“I hope our presence is not an unwelcome one.” The voice speaking reverberates throughout the room. No, it’s not the room it’s reverberating in; it’s my mind. I know that voice! The owner was somepony I remember speaking to.

A momentary twinge of mental pain passes through my mind as the memory returns to me as a stricken look crosses my face. Yes, that is definitely Princess Luna, but somehow, I don’t think she’s just visiting for fun. If Princess Luna is here in an official capacity, that means Princess Celestia is probably also here. If Celestia is here...

Twilight must be able to read my face, or mind, or something. Seriously, it’s almost like the moment the thought crosses my mind, she looks straight at me. “Don’t worry Soren,” she reassures. “The Princesses know your situation, and there aren’t going to be any sanctions imposed on you.” There’s a wistful tone in her voice, as though she wished she could say the same for herself.

“I’m not worried about sanctions,” I shoot back quietly. “You’re Celestia’s protege, and quite possibly the closest thing she has to a daughter. Did you forget I tried to kill you? She’s likely to banish me to the moon, or stick me in a prison... or stick me in a prison on the moon!”

“My goodness, no!” a regal voice sounds out from near the door. Wrenching my gaze from Twilight, I see both Princesses Celestia and Luna standing in the doorway, having let themselves in. The amused looks on their faces leaves me feeling rather off-balance. “That’s the second time in the last five years I’ve heard a pony express such expectations.” She stifles a good-natured giggle. “Where on Earth do ponies get these ideas?”

I can’t help but stare for a few moments. Instead of my impending doom, I’m greeted by heartfelt laughter. This is not at all what I expected. Yet still, the Princesses are watching me, as if honestly expecting an answer. “It was something Twilight said a long time ago, back when Fluttershy borrowed Philomena.” I let out a nervous titter before looking to Twilight. She has this look of disbelief on her face, wondering how in the blazes I know any of this. “Twilight, when this is all over, you should really ask Lyra to show you ‘the show’.”

It’s the most quiet thing in the world, but I can just barely hear her mumble, “When this is all over...” There’s just this sad, sightless look on her face.

“She should really show everypony—I mean you, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and of course you would both be welcome as well, your majesties,” I say, attempting to lighten the mood. “Hay, between the you and the Princesses, somepony might actually figure out how the show is possible. I’m sure all of you would find it rather fascinating.”

Unfortunately, my attempts at lightening the mood fail miserably. Instead of brightening at the prospect of trying to better understand the relationship of the two realms, she only retreats towards Celestia, particularly when I mention her friends. More and more I'm getting the impression that I am missing something or misreading the atmosphere in the room.

Before I have the opportunity to rescind my ramblings, however, Princess Celestia clears her throat, snapping my attention to the royalty. “Soren, I should hope you have some idea or expectation of why Luna and I are here,” she says softly. “From what I saw of your creativity, and what Luna has told me from her glimpses into the workings of your mind in your dream, you are a bright individual.”

I glance haltingly at the Princess of the Night, not liking the idea that my mind has been read. “Since I’m pretty sure now that you’re not here to personally arrest me for attempted murder, assault with a surprisingly deadly weapon, and disturbing the peace, I can only fathom that Your Highnesses have taken a personal interest in my well being.” Given how sure I feel, it wouldn’t surprise me that I don’t sound the least bit sure. “Since I have yet to meet your ‘specialist’, I am guessing that one of Your Majesties is the specialist.”

At an approving look from Princess Luna, I decide to continue. “Seeing as aside from self-inflicted stupidity, there’s nothing else wrong with me physically,” I reason. “Therefore it has to do with the whole memory redundancy thing. I imagine that because one of your domains, Princess Luna, is the realm of dreams, magic pertaining to the mind is also one of your areas of expertise. Therefore I can only assume that you have the power to help preserve what remains of my mind, yes?”

The three of them stare dumbfoundedly at me, as though trying to figure out how I could come to the right answer with some sort of non-pony logic or something. I meet their stares with an equally confused look. “What? It’s the sort of thing I’d write if I were the one writing a universe.”

The writer’s pun seems to have gone over even Twilight’s head, but given the rather dour mood, it’s not surprising. Celestia has this rather curious expression that shouts ‘not sure if planning world domination or just trying to be funny’. I’m not even sure where to begin reading Luna’s expression.

