“Now we shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.”

-H.P Lovecraft, American Author

Foolish though it might be, Luna kept trying. She stole into Celestia’s dreams three more times, and always the machine was there. And always, she made no headway. It would reflect her questions with maternal grace, trying to bring the conversation around to others. Sometimes Luna, sometimes Twilight, sometimes all of Equestria.

And it would always assure her that Celestia was fine, even as it decayed. The head’s plaster horn fell off on Luna's third visit, and one gear after another rusted to stillness. One pen would cease its scratching, one steam vent would go silent, yet a thousand more toiled onwards. Endlessly working, endlessly crumbling, endlessly telling her not to worry. The plaster face would smile, and the nothing-eyes would wake Luna from her own nightmares.

Some days, she would avoid Celestia. It was hard to look at her now, knowing that thing laid just beneath the skin. Even awake, Luna couldn’t help but see it. In the white face, the practiced smile. The dark eyes…

Tia looked so hollow, now. A thin sack of bones, beneath a limp neck and sallow eyes. She smiled and laughed, but these things had no feeling. Perhaps they were not even an act, but a machined creation. A lifeless, engineered response without the even the creativity of a lie.

The questions burned within Luna. What was beneath that smile? What was inside that sad, grinding monster with the black eyes?

Maybe nothing. Maybe that’s all Celestia was, anymore. A machine. A machine smile and machine heart, deflecting all care because there was nothing of her left to care for.

Luna began getting out of Canterlot as often as she could. To visit the new Princess Twilight in Ponyville, or Cadence in her empire.

Whenever Celestia came up in conversation, the two young alicorns got stars in their eyes. They gushed at how smart and kind she was, and Luna did not correct them. What could she say? That the mare who ruled alone for a thousand years was… was what? Luna didn’t even know.

Maybe there was no deeper answer. Maybe the machine was all that remained. If that was the case…

Then somewhere along the way, I really did lose my sister.

Luna took her tea alone one evening, staring into the cup. She doesn’t need me anymore. She doesn’t love me.

It made sense. That monster within was so sincere, so insistent, how could it not be Celestia? It was her Cor Cordis.

And me? Luna wondered, frowning. I’m the intruder, invading her dreams for no reason but to meddle. Trying to fix her when she isn’t broken. She’s fine. She’s been fine for a thousand years, and she’s fine now.

She threw her head to the side, snarling in frustration. “But what if I’m wrong? What if she’s – I don’t know – tired? Pained? Losing her mind? What’s ‘you,’ Tia? Is that thing really ‘you?’”

“Heh.” Luna gave a short, bitter laugh. “I wonder if she asked the same question about Nightmare Moon.”

The smile faded, but so did the frustration. Remembering her own corruption… well, that hashed it. A reminder of how much she owed her sister.

She’d keep trying. Luna would keep talking to Celestia, both asleep and awake. No matter how annoyed her sister got, or how many times the machine turned her questions around. She’d keep right on shoving her snout into Tia’s business, unasked for and unwanted.

Like a good sister should. And though Celestia might not be Luna’s sister, Luna was most assuredly hers.

Conviction aside, Luna needed a break. The chilling encounters and following nightmares had left her exhausted. She needed sleep – not dream-walking, but real sleep.

So she slept. She slept the next night too, and the rest for a week. It took only a few nights for the shock to dim, and the nightmares of black eyes to fade. Luna was nothing if not a lucid dreamer, and soon saw the bad dreams for what they were: a hurtful memory, and nothing more.

She had been looking forward to nights of blissful unconsciousness. Nights of allowing even her sleep-mind to rest, leaving her refreshed each morning for the days ahead.

“Slap.”

Instead, she awoke one night with a startled gasp.

The sound was all she could remember, nonsensical as it was. “Slap.” Not like a hoof on a cheek, but a quiet whiplash. A random, gentle noise, without any vision or feeling attached to it.

