Applejack said.

“Those were awesome,” Rainbow said.

“But this one looks almost professional,” Fluttershy said. “And they’re only going to get better, too.”

“It is amazin’ how easy ponies are adjustin’,” Applejack said. “Fer the most part.”

“If anypony goes digging after we’ve put everything back together, they’re probably going to find old bridges lodged underground,” Rarity said thoughtfully.

“Huh. Yeah, you’re right.” Rainbow laughed. “Can you imagine? They’d be so clueless! Aw, I wish I could see the looks on their faces.”

“Oh my gosh! Twilight! Come over here! You have to see this!” Pinkie yelled from the other side of the store.

Twilight glanced over at her. “What is it?”

“Come see!”

Twilight strolled over to look where Pinkie had her face pressed against the display case, looking in at a towering, five-layer cake of marbled brown and white frosting, trimmed with hot pink, each layer adorned with rings of tiny, red flowers and small strands of silver droplets.

“Got yer eye on her, eh?” the unicorn baker said, swaggering up with an unctuous smile. “She’s a beaut, that’s fer sure.”

“How long did it take you to make this?” Pinkie asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, just a couple days,” he said with an easy shrug. “Yer lookin’ at a lemon cake with cherry fillin’, chocolate an’ white icin’ an’ strawberry trim. Pride of my bakery, if Ah say so myself.”

“Twilight, we have to get this.”

“Pinkie, there’s no way we’re going to eat it all,” Twilight said, stifling a chuckle and looking at the cake again. She couldn’t deny that it pulled at her as well.

“I’ll eat it! I’ll eat the whole thing if you girls don’t want any! Come on, Twilight, please? Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“How much is it?” Twilight asked, suppressing a small sigh.

“Oh, fer nice ladies like yerselves, let’s call it twenty bits.” He winked at Twilight, who only stared back, incredulous.

“We’ll take it!” Pinkie cried, producing a small bundle of bits.

“You got it! Just lemme box this up fer ya.” He floated the cake out of its place and took it to the back.

“Pinkie, we’re going to end up wasting it,” Twilight said.

“No we won’t, Twilight! Like I said, I’ll eat the whole thing if you girls need me to.”

“Way to take one for the team, Pinkie,” Rainbow said. Pinkie beamed, and the unicorn came back out with a tall, bright blue box. They thanked him and found the others on the other side of the store, Applejack with a basket on her back.

“Oh, Rainbow, by the way, Trixie says hi,” Twilight said.

Rainbow looked at her. “Huh?”

“In her letter.”

“Oh, right. Uh, hi, I guess.” Rainbow walked a short distance to a display of dehydrated vegetables. “Why me?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Weird.”

“Maybe she likes you!” Pinkie said.

“Pinkie, not so loud,” Rainbow griped. “And she doesn’t like me. We got on each other’s nerves.”

Pinkie giggled and sidled over to Rainbow. “Aww, Dashie, didn’t you know? Lovers tiff.”

“Ugh, gross!” She shoved Pinkie away, still giggling. “We are not lovers. We’re not even freakin’ friends.”

“Yer blush says otherwise, sugarcube,” Applejack said with a grin.

“I don’t know why she would even want to say hi to me. We hardly talked. She just got mad at me for screwing things up so bad and impersonating the mayor. Which sucked, by the way.”

“No, we know, darlin’. We heard all ‘bout it on the way over here.”

“Twilight, let me know when you’re writing back to her. I wanna give her a piece of my mind.”

“Geez, Rainbow, she just said hi. It’s not that big a deal,” Twilight said.

“Applejack seems to think so.”

“Ah was just funnin’ with ya, ya galoot,” Applejack said. “No need to get yer hackles up.”

“All right, all right; I’m cool. It’s just weird.” They filled Applejack’s basket, and one more, with goods, and returned to the ship, where Pinkie showed them the cake.

“Oh, my, what a delightful thing,” Rarity said. “What’s the occasion, darling?”

“Just wanted to have it! You can never have too much cake!” Pinkie chirped.

“We’ll have to have some after our spell,” Applejack said.

“You go ahead,” Twilight said. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll change that tune when yer done with yer sigil.”

“We’ll see.” She craned her neck to look down at the road, where Octavia approached, flanked by two stallions. “Is that Big Mac?”

They went down to meet them. Octavia stood behind while Braeburn and Big Mac approached Applejack, the former locking her in a crushing hug, the latter taking turns to shake each of their hooves and look into their eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Rainbow asked. “Shouldn’t you be back at Ponyville?”

“Mm, nope.” Big Mac shook his massive head slowly, and Braeburn returned to his side, suddenly somber.

“Ah’m sorry to have to tell ya this, cuz, but we lost Jonagold. ‘Bout a month ago,” Braeburn said, doffing his hat.

