“What are gods, you ask?” The Essence of Night Who Might Be made a sweeping motion with his foreleg and an unknown number of stars twinkled into existence in the sky overhead. “Just beings with different phases and states of life, Dim. Nothing more and nothing less. Why, some of them were made in a factory, Dim… a place called Skyreach. Some were created with a purpose in mind… purpose-based beings. Others were created as weapons. But the point is, they were created. All too often, gods start out as what you would call disgusting primitives, but then have their horizons forcibly expanded. They are made to see beyond a limited mortal scope, and as such, they become something else.”

Dim also waved his foreleg and in response, a few stars twinkled to life overhead.

“There is always a new threshold to cross, a new plane of existence to become aware of. For those who cross that first initial threshold, for those who imagine a bigger world than what can be initially observed, there are many names… many perceptions of this awareness. Some call it awakening divinity. Some call it becoming enlightened. Nirvana is a popular name, and so is spiritual awakening. Many names and many perceptions exist to attempt to describe this first elevated state of being. But make no mistake… it is merely a state of being and there are always new doors of perception to force open.”

“So I could pass beyond this frail mortal form?” Dim looked down at the soil and imagined grass growing. In a short time, it did, and he imagined it to be both cool and inviting. When he sat down in it, he found it to be so, and he gave careful thought to the lesson he was giving to himself.

“You could.” The Essence of Night Who Might Be stared skyward and arranged stars into meaningful constellations. “You could, and there are many ways it could be done. Contemplating one’s navel is popular. A great many zebras ascend this way, through animancy. They place their soul into some mask, or some magical trinket, or some meaningful item that they then pass on to their beloved descendents. This is their magic, Dim. It does little to benefit them in their own lives, but it does much to enrich and empower their descendents.”

“Weaver Indigo…” Dim breathed the words and closed his eyes. “He was a zebra possessed by spirits and he gave his life to cast a spell.”

“Yes, Dim. Weaver Indigo ascended and took on a new form, a form that fulfilled purpose. His life… his essence… everything he ever was or would be, it transcended the mediocrity of flesh and became something greater… something that would serve other Weavers. He became just one more thread in their shared tapestry, a tiny piece to a much greater whole. All of the Weavers are now stronger for his sacrifice. Mysterious zebra magic gained a tiny bit of potency for his contribution.”

This gave Dim a great deal to think about and he found that he prefered his own company. The Essence of Night Who Might Be was the best part of himself, the best version of himself, the pony he wished that he could be. Dim gave careful thought to everything said, every word spoken, and felt fiery inspiration within his soul.

“Recently, I awoke. I was touched by something, but I know not what. Every time I try to recall it, all I can hear and remember is the fluttering of wings… and a kiss. But the details are so hazy. I want to do better… be better… but to be the best version of myself… I—” Here, Dim faltered, and no matter how he tried, he could not find the words.

“You wish to be like Weaver Indigo. To leave behind the best you have to offer for others, so that they might benefit.” The Essence of Night Who Might Be cast his wise expression upon his counterpart and began stroking his magnificent goatee. “Death is a pesky annoyance for most, but there are ways around it. Many are content to simply die and then go on to whatever lies beyond. But others… they wish to keep going.”

“This body of mine will not last forever. How do I protect what is precious to me?” Dim studied himself, he watched himself as he stroked his chin, and for the first time, he thought of others beyond himself. “There will always be some evil that needs to be purged, some foulness that needs to be burned out of existence. How do I keep going? I am not content to simply die and pass on to whatever comes next. I wish to continue.”

“Dangerous words, Dim.”

“I have much to atone for.” Flabbergasted by his own honesty, Dim sat in awe of the words that had just escaped his lips. “Sins against myself most of all.”

“A part of you will always exist in this dream realm, Dim. Long after that body is gone, you will persist. You will become one of the forces of governance in this place.”

“That is not enough.” Dim turned his eyes skyward and watched as the stars danced overhead. “It is not enough to be passive.”

The Essence of Night Who Might Be sighed, shook his head, and let out a chuckle. “Then you must find a way, Dim. That is the test of worthiness. If you wish to be more, then do more. There are many gates, many means. Find the one most suited to your talents and then find the means to progress beyond it. Devote your life to it. Delve into the forbidden mysteries.”

“Pyrotheosis.” Saying the word, Dim conjured a wisp of flame that he then played with in much the same way a foal played with clay. “Sometimes, I can hear the flames speaking to me, but I do not yet understand their language. They have a strange voice… a chorus… I cannot make sense of it.”

“Those are the voices of madness, Dim. They only know hunger and consume. Fire makes no plan, it has no grand design, it holds no fantastic intelligence. Because of what it is, it can only go about in a mad rush, consuming all it comes into contact with in a desperate bid for self-preservation. Fire has no hope, no aspirations, it has no industry. As a collective entity, it knowns only to destroy and to devour.”

“Then I must become acquainted with the language of madness,” Dim replied to himself. “Pyrotheosis.”

“This is but one gate among many. Be warned, Dim. Perhaps those voices you hear in the flames are those foolish enough to have gone before you. In crossing over, you might become just one more voice among many, luring in the next fool with a penchant for arson.”