Whatever the source, it was gone. Luna frowned, annoyed, and rolled over. It couldn’t have been a dream. She always could tell when her own dream-clouds formed.

It must have been real, then. Maybe a night guard was flicking his tail against something.

“No discipline,” Luna grumbled, letting the drowsiness reclaim her.

“Slap. Slap.”

The next night saw her startle once more. Again, the soft slap and the frightened, instinctive gasp into wakefulness.

Still no source. No reason to be afraid.

When it happened the third night, Luna irately cursed the night guards and vowed to sleep somewhere else for a change. She had been meaning to go to Ponyville again.

She left that day, and the visit proved enjoyable. The librarian-turned-princess Twilight was as friendly as ever, and embarrassed as ever about her humble guest room. Its bed was built for unicorns, leaving small room for Luna's wings.

As ever, Luna did not mind. She wouldn’t want to sleep in it every night, but there was something cozy about the small bed and plaid blanket. Canterlot was her home, but Twilight’s library felt “homey” in a way the gilded palace could never match.

“Slap.”

Noise. Gasp. Awake.

Nothing.

This time, Luna wasn’t annoyed. She was curious. Not an idle curiosity either, but a guarded, wary one. A curiosity that bid her to stretch her magical senses forth, searching in vain for spellcraft or an intruder.

A few minutes brought out every detection spell Luna knew, and still nothing. The night was still, the air was silent, and all seemed right with the world.

Luna’s face turned to a worried frown, her mind unconvinced. The same little noise, night after night. It felt too strange to be a coincidence.

Perhaps she was startling at shadows. The… feeling? Dream? Sound? Whatever it was, it seemed to only come once a night. Luna snuggled back into the homely blankets, feeling herself grow drowsy once more.

Sleep, however, eluded her. Luna stared out the window as the night passed, mane twitching to the beat of her pondering thoughts.

The following night, back in Canterlot, Luna kept her sleep-mind awake. She floated among her own clouds – pawing at them, sniffing, searching for the source of that noise.

After the first fruitless minutes, she blushed at the silliness of it all. The Great Night Princess, paranoid of her own dreams! What foalishness.

Yet Luna was the night princess. She did not dream without knowing it. Not of slapping, not of anything.

The dream-clouds had no answers. Celestia half-formed in one, staring out mournfully with empty eyes. Luna winced, but she beat her wings once and dispersed the image. I haven’t forgotten, Tia. I just need to take care of this.

No invader, no noise. There wasn’t even a coherent dream tonight. Luna kept winging around the intangible space, searching for something that might not exist. Some sign, some source of that–

“Slap.”

Luna’s ears flew up, and her mouth rose to a triumphant grin. There was something making that noise in here. It wasn’t just her nerves, and it wasn’t a sound from the waking world. After days of confusion, that little certainty was a victory. With fast pumps of her wings, she shot off in the direction it came from.

Silence, then a single “Slap.” It… might have been to her right? Luna turned and flew on.

Nothing. Just dream-clouds.

“Slap,” to her left. She turned, and “Slap,” above her head.

Luna slowed, letting herself float without effort. She gazed around, wondering if there were many intruders… but no, that was foalish. How could she be surrounded when there was nothing else here?

“Slap,” to her left again, but Luna didn’t chase it. She turned in a tight circle, glaring, mentally demanding the non-existent invader come forth.

A growl rumbled from her throat, the noise growing to a frustrated shout. Stonewalled. This was her realm, it was even in her mind! She knew everything there was to know about the dream-sky, so why did this elude her? How did this elude her?

The slap came again as she yelled, unimpeded by the noise. Still as crisp and soft as ever.

Lune blinked in surprise, Her rage ending abruptly. The slap should have been lost in her shouting.

Seizing the clue, Luna plugged her hooves into her ears. She waited, waited, and–

“Slap.” The noise was clear, not softened in the least by her covered ears.

This time, she didn’t smile at the revelation. It was just another question answered with a question.