“Oh, no.” Applejack removed her own hat. “What happened?”

“Let’s talk about it somewhere more private. Ponies are a little on edge right now; Ah don’t wanna scare ‘em with mentionin’ the, er…”

“Agent,” Big Mac mumbled.

“Yeah, agent of Jona’s passin’.”

“You can come with us. We’re heading to the train station,” Twilight said.

They returned to the train station, Octavia resolutely at the front. The building was a decrepit, cobwebbed mess, its windows smashed in and its front step cracked. A tiny sprawl of train tracks glinted behind it, all curving gently into the distance, where they ended at a sheer chasm.

“I wonder what happened to all the trains,” Rainbow said.

“A lot of them fell through, I am sure,” Octavia said.

“Oh. Uh… all right.”

“Intercity commerce is really hurtin’,” Braeburn said.

“I thought most cities were self-sufficient anyway,” Rarity said.

Twilight pulled out her supplies and lifted them to the station’s roof. “They used to be, back when Princess Luna was more freshly imprisoned. Toward the end of her banishment, though, trade started to take off. I know Manehattan was the first to branch out.”

“Thank the princess we got our own orchards,” Braeburn said. “The only city we got any real contact with is that southern one, Snowdrift.”

“That weird priest is from there,” Big Mac said.

“We know. We talked to him already,” Rainbow said.

“Ah don’t like him.”

“He’s awful secretive,” Braeburn said.

“Really?” Twilight said. She flashed up to the station roof, where Pinkie already waited, having teleported when no one was looking.

“Not ‘bout the goin’s on here, but if ya try to ask him ‘bout Snowdrift, he clams up awful fast.”

“Well why would you be askin’ him ‘bout that town anyway?” Applejack asked.

“We send more’n half our apples there.”

“But not right now,” Big Mac said.

“Yeah, not anymore. No trains.”

“Wait, before we go on, tell me ‘bout Jonagold,” Applejack said. “What happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“No one knew where you were, cuz,” Braeburn said. “We took the family airship down to Ponyville to get everyone, but only Big Mac was able to come.”

“When was this?”

“A month ago, more or less,” Big Mac said, nodding contemplatively.

“We were in Manehattan, I think,” Fluttershy said.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t contact ya,” Braeburn said.

“Just tell me how it happened. Was it Discord?” Applejack asked.

Braeburn’s casually content expression fell, and he removed his hat again, dusting his front with it. “How long’ll we be here?”

“It takes about half an hour for Twilight to draw her sigil,” Octavia said.

“Right. Go on an’ sit down, then.”

Nine days after of the most shocking, reeling disaster in Equestrian history, Braeburn worked in the apple orchard, same as every other day. Separating the good apples from the bad, his eyes kept rising to the tilting cadaver of a soot-blackened, dust-interred train, its smokestack jutting into open air, its wheels kicked haphazardly over a gentle, vertical bend of tracks. He tossed a single, mushy apple into the air and kicked it across the dry earth, to plummet through the chasm.

Everything had happened so suddenly, his reaction only came the day after, empty and confused. The problem was too vast to incite panic or anger, and so, for the first couple hours of that strange, quiet dawn, he had sat on his house’s stoop and looked at the divide. He hadn’t known, then, the scale, but he could assume easily enough; with nothing more interesting in his world than a coming shipment to Snowdrift, the stimulus must have come from afar. Still, he felt a twinge of guilty relief when, a few days later, the damage assessment concluded only a single collapsed house—apart from the torn train tracks that surrounded the town, and what countless ruination was beyond his sight.

He looked up again at the train, and there was something dark above him. He rubbed his eyes with a dusty hoof and watched the airship, with no balloon, crest a hairline of clouds. Three masts, a canopy of black sails, and one proud bowsprit pierced the blue sky, facing the town.

He tilted his head, ready to turn around and go into town himself, but froze when he heard the first projectile whistle. A second later, wood and thatching crashed somewhere not far behind him.

And then, suddenly, action. The tight knot of doubt and denial inside split and uncurled through his body, and he ran as fast as his hooves could carry him, head still calm, calm enough to realize that he was not even entirely sure what he was running to, or from. Through the lines of apple trees and past his small house, he raced. A second crash echoed the first one, and the sounds of alarmed ponies filled the distance. Rounding a street corner, he felt physically stricken from the sight.

Friends, neighbors, and ponies he didn’t know galloped in a disorderly panic over the main street while the strange ship cut a menacing figure behind him. An avalanche of plywood and plaster had spilled into the road, fluffed around a single, black ball that threw a dull wedge of sun up into the startled air. As he watched, there was another shriek of wind, another crash, and a dark spray of wood coupled with the visceral crack of a dislodged sign denting its porch. A light green mare charged out of the damaged building and stopped, aghast, and for a sickening moment, Braeburn met her eyes. Dust shrouded the sky, flung off flashing hooves. Some ponies looked on, dumbfounded.