“If that is indeed the case, then I must succeed where others have failed. I am a Dark. The impossible and improbable is my nature.”

“Dim, this is the way of madness, and perhaps, not the best way to ascend. Perhaps something more aligned with order might be better… it might welcome you. Draw you in rather than consume you.”

“Anarchy is the last light of our fading hope.”

“Damn you!” The Essence of Night Who Might Be lost his patience. “Must you embrace chaos so willingly? Your body is given to chaos, that cannot be changed, but your essence… ME… we… us… we can still embrace harmony. There is still hope for us. Can’t you see that? In this place of dreams, anything is possible.”

“I do not seek hope for myself,” Dim said, explaining himself. “But for others. Is flame not also a beacon? A light for others? Since my awakening, I have been keenly aware of other possibilities. Something restless stirs within me. Some new magic lurks in the corners of my mind. I understand the flames in some new way… the urge to consume… to devour… I can sympathise with it. I hunger—”

“That magic is best left alone, Dim. Delve into it at your own peril. It will be your undoing.” The Essence of Night Who Might Be turned his head and focused upon Dim.

“What is it and why do I have it?” Dim asked. “You just said to delve into the forbidden mysteries. Is this not a forbidden mystery?” While speaking, he saw himself, his counterpart, grow more frustrated.

“It is not a power you should have—”

“Why then, do I have it?”

The Essence of Night Who Might Be turned away and let out a groan of irritation. Dim waited, hoping for some answer, but it seemed that no response to his query was forthcoming. In his current absent-minded state, the flames he had been playing with poofed out of existence, but the stars he created overhead somehow persisted.

Dim thought of the flapping of wings, a sound and sensation that he could not quite remember, and of the kiss that haunted his mind. Something had changed, something profound, but he wasn’t sure what. Whatever meaning these events had eluded him. Maybe they were just dreams—this was, after all, the dream realm, and he was prone to dream.

“I am too bound by harmony to help you, Dim. When I was created in Skyreach, I was modeled after the Essence of Night. I was crafted from a duplicate template, like all of the others. Even if I wanted to help you… I can’t. I am bound by what made me. Dim, you have more freedom than I do. All I am, everything I am, is a slave to purpose.”

“Then who can help me?” Dim asked, hopeful.

“Seek the Nameless One. She lurks. When next you meet, ask for help.”

“The paper pony?”

“Yes, the paper pony. She who weeps ink. She was there in Skyreach… but… but I can’t remember her. She was there though. She created me. Us. She laid out the contingency plans, the number of which outnumber the stars. At one point, the Nameless One was an agent of harmony and she laboured towards a harmonious ideal. Something changed though. Maybe all of her plans changed her. She went rogue. Adopted a neutral stance. The Nameless One even delved into chaos. If you ask, she might help you, or she might not. The Nameless One is unpredictable.”

After some thinking, Dim knew that he was now humble enough to ask for help. Something had changed, something profound, though he knew not what. Again, the fluttering of wings haunted his mind, and he thought of himself with wings. This was the dream realm, a place where anything was possible. Did he want to be an alicorn? No… no he didn’t. Feathered wings did not suit him… but flames… shadows... intangible things held together and made real by the sheer force of imagination and will, these things tickled his fancy.

“Those are dangerous thoughts, Dim. There is chaos down that path. To reject the harmonious ideal of the perfect equine form—”

“A template for godhood?” Dim saw pain in his counterpart’s eyes and he felt bad for hurting himself. “I’ve never been one for the factory standard.”

“Don’t you think it is time you woke up, Dim?” The Essence of Night Who Might Be smiled, a sight that was somehow sad. “There are things to do.”

“I suppose there are,” Dim replied.

“You have a nation to save, Dim. Get to it.”

“I suppose I will.”

The scent of scrambled eggs roused Dim from his slumber and he opened his eyes. It was night, he could feel it, and the room was lit only by a few candles. A plate of scrambled eggs passed near his nose and the blurry, indistinct shape of Blackbird could be seen. It took some time for his eyes to focus, a task made difficult by the sheer weight of his eyelids.

“Is there anypony in there?” Blackbird asked, her voice low and soft. “Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anypony home?”

Dim tried to nod, but his neck was stiff. Munro came into half-focus beside Blackbird and Dim could see both of them looking at him, worried. For many, waking up to these faces filled with sharp teeth would be terrifying, but he found them comforting. Blackbird was his friend and Munro could be trusted.

Thinking of trustworthiness, Dim became aware that Munro’s fingers were around his neck, holding him upright so that Blackbird could feed him. His body was leaden, fevered, and achy. The spider bites itched something awful and throbbed in the worst way. A powerful thirst left his throat and tongue feeling like dry, cracked leather.

“Munro, pour some tea down in him and let’s see if that helps,” Blackbird said to her companion. “Once we do that, let’s see if we can get him to eat.”

Unable to move, completely helpless, Dim was eager for sustenance.

Author's Notes:

It might help to go back and read the previous chapter. Just saying. There are connections.