This slapping wasn’t mere sound. It was a feeling, one that affected the reality of her dreams. Somehow meaningful, somehow important, but she couldn’t fathom why.

The night passed without further incident, and Luna felt her spirits rise. This strange noise, this anomaly… it was troubling, yes, but she would be lying to claim that she wasn't excited. It was a new mystery, far from Celestia’s well-ordered court.

Luna smiled into wakefulness, letting her mind slip into fantasy. Perhaps this would lead to some great trouble that only she could solve. She would do it with style, right in front of Tia. It would remind the older sister that Luna wasn’t some stranger, but a beloved sister, and an equal to her might. They would start splitting the work again, leaving plenty of time for outings and sleepovers, parties and pillow fights…

“Pillow fights?” Luna laughed, rising from the bed. “That’s a bit too much to hope for. Maybe we can just sit and read together when this is all done.”

“But where to start? ” Luna’s smile fell as she rose from the bed, her mind already turning with theories. None of them made sense. For all her knowledge of the dream world, she had no idea what was happening in there.

“Maybe I need an amateur’s opinion,” she mused, stepping into her hoof cups. “An outsider might notice something I can’t.”

Tia’s name entered her mind, and was discarded just as quickly. Twilight’s took only a moment longer – the young princess was an analyst by nature, who solved problems with logical deduction. She would flounder with these vague notions and feelings.

“Cadence.” Luna said the name as she exited, drawing a glance from a passing courtier. It had been a while since she’d seen her modern-day mentor. The pink princess lived in the Crystal Empire now, but distance meant little to one who could walk through dreams.

Her timing was bad. Luna caught Cadence in the middle of a nightmare.

Being a pony who trod dreams as easily as sidewalks, Luna had a different perspective on nightmares than most. As scary as they could be, they were harmless images cast by the sleeping mind. No more real than the horror movie she once watched with Cadence and Shining Armor.

Luna smiled, stepping through the ethereal smoke that rose as she entered. “Horror movie.” The analogy fit well.

It was a guilty pleasure, but she got no shortage of amusement from monster-variety nightmares. Especially her own. And if the Sombralite cultist slashed her up at the end of a tense chase, that just made it a good, edge-of-your-seat dream. The next morning she would laugh about it, wondering what ever made her fear him so.

Nightmares were important as well as fun, so she rarely interfered. They often were just the mind’s way of releasing stress. If this proved a truly terrible dream, Cadence would simply awaken, feel relief at its end, and appreciate her life all the more. It would cause no harm, and perhaps bring a little good.

Luna looked around, noticing that this was one of those “wake you up sweating” kind of nightmares. Cadence wasn’t even visible, though surely she saw the awful destruction around them. It was an alien city, with straight metal towers that clawed the sky. Yet the towers were ruined, and the city laid as a wasteland of steel and stone.

Unpleasant sights, but the truly fearful things were above and below those towers. Above, it seemed at first to be merely a strange night sky, its color weaved randomly between purple and black. Stranger still, the stars clustered normally in some places, yet were entirely gone from others.

Only with the second look did Luna see the correlation. Where the sky was its normal purple, the stars were there. Where it was black, they were gone. And the blackness was moving. It wasn’t the sky, but the black tendrils of some massive thing that stood in the way. Looming above the city, waving to the will of some hateful brain. They branched out from a towering figure, too far away to make out details.

Luna swallowed hard. She knew that later she would think about what a thrilling, excellent nightmare this was. Now, she shrunk back and hoped the thing’s gaze was elsewhere.

However massive they were, those tendrils were merely part of the scenery. The action, the attention, was on the creatures below. They were feral, growling things that stood on two or four gangly limbs. They had grey, hairless skin and hooked noses, and wore rags in the place of clothes.

Some of the rags had once been fine silks. Others, resplendent uniforms. But they were rags still, and no distinction was drawn between their wearers.

Only one seemed different. An upright elder with a wrinkled grey face, trying to teach their history to the snarling pack. He said they were great once. It was they who built those skyscrapers.