A good minute passes before anypony says anything. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly depending how you look at it—the first one to speak is the very one I’d singled out as the one who is likely to save me. “Shall we begin then?”

Just like that? No explanation of what is to happen or anything. Wow, I always thought Luna was the blunter of the two, but this is pushing it. “What does ‘beginning’ entail, if I may ask?”

The Lunar Princess gives me a curious look. “The mind is a most peculiar thing,” she explains. “Ponies can study it for years and never firmly grasp its innermost mechanisms, yet still they all postulate that one’s dreams are a window into their mind. What I propose is a linked dream state.”

It’s a fair point, but for a short moment I’m almost ready to ask how that could be if she shaped everypony’s dreams. Thankfully, a pang of common sense slaps me and points out that she would have to shape the dreams of too many individual ponies. No, she would probably just dart from dream to dream and help those who are suffering. In all likelihood, Luna only shaped my dream in the loosest fashion, before she entered to glean any insight from the situation.

I’m also a bit hesitant about dreams right now. While it was fine when I woke up today, I was also not aware that I’d lost my mind at the time. There’s this lingering fear that if I go to sleep now, I’m going to be confronted with horrific imagery, manifestations of my guilt, or—Celestia forbid—another of Lyra’s erotic memories. Can you blame me with the record I’ve had with sleep?

After taking the time I mull this over, I look into the diarch’s eyes and nod. “Let’s find out just how far the rabbit hole really goes, shall we?”

Floating formlessly in the infinite blackness, I can’t help but feel a little confused. Luna had said we would be delving into my mind, so where in the hay am I? I know I can be really scatterbrained at times, but I swear I’m not empty-headed like this. I’m actually kind of insulted.

“There is no reason to be alarmed, Soren,” a voice calls out, seemingly from nowhere. “Nor was any insult intended. You are presently in the intermediary realm between dreams and wakefulness.”

Well then, looks like the princess is here too, and she can read my thoughts. Saves me having to speak I guess. It makes sense that if this is indeed some sort of linked dream that there would be no predetermined shape to me or the world around me. Still, I suppose it’s better if I separate individual thought from directed thought, and think aloud.

“So is this something akin to some sort of hypnotic trance?”

There’s an amused sort of laughter emanating from behind—or as close to behind as you can get when you’re completely formless—me. “It is closer in likeness to a lucid dream, but the principle upon which we began is not too far off from hypnosis.”

Huh. Lucid dreams, huh? Never had much luck with those. There’s been the odd painfully vivid dream, but never a lucid one. Not that I particularly dwell on it.

“While that is rather a shame that you have not had the pleasure, we must not become distracted from our purpose.” Luna’s mental tone is sharp but not scathing. “Due to the nature of this state, there is an issue of time. Time moves slower here than it does in the waking realm. We must preserve the most of you that we can before the exchange spell elapses and you are returned to your own body.

“We must act quickly and accordingly. Firstly, we need to construct a dreamscape,” she instructs. “Only then will we be able to interact tangibly with your mind. As I am only your guide, you must do the honors of giving form to this reality.”

Give it form, huh? Well then... Dream, I command you in the name of Princess Luna to take form. No? Please? Ugh... That didn’t work.

“Simply imagine a setting and it will take form.”

“Oh! Yeah, that makes a lot more sense, this being some weird cousin to a lucid dream and all. Lets see, a place...”

That’s as far as I get before a reality begins to take the form of an oddly-shaped room. Four of the walls, the floor, and the ceiling are all a beautiful black volcanic glass. In spite of this, the room is brightly lit, seemingly illuminated by the many large pearls inlaid in the floor and ceiling.

What catches me most by surprise however are the two extra walls in the room. The two parallel walls do not match the volcanic glass motifs of the rest of the room; instead, each wall looks like a silken tapestry—one aquamarine and bearing a golden lyre, and the other midnight blue bearing a silver crescent moon upon a black splotch. Automatically, my memories flash back involuntarily to the room from that nightmare.