He looked back feverishly. The ship was turning a languid circle over the apple orchard, lowering and throwing its malicious shadow over the chaos below. When a third cannonball fired, tearing a peacock tail of dust off the road not twenty feet from him, he jumped, stricken with a frantic urge. Tail in the air, he turned and galloped to the side, along his line of trees, toward the largest house in town. Behind him, the same sounds pattered, intermingled with shrieks and babbles. Above, he heard no turbines, no creaking rigging.

When he reached the large house—belonging to Miss Ringlet, a mare he had had his eyes on for a couple months—he stopped at a dainty support beam by the powder-white stairs. Another cannonball shredded the air, and another crash flattened his ears.

Amid the din, he perceived a single, calmer voice, its tone rushed but firm. He discerned no words, but the voice was measured, and its sound brought brief comfort to his alarm. The ship dipped once more to show him a small row of shadows along one of its sides: more cannons. He froze, the thought of their deadly potential filling his mind. Should a single one fire, he would be right in its path.

A flash of motion caught his eye by the ship’s back, and he flinched away again, his head reflexively sinking down into his body to avoid its payload. No whistle, however, sliced the uproar. He looked closer to see a single pegasus, flying closely parallel to the mizzenmast, and before he could process what might be happening, a second one joined from the far side. While the first waited atop the mast, the second swooped low over the deck and burst over the rail in one smooth motion. A small flash speared the masts and sails, and a thick cloud of smoke billowed upwards. The ship fired another cannonball. In only a few seconds, the smoke had filled the space between black masts, and the first pegasus dove into it. Braeburn could only watch as fingers of flame snaked upwards, cradled between dark smoke and darker wood.

The pegasi landed on a nearby rooftop, backs to him. Another building crashed, and he only watched, transfixed, as a bent, metal stovepipe leaned to the ground.

The door to his side opened, and a young, fit mare took a single step out. Miss Ringlet was small and lithe, and when her emerald eyes lit on Braeburn, some of the tension in her demeanor seemed to loosen. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice quiet and respectful.

It was a moment before he could fathom her question. Smoke blackened the sky above the ship, but closer to the ground, he could see another gray ghost, centered in what seemed to be a radiating group of escaping ponies. “Ah can’t say.”

They watched, together, and the pegasi took off again. In the close distance, someone was wailing. He stood his ears up; the wail was not fear or anger, but a lost cry of grief. He shared a worried glance with Miss Ringlet, and the ship fired again, twice in quick succession. Twin thumps shook the ground, but no more buildings crashed. The crying died down, and he looked up again; the fire was gone. Smoke hung in the air like a ghost, but the ship drifted as if unharmed, its front pointing southward. Its cold shadow slithered over him, and he edged closer to Miss Ringlet, unaware of her doing the same. She let out a demure, feminine gasp, and he stepped forward, as if to get a better look. The ship had taken off. It was gone in an instant, dragging a tail of smoke behind it in a feeble, spectral claw. No noise was heard in its departure, and for a moment, the sounds of the town were drowned out by the roar of shocked adrenaline in his head.

When it ebbed back to him, the fantastic doubt and grandeur was gone. No unreal ship, no defiant pegasi, just smoke in the sky and debris on the warm ground. Through a gap between buildings, he could see one edge of a gathering crowd. One stallion limped away desperately, his face turned away from Braeburn’s.

He looked quickly at the sound of hooves on the wooden steps. Miss Ringlet took off across the dust, leaving him to watch from afar, unnoticed. After a moment of hesitation, he followed her.

“An’ when we’d helped everybody, we found Jonagold’s… remains. It was her an’ two others.”

Applejack nodded slowly, eyes to the ground. Her face was steely, and she looked up sharply at the first sounds of Pinkie’s spell taking effect. Braeburn and Big Mac held onto each other as the ground trembled back together, and when it was done, Rainbow helped Twilight and Pinkie down.

A large group of ponies had gathered around the ship when they returned, and, for the first time since they were in Ponyville, they endured wave after wave of questions and thanks about the spell. To their relief, Appleloosa was tiny, and needed only the one—Pinkie said she had even gotten the northern section of Dodge Junction.

When the crowd had dispersed, an hour and a half later, only Reverend Green remained, an open book across his back. He boarded with them and floated it to the deck, where Twilight immediately crouched to study it. “My apologies for not getting it to you sooner. I’m afraid I got distracted with a rather personal affair.” His horn lit up, and a small dot of color danced across the page. “As you can see, the recipe itself is quite simple, and all but one ingredient is easy enough to procure.”

Twilight frowned slightly. “Distilled dream. Sheesh.”