But then it came to them. The Cruel Dark. The Laughing Apocalypse. Casting their great civilization to ruin. Heedless of every weapon, scornful of every champion.

He showed a tattered flag in his claws, the fabric still bright with reds and blues. It was surely a great symbol, surely had once been defended with honor and pride.

“We must remember,” the elder said. “That we may retain who we once were, and rebuild when the beast is gone.”

The mob heard nothing. With animal grunts and snorts, they charged him. They tore into the elder’s flesh and crammed those clawfuls into their mouths. They brawled over the meat, clubbing each other with rocks, pistols, and strange weapons surely not built for clubbing.

It was gruesome, but merely a movie. Luna glanced around, idly impressed that Cadence hadn’t been shocked awake. The girl was made of sterner stuff than she guessed.

In the course of that glance, a new figure caught her eye. So absurd and out of place that Luna laughed out loud. It was a bipedal being in a dapper white coat and hat, sitting at an unblemished desk perched not three paces to her right. Playing solitaire of all things with its white-gloved hands, hat low on its face.

“Ah, the randomness of dreams.” Luna smiled, unable to resist sidling up to the player. “Where’s the pink elephant?”

The dream-thing ignored her, studiously examining the cards. It could place a black seven on two different spaces, and the choice would make or break the game.

Luna shrugged, her amusement fading. She’d seen stranger. Grinning goofily, she gave it a polite nod before stepping past. The nightmare was holding Cadence’s attention, and Luna felt it would be rude to interrupt. She’d try again tomorrow.

Step by step, until Luna felt the dream fade behind her. A glance back showed the degenerates were already lost to sight, and the card player had made its decision. With a quick movement, it flipped the black seven onto its new spot with a “Slap.”

Luna turned in an instant, her good humor replaced by adrenaline. The not-dream was still there, obliviously playing its game.

“Slap.”

Luna bolted towards it, but the world vanished. Cadence had awoken, doubtless horrified.

Yet not half as horrified as Luna. She floated in the middle space a moment, mind racing with useless theories as a chill worry gripped her heart. No extra thought was spared for Cadence. She would be fine, and Shining Armor would probably love the free cuddle.

“Shining Armor… hm.” Luna frowned, thinking. What if…

No, it was silly to think Shining Armor might have the same dream, or that the player might be there. That’s not how dreams worked.

She dove into his mind all the same, knowing she had moments before Cadence woke him. It was worth a look. Anything for answers.

They were lizard-like creatures, though they had pony minds of reason and kindness. Those minds knew only despair as they fired massive cannons, aimed at a foe Luna could not see in the blackness.

No, it was the blackness. Some fled, others just sat down and cried as the black tendrils fell upon them. Their cannons were a mile tall, yet stood as mere toys before the monster. It knocked them aside with lazy swings, pressing on to the city behind.

Then it was gone. Cadence had yanked Shining Armor from his sleep, probably to his relief.

No relief for Luna. Just more questions, and a rising fear. The card player hadn’t shown in this one, but it was far too similar for her to rest easy.

It could still be a coincidence. Hoping to catch her lucid, Luna leaped to Twilight Sparkle’s dreams. Maybe the young princess would have some insight that–

Feathered aliens bowed before the advancing tendrils, shivering and weeping. They praised it, slaughtered their newborn for it, and slew those who refused. All in the hope of mercy.

Their prayers were but terrified begging, unheeded as the massive coils fell upon them. They turned and murdered each other, fixated on the notion that enough blood would appease it…

Luna reeled outwards, struck by the mindlessness of it all. She fell into the library’s other resident – the young Spike, curled up in his basket.

Different, yet it was the same in so many ways. A white-suited president who launched continent-shattering missiles, provoking his foes to respond in kind. He laughed as the world exploded around him, and his shadow danced and grew…

Luna charged, certain beyond thought that he was the solitaire player. But his form simply broke apart as she connected. This one was just a dream-cloud.

