A sea of faces stared up at Luna and Zecora. From atop the crest of the valley, with the first rays of pre-dawn light spotlighting them for all to see, the pair cast a sidelong glance at each other. Luna heaved a sigh at her own shocked outburst that had drawn all this attention. Before any of the mules, griffons, young dragons, cows, deer, horses, and much more, could formulate a response, she continued.

"We wish to speak to the dragon known as Oracle," she said, her thunderous voice echoing against the valley walls, which caused a few unwary creatures to be knocked off balance. "Let him come forth, or take us to him."

"Get in line, pony!" shouted one of the dragons nearby, a silver-scaled bipedal teenager with red spikes. He gestured at the entrance to the village of tents that surrounded them, drawing her attention to the fact that they were indeed in some kind of line, leading from the broad road at the valley's entrance, all the way up to the opening of the cave. Several others close to the speaker voiced the same sentiment.

Luna's ear twitched. She disappeared after a quick turquoise spark from her horn, then immediately afterward she was standing at the valley floor, several feet from the dragon. Some of the more timid bystanders jumped and backed away. Zecora, in her silver-and-ebony-feathered griffon form, quickly took flight to join the Princess.

"We do not wish to wait," said Luna, her face rigid, "but we will if we must. However, in either eventuality, we shall not be addressed as 'pony', nor as anything else in the insulting tone thou didst just use."

With Luna more clearly in view now, the dragon could make out her sparkling hoof caps, her shining collar, her starry mane, her unadorned, ebony crown, and the emotional tempest that she was only barely managing to hold back behind her stony eyes.

He glanced furtively at his fellow dragons who were watching, then sneered. "Well, excuse me, Princess of whatever. My dad's very clear on the subject though. Everyone waits their turn, no matter how important they think they are.”

“If thy tone doth not change forthwith,” Luna said as her tail swatted back and forth in aggravation, “we shall consider this a challenge.”

“Oh, that's rich. Your poor little wing is already broken. Let's not risk breaking the rest of you, okay?” The spikes along his spine sprung to attention with the sound of razors grinding against metal.

Luna advanced, the dragon moved to block her way, and Zecora finally came to a landing beside them.

“You must watch your temper,” Zecora said in an urgent whisper, “lest we provoke danger.”

“'Tis not my temper that need be watched.” Luna calmly unbound the magic around one of her metallic shoes, removed it, then hurled it directly into the young dragon's snout. Everyone who was not a dragon immediately backed as far away as they could, while still being able to see the events unfolding. The dragons stood their ground, watching with tensed muscles and wary eyes.

“We are going to the back of the line now,” said Princess Luna in a carefully-restrained voice. “When our business here is concluded, thou and thy seconds will meet us upon the top of that ridge, away from any bystanders. Tell us thy name so that we may know from whence the satisfaction of our honor will come.”

The dragon picked up the shoe and growled. “It's Alexios. Who are you? And when you say 'our' honor, are you talking about your griffon buddy there too?”

“This mouth speaketh on behalf of all citizens of Equestria, so it is proper for its speech to use the royal 'we'. Thy duel will be solely with Luna, Princess of the Night. Our boon companion Ze—Aquitaine—will be our second.”

At the sound of Princess Luna's name, a buzz began to swarm through the crowd.

“You mean Nightmare Moon?” Alexios asked, with much of his arrogance and swagger replaced by a quiet, serious tone. “I've heard stories about you. You're a terrible enemy of our kind, and I look forward to facing you.”

“We shall never again be known by that name,” said Luna, “and the days of evil are behind us. We follow the honorable codes of harmony and chivalry now, and thou shalt soon see their righteousness in action.”

The Princess wrapped her telekinetic aura around her shoe, yanked it out of the dragon's talons, and replaced it on her hoof. Then, without another word, she, and the former griffon noble whom Zecora was magically merged with, turned to walk toward the Lost Valley's entrance. Many stared at them openly, but most contented themselves to go about their business while stealing frequent glances and gossiping with each other. Individuals, families, even entire clans, had all gathered together here at the ancient dragon's lair, once a closely guarded secret. Along the well-trodden path, the two adventurers passed numerous brightly-colored tent stalls, around which Luna's erstwhile audience had begun to reassemble.