“I know. I’m heading to Dodge Junction today, to see if I can’t get the other ingredients at their apothecary.”

“And you need me to distill this dream,” Twilight said. “This dream of confinement.”

“I can assist if you need,” Reverend Green said.

“We might. I haven’t done something like this in years. I need to research it.”

“Of course.” He looked over at Applejack, watching him, and went to the gunwale. He ran a hoof tenderly over the turret, cold and unused. “I saw you with the large, red stallion today, and his excitable friend.”

“That’s Big Mac. My brother,” Applejack said.

“Ah, I see.” His horn pulsed, and Applejack narrowed her eyes. “Does he seem okay to you?”

“Okay? What are you gettin’ at?”

“Oh, no, I’m making no accusations.” His horn strobed rapidly. “Forget I said anything.”

“Yer not doin’ anythin’ to him, are you?”

“I? I would never,” he said indignantly. “It was a mere expression of concern. Please, do not think ill of me for it.”

“You said you were from Snowdrift, right?” Rarity asked.

“Yes.”

“How’d you get here from there?” Rainbow asked. “You can’t fly.”

“What is this?” Reverend Green asked, a smile pulling his wizened face apart. “Am I really so interesting?”

“If you got somethin’ goin’ on with my brother, you sure are,” Applejack said.

“No, no, nothing but a passing curiosity, I promise.”

“So how did you get here?” Rarity pressed.

“Well, a stallion of faith can go wherever he wants,” Reverend Green said. He backed away to the ramp. “Your worries are not with me. They are with poor Miss Ringlet.”

“Where can I find you if I need to talk about this dream?” Twilight asked, not looking up from her book.

“Just ask someone in town. I’m always around.”

Rarity raised a hoof to ask another question, but he didn’t stop, and was gone.

Twilight didn’t return from belowdecks until the sun was low, and Pinkie had whipped everyone into a small frenzy. In the distance, what sounded like the windup to a large party lit the air.

“Braeburn just came by to tell us,” Fluttershy said. “They’re having a hoedown in honor of the town coming back together.”

“Not that it made much of a difference this time,” Rainbow said, hovering several feet off the deck. “All we really did is break their cool bridge.”

Twilight looked at them all, then back at the hatch, then out at the town. The deep yellow of a large fire played on the side of a barn, and ponies’ shadows danced against it. “I can take a break from my research.”

Pinkie cheered beside her, and before she could do anything else, she had a pink foreleg wrapped around her own, awkwardly yanking her across the deck. “Let’s goooooooo!”

They hit the street, and Pinkie immediately took off at a gallop, Applejack just behind, laughing. Rainbow flew a few feet over Twilight’s head.

“I hope they don’t insist on thanking us or anything,” Fluttershy said.

“You can stand behind me if they do try anything, darling,” Rarity said.

“How’s your horn, anyway, Rarity?” Twilight asked.

“Oh… it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It was a heroic thing you did with it,” Octavia said, prompting a jump from Rarity.

“Geez, Octavia, we forgot you were even there,” Rainbow said.

Octavia nodded. “I have not had much to say today.”

“Are you all right?” Fluttershy asked.

“Of course.”

They turned away from Miss Ringlet’s house, its lights all off, to approach the barn, where Pinkie and Applejack waited at the door. A pair of bonfires flanked its mouth, large groups of ponies dancing or sitting around them. Inside, torches decorated the walls, and ponies, some dressed up and many not, moved feverishly in the hot light. Bales of hay were stacked against the sides, serving as chairs or places from which to hang decorations. A trio of earth ponies stood on an improvised stage playing two acoustic guitars and a beaten-up pair of drums, while a fourth leaned on a stool with a sultry, observant smile.

They went to the side, where Braeburn waved at them from beside a snack table. Pinkie and Rainbow didn’t stay to chat, and Fluttershy and Octavia receded to the back while Braeburn spoke quietly with Twilight and Applejack.

“This music is nice,” Fluttershy said.

“It serves its purpose well enough,” Octavia said.

“Oh, um, you don’t like it?”

“I did not say that. But no, I do not. I have never been much of a fan of country music. There is too much of an emphasis on twanging strings.”

“You don’t have to like the music to be able to dance to it!” Pinkie said, suddenly next to them. “You just gotta have the right spirit! Come on, Octavia! I’ll show you!”

“Pinkie, please, you do not need to—”

“Nonsense! Let’s go!” Pinkie dragged the protesting mare into the crowd, and Twilight joined Fluttershy, giggling.

“Oh, poor Octavia. She doesn’t want to dance,” Fluttershy said.

“I’ll bet she’s good,” Twilight said. “You don’t get to such a high status without picking up at least the basics.”

They waited and watched for a time, silent, but they couldn’t see Octavia in the crowd—only Pinkie, jumping up and down, flailing her limbs, cheering in small puffs of confetti.