She leapt to another dream, fear driving her faster. She wasn’t seeking answers anymore. Luna just wanted to find a good dream, or even an empty one. Anything to show that this wasn’t so bad. Just a string of coincidences.

Rarity’s house was nearby. What nightmares could possibly haunt the innocent dressmaker?

“You’re sure this will work?” A man in a sharp grey uniform glared at the white-suited stranger. But behind that glare laid enough greed to douse his suspicion.

“Of course,” said the stranger, and they dropped his gurgling black gas into the enemy cities. The world was conquered, yet the gas settled into the sky. Time passed, and the man in grey ripped his gilded collar, gasping and gagging as the last good air was eaten away.

Drunkenly, Luna shot upwards and let herself be drawn into the dream of that cheerful prankster, Rainbow Dash. Maybe there would be nothing. Maybe–

They had no hair, but were beautiful all the same. Lithe and fair, gathered around a tree so huge that Canterlot Mountain could be held within. Their cities were among its branches – bright, beautiful, glittering.

The tree was on fire. Claws had emerged from the great black form, tearing into the cities. The beast was wrapped around the tree, slowly pulling it to the ground while its mouths ate at the wood. The fair people had turned their swords on each other – not out of fear, but mercy. The tree was their everything. Better to die without seeing it fall.

“Where is he?” Luna growled, shooting back downwards into… Pinkie Pie? “Oh no, not her…”

At least this one was quiet. Beings of gears and rusted iron stood atop a snowy mountain that had once been their castle. They carried stone spears and searched for oil, but their hunt was at its end. They had finally rusted in place, doomed to silently watch the thing that blocked out the sky…

There was certainty in Luna’s heart, and that certainty had eaten the fear. This thing – whatever it was, wherever it was – was an enemy.

If it was coming, it would meet its end. Her adrenaline rose as she dove into Applejack’s dream, seeking some greater sign of the fiend.

The biped alien had a torn trench coat, and his arm was bleeding. But he held a revolving pistol stoically towards the thing in white, a hero’s heart beating hard in his chest.

“Why?” he asked. “Why us? Do you hate us?” The fiend shook its head, and the hero’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Is this just some sick game to you?”

It smiled. Their shadows touched, the gun fired, and the dream ended.

Luna shook her head, finally discarding the foolish dream-jumping. If the thing itself was only in one dream at a time, she could spend all night searching without success.

“Tia,” she breathed, and sped her consciousness towards Canterlot. Tia definitely needed to know about this.

She came to her own dreams, already inured to the worst. Another world of ash and ruin. Another people lost to madness and despair.

The details hardly mattered. Luna ran straight through the panicking crowds and falling towers, ignoring them for the dream-clouds they were. She drew in a deep breath, about to rouse her body from its slumber.

But then she heard it. The quiet, innocent, “Slap.”

There were too many clouds around her. Too many fleeing, screaming forms of strangers she could never save. No sign of the culprit.

Luna gave a challenging, snarling grin. If it was taunting her, it made a mistake. She had the power here.

Her horn glowed a starry black, and Luna slammed a hoof into the illusory concrete. The land erupted around her like dust in a shock wave. The mobs and buildings, and the tendrils that lay over them, all were blasted to nothingness. Her wave stretched and expanded, overrunning the doomed world. The countless dream-clouds were gone, and she was left in an empty sky.

Luna had never done that before, not even to end those dreams she cut short. It would be months before she could dream again.

But it was worth it. Every mote of a dream was gone from this place, and yet she was not alone.

It – whatever it was – was here. A patch of wood flooring held its seat and desk, floating some miles away.

The distance mattered nothing to Luna. She channeled raw, violent magic into her horn and shot it outwards. The beam’s center was a starry blue, with white lightning crackling around it. A hasty blow, but entirely worthwhile if she could catch it off-guard.

“It’s never that easy,” Luna grumbled, aware of its futility as the shot passed right through. She felt no resistance. No physical hit, no magical shield or counter-blow.