“Chickens here!” pitched a burly minotaur as he aggressively held a live chicken out to anyone who wandered by. “Ten bit sacrifice, right here! Give it to the dragon and you'll be able to get a glimpse of months into the future!”

“Five bits for dead!” shouted a competitor, a black-robed horse. “You, sir, are you squeamish about watching a dragon eat a live sacrifice? Have a pre-killed one. Just as good for predicting the future at half the price!”

“Get your interpretations here!” said a tall, skinny horse with a small pair of glasses perched precariously on his muzzle. “If your prophecy was too vague, we'll tell you what it means for three bits!”

Luna's face was as emotionless as she could manage. It took a few minutes of awkward silence, but finally Zecora worked up the nerve to speak.

“Oh, Luna sweet,” she said, shaking her head, “why perform that feat?”

“Look around,” she responded, staring pointedly at a small group of cows who were leading a leashed pig up the road. “This is not right. What should be a holy place hath become a common carnival, wherein petty merchants prey upon the hopes and fears of the commoners. The injustice of it maketh my blood boil. I know I should have stood down, but... I could not. I am sorry. If it be any consolation, the duel will not be to the death.”

“But you could still be harmed,” Zecora exclaimed, “so I am yet alarmed! It is pointless vanity, and to follow through would be insanity.”

“Zecora... I am getting better. Did I force my way to the front of the line? Did I attack the offenders on the spot? No. Thou hast much wisdom for thy years, but thou art not me. My soul cryeth out to live in a pure world of raw magic and unbridled passion, yet it liveth in a world of straw and twigs. Dragons understand some of this.”

She turned her eyes toward the beaked face of her friend, who was already gazing at her with a tenderness that made Luna's heart catch in her throat. “L-Let us speak of other things... I have a question for thee. I have kept it to myself for some time, because I am accustomed to oddities and idiosyncrasies, but it is a topic which may distract me from this barbarous scene. Wherefore dost thou speak in meter and rhyme?”

“It is an important trick,” echoed Zecora's voice along with that of Aquitaine the griffon, “that helps my soul to stick. I practiced for many years, so that I could master my fears. With this mastery came control, and thus my mind stays whole. When a mask I am wearing, it maintains my bearing.”

“Ah, I see,” Luna said. “'Tis like a mnemonic device for thy spirit. Quite clever. But do not others find it suspicious to hear different creatures all speaking in the same manner?”

“So one might conceive, but you see what you believe. As you may well know, much is easy with dark magic in tow.” Zecora immediately clamped her beak shut after saying that. Somewhat to her relief, Luna did not look angry. She rubbed the bags under her eyes, she yawned, and no violent tirade came forth. She continued walking mutely.

Zecora started to question how relieved she should be by Luna's reaction. She ran her talons through the long, silky plumage that adorned her eagle's head, and spoke up again. “If I might also ask something, why do you still speak as an old king?”

Luna, taking note of the time, took a moment to nudge the moon over the horizon when the sun rose opposite. She had to close both of her eyes against the light of dawn, only able to see where she was going by keeping open a tiny slit with one eyelid.

Because Zecora's eyes were not nearly as sensitive, she viewed the scene with a soft intake of breath. The sandy cliffs that surrounded the gorge lit up like formations of amber. Their irregular, slightly translucent shape, combined with the unique angles from which the light came, played subtle tricks with the shadows. Apparitions of jovial and menacing faces from all manner of species manifested. A sheer cliff-face hosted a theater of malformed actors producing a slow, enigmatic play as the sun rose in the sky. Zecora's eyes lit up, and her mind began to race with thought. She reflected on her studies of optics at the University of Timbucktu, trying to calculate the exact techniques used to create these effects. She became so absorbed in the mental exercise that it took her a minute to notice that Luna was answering her earlier question.

“—so of course I can speak otherwise. But I feel it doth honor my mother to remember her in even this small way. I also happen to enjoy the way I sound.”

Zecora laughed, and the edge of Luna's mouth curled upwards unbidden.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” a young male pony's voice interrupted, followed by a deep bow from him. “Please take our place in line.”

Luna looked askance at the caramel-colored unicorn. As she prepared to respond, three more unicorns trotted in to join him—bearing dead chickens. They went down on their knees as well, tipping their horns to her respectfully.