“Um, Twilight, you don’t have to stay here for me. I’m perfectly comfortable staying by myself,” Fluttershy said. “Not, um, not that I want you to leave or anything. It’s just, I don’t want you to think—”

“It’s okay, Fluttershy. I like spending time with you.” She breathed out slowly. “And I’m not much in the mood for dancing. I thought I might be, but now that I’m here…”

“Do you want to go outside? We can sit by one of the fires.”

Twilight shrugged loosely, and the two made their way to the exit. They hadn’t seen it on their approach, but near the back of the barn, there was a curved row of smaller fires, with only a few ponies tending each one. They took seats on a hay bale some distance away from the others.

“I’m really worried about what the princess said,” Fluttershy mumbled. “Discord’s on the move again, but they can’t find him anywhere.”

“He has the castle, but he’s never there,” Twilight said. “He’s up to something else, I know it. But… we have to have faith in the princesses. They know what they’re doing, and they’ve fought him before. Princess Celestia is right; we need to worry about getting the Elements.”

“I know.” Fluttershy leaned forward to stare into the flames. Her wings were limp. “I just hate how much pressure it puts on us. We still have to find five Elements, and use them on Discord before he completely takes over Equestria. But instead of searching for them, we’re here, at a party, acting like there’s nothing the matter.”

Twilight nodded, curious to see where Fluttershy was going. She leaned forward as well.

“You, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack are the only ones who really seem to care about what we need to do. Pinkie doesn’t seem to know what’s going on half the time, Rarity acts like she’s just along for the ride, Octavia’s too caught up in her own problems to do more than help the immediate situation, and I’m too much of a coward to do anything useful. Then, when something does happen, we all turn on each other and get mad or upset, like when we have to fight a monster. It’s like Discord’s already working on us, and we don’t even realize it. It makes me so mad.” She abruptly stopped and looked at Twilight. “Oh, Twilight, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to rant, or say all those bad things about our friends.”

Twilight didn’t look up. “Don’t worry, Fluttershy. You’re just speaking your mind; there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I feel awful.”

“Don’t feel bad for expressing your opinion.” She shook her head lightly to break her trance on the fire. “If it makes you feel better, I think you’re right. We are lacking in focus. Some of us, anyway.”

“But that’s no reason for me to be mad,” Fluttershy said.

“Maybe not, but it is good that you pointed it out. We should be paying more attention to our goal, not getting distracted every time we enter a new town.” She looked back into the fire. “It’s like a formula. Each time we enter a new town, we find a spot to park our ship, talk to the mayor, then run into somepony with some sort of problem and get ourselves involved in it. That Strawberry pony in Manehattan, the Astras in Trottingham, Trixie in Fillydelphia, and now this reverend. Reverend Green.”

“I don’t know if I like him.”

“He seems fine. I know what you mean, though.” She levitated a sprig of hay and let its tip curl up on a hot coal at the bottom of the pit.

“So… how have you been lately?”

“I dreamed about it the night we left Fillydelphia, but not since.”

“There you are!” Rainbow cried, swooping in from above. “You girls have to see this. Pinkie and Octavia are in a dance circle.”

Twilight stood up, her momentary discomfort lost. Fluttershy looked at her with knit brows, but followed her lead, and the three of them dashed into the barn. Everyone cheered as the musicians supplied a jocund tune, and Rainbow cleared a way to the front of the crowd. Pinkie twirled and jumped with a giant, unfocused smile, but Twilight only watched Octavia, shuffling along with a barely-contained grimace. Ponies still egged her on, and with every flourish, even a twitch of her tail, someone gave a yawp of delight. Even Twilight let herself be swept up in the ridiculous, joyful catharsis, laughing and calling out encouragement.

When Octavia finally managed to escape the circle, replaced with a stranger, she joined Twilight without comment. Rainbow patted her on the back, but she only closed her eyes patiently. They watched Pinkie for a minute longer, and when Octavia moved for the doors, Twilight followed.

“You danced pretty well,” Twilight said. She led the way back to the small fire.

“You flatter me. I do not like my dancing. It is clumsy, and often off-beat,” Octavia said.

“Well, I liked it.”

Octavia sat close to the fire and grabbed a coal in her magic; looking up at the others, she dropped it. “I did not. It is too easy for me to break into a sweat.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve got that problem too.”

“At least you were able to escape Pinkie.” She looked up slowly as Braeburn approached, his happy eyes unseemly with the fire’s reflection.

“There y’are. Ah was hopin’ to catch ya, Miss Octavia.”

“What do you need?”

Braeburn chuckled and held out his hoof. “Ah’d like t’ask if you’d like to be my dance partner. They’re gonna start square dancin’ in a couple minutes!”