A pensive frown marked her face. Even if the thing was insubstantial, she should have felt something. Some brief connection with whatever magic or un-magic it possessed. Instead, it was as though the thing wasn’t even there.

It didn’t so much as acknowledge the blow. It just kept its attention on the desk, where presumably the cards were still laid out.

Luna watched, braced to dodge at an instant’s notice. She crouched as its hand rose, but it was just holding a card. It slapped back to the table, echoing the familiar sound across the empty space.

A long minute passed, silent save for the gentle turning of cards. Luna glared at the thing, mentally daring it to accept her challenge. Part of her hoped that it would – a literal age had passed since she’d fought in this realm, and some feral side of her relished the chance to do so again.

That warrior-voice bid her strike once more, but Luna resisted. There was no reason to think a second blow would be less futile than the first.

And… Luna was curious. As horrible as those nightmares were, this card-player had shown no aggression. She didn’t sense any wickedness in it, though it eluded all senses but sight and sound. Like it was a character in a movie, existing nowhere but on its screen.

Slowly, still wary, Luna flew closer. If it was harmless, fine. If it wasn’t, she would need to learn everything she could.

A little closer, and then a little more. She’d only glanced at it in Cadence’s dream, recalling little but the suit and hat. Looking far more closely now, Luna saw that its form was queerly tall, and even its shoes and buttons were white. Its gloved hands had two more joints than a monkey’s or dragon’s, stretching its fingers to be nearly as long as its head. The desk and floor were plain – so plain that they seemed a mere drawing, with uniform brown where even the shadows should fall.

It looked at her.

Luna gave a start, half-dodging the attack that never came. No strike, no verbal challenge. Just a look.

But Luna couldn’t say what it used to see her. The face was black as a funeral shroud, and shiny as though wet. It was featureless – no eyes, no chin or nose. There wasn’t even a mark where these things should be.

She swallowed hard, noting that it was not quite faceless. It tilted its head, changing the light's reflection off its rubbery skin. The motion highlighted two narrow dimples around the absent mouth.

They and the jaw moved appropriately as it spoke, like it was a creature wearing a mask. “Hello.”

The voice was cheerily spoken, as if to a well-loved friend. Luna’s, in turn, was guarded as she crossed the last few steps between them. She held herself well, determined to show her own strength. “Stranger, I am Princess Luna. Guardian of the dreams you have intruded upon. What are you called?”

It tilted its head again, seeming to consider before giving its response. “‘Absalom’ will do. It is what I was calledSCREAMED by the last world.”

Luna stepped back, guard raised as new voices spoke. When Absalom’s friendly words reached “called,” a shrill, bird-like screech offered, “Screamed,” seeming to come from its head as well. And a third voice emerged after them, giving itself in an urgent whisper.

Absalom moved, but it was only to flip the next set of three cards from the deck.

The voices were startling, but Luna’s visage remained stern and imperial. “Absalom. Why are you moving through my ponies’ dreams?”

The top card was a red jack. No fit, so it flipped the next three. “Moving? I’m not moving.”

Luna opened her mouth to counter the claim, but Absalom’s next, casual words got out first. “Look up.”

Wary, Luna gave it a gauging look before obliging. She meant to just take a quick glance, but the sight arrested her.

Rather than more of the empty dream-sky, it was as though she was gazing into space. So much distance stretched out before her vision, going on and on and on, all in perfect clarity. Yet it wasn’t the empty space that greeted her, but whole worlds. Cities and tendrils, and breaking continents…

And in each one, a pony. Sometimes in the midst of the chaos, sometimes watching from above. Luna saw the bird aliens from Twilight’s dream, and realized the truth of it. “You’re in all of the dreams. At once.”

“This is a fixed point, right here,” Absalom said in its smooth, genteel voice. “I’m not in ‘a’ dream, I’m in ‘dream.’ Don’t ask me how, I know I don’t care. I just know that peoples’TOYS’ dreams always get like this tonight.”