“This is certainly one of the more interesting dreamscapes I’ve visited.” Princess Luna chimes in. Out of sheer knee-jerk reaction, my gaze darts toward the wall bearing her cutie-mark. The spot bearing her cutie mark begins to ripple, and a regal-looking onyx door pushes its way through the silken wall. “Did you intend for this, or is this a product of your subconscious?”

“I have no idea.” I can only stare dumbly as the door swings open, revealing a human girl, not much older than twelve. Her mid-length light-azure hair is a stark contrast to her alabaster skin, but markedly co-ordinated with her cyan eyes and the frilly cobalt nightgown covering her body. Can’t forget that darling little obsidian tiara, either. Frankly, it reminds me too much of one particular artist’s work. “Oh dear Celestia! Why are you human and why do you look that way?” I can’t help but blurt it out. Why did it have to be loli-Luna?

“I only took on the appearance that seemed most befitting of the situation. There was one readily available for my use in your surface memories.” she says pointedly, one eyebrow arched. SWEET CADANCE, NOT THE CLOP MEMORIES! “What is this loli you worry of?”

I am not discussing internet pornography with a diarch. No way in Tartarus... “Wait, you said befitting of the situation?” I muse aloud. Without even thinking, I bring a hand up to stroke my hairless chin in contemplation. Wait, hand? I’m a human again! I can’t help but look down at my body. Unsurprising or not, my consciousness has definitely taken a more feminine appearance. Why did it have to be the tartan kilt and dress shirt of my high-school’s female uniform though? “Nevermind. So, what do we do now?”

The small Princess smiles thoughtfully and folds her arms in front of herself, seemingly relishing in the sensations of being bipedal. “The first step would be to make contact with Lyra’s memory imprint, and reason with it.” I can tell by her curious expression that she misinterpreted my look of shock at her statement. “In a mind-delving like this, it is only natural for a unicorn’s memory imprint to take on a manifestation that can easily be conversed with.

“Before my banishment, it was a regular practice for unicorn scholars to commune with their memory imprints as a form of enhanced memory recall.” she explains, a tone of wistfulness creeping into her voice, as though she is speaking of a lost art. “The denizens of our minds remember everything, and can easily be one’s closest of allies, or their worst enemies.”

A chill of fear creeps into the back of my mind, and the temperature in the room perceptibly lowers. “You don’t say...” Oh no! If what she says is true, I’m going to have one very upset brain-ghost on my hooves.

“Fear not, for she can bring you to no harm here.” Luna soothes, catching my surface thoughts. “Regardless of what may have happened inadvertently in the past, she is more likely afraid of you than you are of her.”

That isn’t as reassuring as it should be. Then again, I pretty much accidentally initiated a feud with Lyra’s memory imprint, and then lashed out when she tried to overwrite me. Now the Princess is telling me we must find her. What comes next? Asking her to please hold off on rewriting me so that I can return to my body as intact as possible?

“Exactly.”

Reflexively, I cover my face with a palm and sigh inwardly. I’m really not going to get used to having her being able to read my mind here, even if it’s just because I’m broadcasting on all frequencies. It’s not like there’s the option to ask her to stop reading my mind, either, because I’m pretty sure we’re in some sort of mind-meld here.

“Pardon if this sounds presumptuous, your Highness, but perhaps it would be better if I say little during this encounter.” Inadvertently, I find myself thinking more of the aquamarine unicorn. “If nothing else, it might save us any time-consuming misunderstandings. So how do we find her?”

Glancing toward the aquamarine wall, a wave of wry humor washes through me. As though responding to my mere question, the area around the cutie mark begins to ripple, presenting a door. Unlike the time in the dream or subspace highway, however, the door is not a heavy iron door befitting of a prison, but instead an elegant french door, its panes of glass revealing only blackness beyond—definitely not the sterile white corridor or the frightening meaty one either.

Unlike Princess Luna’s emergence however, the door does not swing open so much as it explodes. From the darkness beyond erupts a familiar aquamarine unicorn, as though thrown. As the physical manifestation of Lyra’s memory imprint crashes to the floor and I stare at her prone form, a pang of regret floods my heart.