Octavia considered for a moment, glancing at Twilight, who offered her an encouraging grin. “Certainly.” She stood with a grunt and walked by his side, out of the circle of light.

Twilight didn’t follow. She leaned back on her hay bale and closed her eyes, reflecting. A pony with a thick accent announced the beginning of the square dancing inside.

“I guess you haven’t seen it, but Braeburn’s really taking a shine to Octavia,” Rainbow said.

Twilight looked at her.

“I thought you could use the company.”

“Thanks.”

Rainbow sat next to her bale. “Yeah, he’s been looking at her all night long. Keeps smiling and nodding at her.”

“I can imagine how she’s been reacting,” Twilight said.

“Yeah, it’s like you’d think. I saw ‘em walking back in together.”

“He wanted her to square dance.”

Rainbow laughed and slapped the hay, rolling onto her back. “Aw, I’ve gotta see that.” She stood up to walk back, but stopped when Twilight turned back to the fire. “Eh, you know, I think I’ll stick with you.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Rainbow sat down again. “So… you all right?”

“I’m all right. You know how it is.”

“Nnnnnot really, actually. I haven’t, you know, dreamed about it.”

“Well… I think I’m okay. Or I will be.”

“You sure?”

Twilight cocked an ear to hear Pinkie inside, calling the square dance. She smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the serious conversation, and fixed her eyes back on the fire. It was still vibrant and low, and her face was warm.

“Twilight?”

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Oh.” Rainbow sighed. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“You know, the whole… flashback thing.”

Twilight didn’t avert her eyes. The day had been long, and with the noise from within and glare of the fire in her eyes, she felt dissolved into the night. She knew there were strangers around, but she didn’t care. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Okay.” She blinked and savored the warmth on her muzzle. “It’s like… you’re trapped, in a way. Mm, that’s not doing it justice.” She lowered her voice. It was like she was speaking just to herself. “It’s like, most days, I can get by just fine without really thinking about it. It’s in the back of my mind, but it doesn’t really bother me that much.” She shivered and scooted closer to the flames. “But then something reminds you of it. Something small, like the smoke off the stern, or something big, like when Spring-hoof Jack wrecked that bar. And suddenly, it’s all really clear, and the memories are so strong, you kind of… of lose that sense that they’ve already happened, that they’re complete.”

“Uh huh.”

She looked up. Rainbow was watching her with a patient, unassuming expression, magenta eyes calm in the flickering light. “And it’s really, very easy to lose yourself in those memories, because they’re very powerful.” She stopped to take a deep breath. There was a catch in her throat as she did so. “And… so then, when you do lose yourself, it’s kind of like… like you’re back there, like you’re back on that… balcony. You know, like you, like you just landed, and it’s all happening again. Like, you kind of black out a little bit—at least I do—and I can see the night, and the stars, and those ponies, and I see myself back away, and I see the, the broken…” She dipped her head and felt a hoof on her back. “The broken rail.” She shuddered. “And then everyone else is freaking out, like ‘Twilight, are you all right?’ Like ‘what’s going on with you?’ And I just want to stop sometimes, and, and scream, you know, like ‘what is wrong with you ponies? Can’t you see what’s happening?’ But I don’t, I never do, I, I, I can’t, I can’t bring myself to it, I don’t want to make this even harder, and then I come back and I feel okay, but I’m not, you know? I’m not. I’m, I’m drowning in this pool of horrible, dark thoughts, and this swamp of memories, and everyone else is just swimming around me.”

“Twilight…”

“I don’t even feel like getting out of bed sometimes. Like, I dream about it and I wake up, and I remember, it’s not some distant memory; it really happened. I really experienced that, and then that just brings it back again, and I’ll spend forever in bed just thinking about it.”

“I… I can’t even imagine.” Her voice was soft.

“When…” She trailed off and stared at a pocket in the coals. A shred of hay winked reflected firelight at her, and she focused on it. She could feel her world dropping away. With the burden of expression eased, she felt light and inequine, a statue, content to sit and slowly die before the fire. The warm earth was gone, and the hay under her was too. Rainbow’s hoof retracted, and the noise from inside the barn became a low, throbbing roar. Pinkie’s enthusiastic calling, a scream.

“When what?”

She swallowed, but didn’t move her head. In the distance, someone cried out, and she could smell her own vomit, tinged with the iron of blood. Someone was approaching from above to attack her, but she didn’t look up. She let it come.

“Twi?”

Eyes closed, wet and hot, she feels so tight that she must explode. She feels the impostor just a meter over her head, bearing down. She feels the aching swell of her chest as nothing comes, over and over again. The pulsing, cold night, and fading clarity. One more time, she thinks. What’s the harm?

But it doesn’t come.

She opens her eyes and looks around. She is free, her mind swept clear. Rainbow looks back at her, concerned—afraid, even. She hangs her head. “Nothing.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing happened.” She doesn’t feel happy. She feels stupid, selfish, melodramatic.