“Nay,” the Princess responded with a frown. “We shall wait our turn.”

“Please, I insist,” the first pony said. “You saved the lives of me and my friends.”

“We did?”

“Yes,” he replied with a tear in his eye. “The night of the earthquake in Starfield, we were on the train bound for Canterlot. So it’s the least we can do to thank you.”

“But it is not the most you can do. We would be more greatly pleased if you returned those chickens and went home.”

The friends shared a look among themselves. Their ears flattened to the sides of their heads. “But why, Your Highness?”

“Tell us first,” Luna said, “why you came here at all.”

“We have friends and family who are serving in the army in the north. I mean, we've prayed to the sun, the moon, and the stars, but with things as they are...”

“We want to be sure,” said another unicorn, who had a scar on his side and a clipped ear. “So we're asking Oracle for his wisdom and protection.”

Luna began to pace back and forth to keep her entire body from shaking. It took her nearly a minute to speak, during which Zecora shared a tiny bit of the newcomers’ dread.

“What can he do for you?” Princess Luna finally said. She stopped them from replying with a cutting motion from her foreleg. “Do not answer that. We shall tell you. Nothing. Prophecy is not a thing which can be bartered, no matter what that accursed sign and these amoral vultures who call themselves merchants say, and he hath no more power to affect what happens to your loved ones than you do. Nay, he hath less, for you could be there by their sides. Right now. Instead, you are here, slaking the lust and greed of others to comfort yourselves. We are ashamed, and you should be as well.” She took a long, ragged breath that made her chest quake. “We shall not command you to return, but reflect on this. Why do you not go to them yourselves?”

All of the group's heads were bowed, and a couple were on the verge of tears.

“We are not warriors, Your Highness,” croaked the stallion with the scar. “And we have already lost so much, to parasprites, gels, timberwolves, Discord, changelings... What use would we be? My special talent is woodcrafting. His is singing. Hers is weaving baskets. What do you want us to do?”

“Listen to me.” Luna stared at each one of them in turn. They gasped as she removed her royal crown and set it carefully to the side. She knelt down so that she would be at eye level with them. “I speak to you now, not as your sovereign, but only as a fellow pony. As you have seen, the world is dangerous, and it becometh more dangerous with each passing night. Perhaps you blame me for this? Or Celestia? Do not answer. It matters not what you think, only what actions you undertake. And what I see is a group of good ponies whose hardships have obscured from them a vital truth.”

Luna's horn glowed, and with its magic she brought one of their chickens over to her. She carefully untwisted its broken neck, then tenderly stroked its feathers.

“The ones on whose behalf you have come are afraid as well,” she continued, returning the chicken to them. “Think you that soldiers do not feel fear? There is no pony who knoweth fear better than the one who fights. I have seen it countless times in the eyes of ponies I have led into battle, and I am sure they have seen it in mine. The first step to combat fear is to share it with those who love you. Forgetting this lesson is what turned me toward darkness...” She stared hard into the lifeless eyes of the small creature she levitated before her.

“After you have shared your fear, there are many paths to take. All ponies are capable of combat. Never think otherwise. Be it with magic, or flight, or the strength of our legs, we can all fight. Those who are able-bodied should seek regular training, regardless of their calling. If circumstances prevent you, or if you simply choose not to, then find another way. Write them. Visit them. Gather money and goodwill to support them. Honor them with every piece of wood you shape, with every aria you sing... with every basket you weave. If they do not return, the community will remember them through you and your actions. No matter what you choose, please, do not let that remembrance be through the deaths of innocent animals. Do not tarnish them with sacrifices to a dragon's greed.”

The ponies she was addressing stood in silence for a long time, transfixed by her words. As she stared at the Princess's luminous mane, the mare with a trio of baskets for a cutie mark spoke.

“But why are you here, Your Highness? Did you come to put a stop to it?”

“I am not sure,” Luna said thoughtfully. “I knew Oracle long ago. Back then this was not a business, but a sacred rite. He gave his prophecies when they were imparted to him by the divine powers that chose him, and he did not require such gaudy sacrifices. On rare occasions, he would ask directly, and sometimes, he would even get a response. I thought it would be the same today, so I came to see if he could tell me aught of a catastrophe that hath befallen some artifacts of mine. Whatever the case may be, I shall not take part in this chicanery. If he will not tell me without my doing so, then I shall go.”