Ignored the bird-voice’s scream, Luna asked the obvious question. “What happens tonight?”

Another set of three were drawn, and still no matches for any of the face-up cards. Absalom seemed to twitch in annoyance, more focused on the losing game than the talk. “I finish my trip. I arrive.”

“On this world?” Luna asked sharply.

“On this reality,” Absalom distractedly corrected her, flipping another set. “Or whatever. Dimension? Plane? Those words aren’t exactly right, but they’re as close as your tongue can get. Think of it like a plant, if you will. The dreams are the topsoil. The last layer before I sprout.”

Luna grimaced. What little doubt she had of this thing’s danger was gone. Here was a tremendous threat, and it wouldn’t be contained easily.

Still, she resisted waking up. This Absalom was talkative, and he might not be so conversant when he emerged. Maybe he would let slide a clue, or some hint of a weakness.

“Are those your memories?” she asked. “Those dreams. Did you destroy those worlds?”

“Yes to both,” he grumbled, flipping another three cards to no benefit.

“Why?”

The voice grew droll. “Why do you think?”

Luna blinked, wrong-hoofed by the question. Absalom gave her another eyeless glance and went on. “Are you expecting a beast, mindlessly eating the universe? Or perhaps some age-old planHA, slowly being brought to fruition?”

Lune shrugged, goading it forward.

“It is nothing so interesting.” Absalom readily went on. Though her outside remained impassive, Luna’s heart gave a predatory grin. Ramble away, fiend. I’ll use it all against you.

But the good feeling died with his next words. “I like doing it,” he said casually, as if comparing tea flavors. “It’s fun. Like a game.”

“Game!?” Luna asked, too shocked to say anything else. All that... all that death and destruction…

Her mind reeled, and she looked up again. How many worlds were there? A thousand? All gone, for the sake of petty amusement? It wouldn’t change anything if Absalom had a greater scheme, or an evil cause it was fighting for. But at least it would be sane.

This wasn’t sane. This thing was mad. Its madness was obvious even now, with its attention so casually returned to the cards. Those too-long fingers were steepled in their white gloves, once more perched over the draw topped with the red jack.

“A game,” the thing confirmed. “Skill, luck, and strategy. One side wins, the other does not.”

Absalom’s hand swiped over the stack, plucking a red three from beneath the jack and setting it under a four.

“You cheated.”

“Hm?” Absalom looked at her again, blank face somehow feigning innocence.

Luna smiled fiercely at it – at this thing she would kill right now, if only she could.

“You’re only allowed to play the top card. You definitely cheated.”

Absalom looked down at the table, seeming to eye where she called him out on. A long second passed, and its dimples pulled upwards. Such a pony-like expression on that blank face, and Luna knew exactly what it meant.

It was smiling.

“I like to play,” Absalom said, this time sounding as much like the bird as the gentleman. “But I don’t lose.”

“You will,” Luna snarled, still grinning violently. She slammed a hoof down on its desk, her nose scant inches from the faceless face.

“You will lose,” she said again. And she believed it, for she had no choice. “We’ll strike you down. We’ll save ourselves, and all who you would have slain after us.”

Absalom gave no immediate reaction. It settled back in its chair, leaning away from Luna. Slender fingers reached into its jacket and pulled out a silver pocket watch.

With a click, the face opened. The monster seemed to glance at the time, and smiled again. “By all means. Show me your righteousness, your unconquerable conviction. You’ll soon find that it’s no substitute for power.”

Luna gave a snort, her savage grin not faltering in the slightest. “You’ve never met my kind before. For ponies, conviction is power.”

Absalom’s smile widened. Luna swore there was a hairline tear forming between the dimples, but she only saw it for an instant.

Then the watch snapped closed. The dreams ended at once as Luna and the rest of Equestria tumbled into wakefulness.

Author's Notes:

Writing surreal horror... is not something I have much experience with. Hopefully it wasn't painful.

Thanks for reading.