“What do you mean, nothing happened? Are you okay?”

“I thought I was going to do it again, just there, just now,” Twilight said. “Talking about it made me think I was going to relive it.”

“And you didn’t?”

“No.”

“Wha—but that’s good. You don’t want that.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“All this talk, and I didn’t even deliver on it.”

Rainbow looked into the fire for a moment. “All right, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe I’m just being stupid, but you’re not making any sense here.”

“I should have flashed back. Don’t you get it? I should have, but I didn’t. I’m just wasting your time.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on now. Wasting my time?”

“With my complaining. It’s clearly not even that serious.”

“Twilight, look at me.”

Twilight moaned.

“I’m serious. Look at me.” She grabbed Twilight’s head and gently tilted it toward her own. “You are not a waste of time. Not of my time, not of your own time, not of anyone’s time. You are in a lot of pain—more pain than I even knew someone could feel, and that’s not okay with me. I care about you, and how you’re feeling, and that’s serious enough for me.” Twilight tried to avert her eyes, but Rainbow put a hoof to her face. “You said you didn’t flash back this time?”

“No, I didn’t. I was thinking about all the stuff, but… no, I didn’t go back there.”

“Then that’s good. That’s a step in the right direction.”

Twilight nodded, and, for the first time in several minutes, looked around. They were alone. “Where did everyone go?”

“They left,” Rainbow said evenly. “Don’t worry.”

Twilight slowly rose from her seat and sat on the ground beside Rainbow, leaning in to her. “I really appreciate what you’re doing for me, Rainbow Dash.”

“I never leave a friend hanging. If it takes a million more of these weird fire-staring things, then that’s what it’ll be.”

Twilight smiled calmly. “I don’t think it’ll be quite a million.”

It was well past ten when the party stopped, and Twilight was ready to return to the ship. She and Rainbow had spent the remainder of their time outside, only getting up when the fire was out. As ponies shuffled out the barn doors to their homes, Twilight’s group stayed behind to help Braeburn and a few others clean up.

“That was some party, huh?” Applejack asked, coat soaked with sweat. She picked up her hat from the dance floor and dusted it off, smiling warmly.

“It was a wonderful change of pace,” Rarity said. “Though I’m going to need to have at least three showers when I get back. My mane is a fright.”

“Ah didn’t see much of you all night, Twilight. Everythin’ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Twilight said. “Now.”

“Now?”

“I’ll catch you up on the ship.”

They moved the hay bales out of the barn, and before they left, Braeburn stole a hug from Octavia.

As they walked back, Twilight told them what had happened, sparing no details, no matter how they embarrassed her. When they were all on the deck, everyone was quiet, and Rarity went to the side to look out at the country, tail flicking on the wooden floor.

Twilight grabbed her book, next to Reverend Green’s, and flipped through it. “So, the reverend should have the first two ingredients under control, but the last one, we need to get ourselves.”

There was a long silence on the deck: ponies contemplating whether they were satisfied with Twilight’s account of her night. “Only three ingredients?” Rarity asked.

“It’s a simple recipe, though we’ll need to be very careful with our ratios,” Twilight said. “That final ingredient especially is nothing to sneeze at. We need a distilled dream.”

“Uh, what?” Applejack asked.

“It’s the essence of a dream, made into a physical thing. It’s usually a liquid, but you can turn it into a powder or a gas if you’re careful.” She looked closer at a page in her book. “Ponies like to use them for spiritual, metaphysical things.”

“An’ how the hay are we s’posed to get a hold of this?”

“Well, unfortunately, it’s pretty complicated. According to my reading, we’ll need four ponies for the job. Someone to actually have the dream; someone to go in and make sure it’s right for the potion; someone to bring the dream, and the pony who went in, out; and someone to capture and contain it once it’s in our world.”

“Uh… can you do that again? Maybe a little slower?” Rainbow asked.

“Okay. Four ponies. One pony falls asleep and dreams the dream we need. One pony, under a magical spell, will look inside her head and watch the dream, to make sure it’s right for the potion. They’re called ‘divers’, by the way. I guess because they kind of dive into your head, like a regular diver goes underwater.”

“Okay, Ah’m with ya so far,” Applejack said.

“We need one pony to facilitate; she has to hold on to the diver, act as a kind of guide wire. She pulls the diver, and her dream, out when everything’s done.”

“All right.”

“And then the pony who captures the dream once it’s been extracted; she’s called the ‘bottler.’ Since it’s kind of like bottling a butterfly, or a fish or something.”

“I understand,” Rarity said.

“So who’re these ponies gonna be, Twilight?” Rainbow asked.

“Well, hold on. I’m not done. There are some risks involved.”