Compared to how I probably looked in the hospital, this instance of Lyra looks absolutely wretched. Her mane and coat are both terribly disheveled, and her eyes are completely bloodshot. That’s not why she looks wretched, however. Segments of her form are simply... gone! It’s like somepony stuck her in Photoshop, and dragged the eraser tool across portions of her body, leaving her completely see-through in places. One hoof floats completely free from her torso, while one of her flanks is just not there. The worst part is her face, however. Half of her jaw and cheek no longer exist.

The poor thing looks up at me and lets out a piercing wail, attempting weakly to scramble to her hooves. All at once she begins screaming incoherently, her every cry echoing painfully in my own mind. There’s so much hate and fear in those cries that it breaks my heart. I did this to it—to her. I cannot help but shrink away from her knowing this fact.

Chancing a glance to the Princess doesn’t do anything to bolster my spirit. She’s staring at the embodiment of Lyra’s memories with a look akin to unfettered horror. Her own eyes part from the sight for only a moment, to look at me. The light in her eyes all but screams, “What sorcery is this? What have you done!?”

To my surprise, however, she doesn’t speak reproachfully at all. “To damage a unicorn’s memory imprint like this is no easy feat,” she says softly, approaching the damaged image of Lyra cautiously. “Few magics can do even this much damage. Lacking in any magical expertise or strength, I can only fathom that you had a very strong desire to live.”

Embarrassment washes over me as memories of that dream so long ago flood my mind. “Sparing you the vulgarity—not that I could repeat the words at this point—I believe my sentiment was that I was going to take her with me if I had to die.”

Luna nods, crouching down within reach of Lyra. Much like a person would offer her hand to an unfamiliar animal to smell, the Princess does the same in attempts to assure the avatar that we mean no harm. “There there, little one. We do not wish to hurt you,” she soothes.

The not-quite-Lyra gives the Princess a wary glance before nuzzling her hand with the still-existent side of her face. “Please, Princess Luna! You have to save me!” she sobs. “This body snatcher won’t give me my body back. It was so horrible to me, and it made me do a terrible thing!”

I’m not going to lie; I feel like I’m a steaming pile of manure right now. Through all of this, I never once considered that Lyra’s memory imprint could actually be aware. Back when I was hearing her voice, there was no doubt in my mind that I was just suffering from stress, especially after she stopped talking—or did I simply stop listening?

“Ease your mind, child, and know peace.” Luna croons softly, running her fingers reassuringly through Lyra’s mane. “She did not intend you harm. Do you not remember the willing exchange the two of you had undergone?” The unicorn shook her head. “She only attempted to defend herself when your body began to attempt to overwrite her after a head injury. Soren knew not what she did at the time.”

“But... I’m broken now!” Lyra’s avatar sobs some more. “How can I complete my purpose the way I am? I must complete my purpose!”

Luna shakes her head, still smiling softly. “No, you don’t.” She rests a fingertip on the end of Lyra’s muzzle. “When this is all over, your mind—your real one—will be returned to you and all will be well and whole once more.”

Unfortunately, Lyra doesn’t seem to be having any of it. She’s peering past the Princess, glaring at me with hateful distrust. “I still don’t trust her.”

Before Luna can say anything, I kneel on the floor and bow, not unlike a Muslim’s prayer towards Mecca. “Please, Lyra. You have my sincerest apologies for my accidental intrusion and the following assault. It was never my intention to hurt you, but please do not overwrite more of my mind before the swap elapses.” I plead, my voice cracking. “You have my word that if I in any way betray you or harm you further, Princess Luna herself will purge my very being, and nothing will remain.” From over her shoulder Luna gives me a sour look, but makes no attempt to contradict me. “So please, let me retain some semblance of my identity before this all ends.”

The Lyra avatar turns her head at such an angle that the entire lower portion of her face is completely see-through. Her brows are furrowed in thought, so she is at the very least considering it. Occasionally, she will look in my direction and then quickly looks back away. If I didn’t know better, I might say that she’s seriously considering this. “Fine,” she says at last.

Luna jumps up excitedly, causing her gown to rise and momentarily reveal her bare behind—why isn’t she wearing panties? She turns to me and claps her hands in front of her. “Alas, our business here is concluded,” she says, beaming. “All in all, this was almost too easy. For now, rest—both of you. When you next wake, all will be well.”

Author's Notes:

No comment tonight.

Re-edited 12 July 2017