“As there must be!” Pinkie exclaimed.

Twilight glanced at her. “Right. The sleeping pony probably has it easiest, but she can still be hurt if the dream is extracted incorrectly.”

“What kind of dream does this potion require?” Octavia asked.

“We need a bad dream. A dream about being trapped, or stuck, or something like that.”

“Trapped in what?” Rarity asked.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as the dreamer feels physically immobilized in some way, the dream is good. Now, the diver has the riskiest job, since a part of her goes into the sleeping pony’s mind and interacts with her dreams. It can be very dangerous, and if the diver isn’t careful, she can seriously harm herself, or the sleeper.”

“How seriously?” Fluttershy asked.

“Well… I don’t want to freak anypony out, but there’s a minor possibility of getting lost in the dreamer’s subconscious. Either that, or the diver accidentally opening up old thoughts or memories. You know, introducing forgotten… traumas, or creating new ones.”

“This is soundin’ like a worse an’ worse idea with each thing you say, you realize that,” Applejack said.

“I do, but we have no other options. This is the key ingredient to Reverend Green’s potion, and we can’t get it anywhere else.”

“We can always not do it,” Rarity said.

Everyone paused to look at her.

“I mean, if it’s truly that risky, why should we?”

“Element of Generosity,” Rainbow whispered, shaking her head.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be discerning, darling.”

“We already promised to help him,” Octavia said. “Rather, Rarity did. Continue, Twilight.”

“Uh-huh. Uh… yeah, okay, sure.” She looked back to her book. “The facilitator just has to be alert and pull the diver out if things start looking bad. And if worse comes to worst, she can wake up the sleeper, but something like that is a very easy way to harm the diver; it’s only for emergencies. Lastly, there’s the bottler. The bottler has to cast the right spell at the right time to contain the dream; if the dream isn’t contained properly, or, worse yet, escapes… well, if it’s the right kind of dream, that can do a lot of damage.”

“But that almost never happens, right?” Fluttershy said.

“Well, usually dream distilling is done by professionals; it’s outlawed in Canterlot, I know, as well as Ponyville.”

“Probably not out here,” Applejack said.

“No, probably not.”

“So who’s the lucky pony who gets to sleep through all this?” Rainbow asked.

“Well, we need two unicorns for the facilitating and bottling, so Rarity and I are automatically out.”

“My horn is injured,” Rarity said.

“Oh. Right.” Twilight looked at the others. “Okaaaay, this is a little weird. Um… Octavia? How would you feel about taking her place?”

“Why me?” Octavia asked.

“The way I see it, it has to be you, Pinkie, or Fluttershy, and you’ve spent the most time learning magic.”

“How complicated is the spell?”

Twilight looked back to her book. “I’m not entirely sure. This brand of magic is pretty far outside my wheelhouse, to be honest.”

“Then how do you expect me to do the job?”

“Ask Green,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, ask that creep,” Applejack said.

“You’re still bothered about what he said about Big Mac, huh?”

“He’s got my suspicions up, let’s just say that.”

“If you want, Twilight, I will volunteer to be the diver,” Octavia said.

“Mm, that sounds better. You won’t have to do any magic that way, and I can just as Reverend Green to facilitate. Now, as for who sleeps. We need someone who has a fairly stable, easy-going mind, who isn’t going to have dreams that fluctuate wildly. Pinkie, that puts you out.”

Pinkie put on a pout. “Awwwwwww, shucks!”

“Pinkie, I bet you couldn’t even fall asleep with us standing around you like that,” Rainbow said.

“Yes I can! Watch me!” She collapsed onto the deck with a heavy thud and a giggle, and Rainbow poked her side, prompting a spasm of laughter.

“It’s gotta be Fluttershy,” Applejack said. “Ah got fairly peaceful dreams, but Ah’m not sure Ah’m comfortable with y’all runnin’ ‘round inside my head.”

“Um, I can do it,” Fluttershy said. “As long as you’re sure I’ll be okay.”

“I’m as sure as I can be,” Twilight said, pausing to give her a smile, which she didn’t return.

“And you’re gonna be the bottler?” Applejack asked.

“I guess I have to be.”

“When are we doing this?” Rainbow asked.

“Not tonight,” Twilight said. “I still need to do a ton of reading about it. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Oh, that sounds… great,” Fluttershy said.

“You’ll be fine, Fluttershy!” Pinkie cried. “You just gotta make sure you’re super sleepy when Octavia’s ready to jump into your brain!”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep with that hanging over my head.”

“Twilight, will it be the same if we give her, like, a sedative or something?” Rainbow asked.

“I doubt it. Drugs tend to mess up the dreaming process pretty bad,” Twilight said. “I’m going to my room.” She lifted her book and vanished below the deck. Outside, Big Mac’s large shadow slowly moved down the road.