Luna's crown floated back onto her head, then she drew herself up from her crouch to once again stand over a head taller than her subjects. “So what will you do?” she asked.

The friends whispered among each other for a moment. “We will go back.” They all nodded dejectedly. Luna frowned as she watched them turn to leave, heads hanging, tails limp between their legs.

“Hold,” she said. “Before you go, remember that you are doing the right thing. We know it must seem as if you came so far for nothing, but you have not. Tell us your names and where you live, and your Princess will remember you.”

“Alimento at your service,” said the caramel stallion, who had an image of a loaf of bread on his flank.

“Shrubcut,” the wood crafter with the scar said.

“Lily Springseed,” said the basket-weaving mare. “Or just Lily, if it please Your Highness.”

“And I,” said the last pony, whose cutie mark was a golden gate laced with green ivy, “am Old Esquire. I actually only just turned twenty. That's just what my dad was called, and his dad before him, because we've all been household servants, and...” He noticed the facial expressions from the other ponies. “Excuse me. I'm honored to meet you, Princess Luna. These three have no home currently, so they are staying with me in one of my master's mansions. Fancy Pants has donated his estate on Northcolt Road to the homeless, and I perform some minor duties there. I was given leave, but not for this purpose. I wish I had told him the truth now. Maybe he would have stopped us.”

“We believe we know the place thou speakest of, Old Esquire,” Luna said. “Go back there and expect word from us. If not personally, then by letter. In return, however, thou and thy friends must beseech everypony you know not to undertake this same journey. 'Tis far to go for false comfort.”

The quartet thanked her, bowed, then joined the second, less-organized line that was leaving the valley. They glanced back at their Princess many times. Lily waved before being ushered onward by the others.

“There is nothing wrong with false hope,” said Zecora, “if it helps one to cope.”

“Excuse me?” Luna asked, raising a foreleg in surprise. “False hope is a lie, and lies are not harmonious.”

“You had no right to decide from whence their succor is supplied.”

“So thou art completely satisfied with the fact that they purchased a dead animal, killed by these very creatures, for the purpose of receiving blasphemously false fortune?” Luna stepped closer to her griffon-zebra companion, and a few of their neighbors in line started offering to give up their places to others around them.

“If that is what it takes,” Zecora responded, holding her ground. “Your subjects should be free to make mistakes.”

“Do not dare tell me how to rule,” Luna growled. “I was a renowned leader before thy nation even existed!”

“I can only judge the actions I see.” Zecora's griffon wings spread out. “And there are some with which I don't agree.”

“There are more, are there?” Luna asked, bearing an increasingly severe expression. Her hooves ground into the road with a slight quake as she advanced two more steps. “What else have I done wrong, foreigner?”

Zecora's head reeled back as if she'd been struck when Luna pronounced the word “foreigner” in much the same tone as the nobles at Castle Blueblood had. After a moment of shock, her face turned back toward anger. “In one such event,” she said, heedless of the inner voice telling her not to speak further, “you gave ponies who attacked us a chance to repent. If you act like such a fool, you should expect questions to your rule.”

Princess Luna tried to flap her wings, forgetting that one had been broken the night before. The bones had mostly reformed, but the muscles had yet to knit themselves back together completely. Heedless of the pain, she ripped its feathers out of the bandages Zecora had applied. It began beating with its twin, lifting her several feet in the air, allowing her to more effectively project the full force of her glare. The crowd hastened to back away as an eerie wind picked up, carrying with it tendrils of black and purple smoke. When she spoke, however, her voice was quiet. “And to think I was on the verge of allowing thee to enter into my audience with Oracle. Surely thou knewest how angry I am to see this sight, yet thou dost provoke me anyway. Thou hast done nothing but question me since we arrived!”

She paused, narrowed her eyes, and cocked her head to the side. “Come to think of it, why art thou even with me this far? Thou hast done so much to aid and comfort me, yet what have I done to make thee so devoted? In fact, I would venture to say that the hardship in thy life hath increased significantly since we crossed paths. Thy mystery hath been charming until now, but I shall not abide it in one who—”

Suddenly, superimposed over the bloodshot, glistening eyes of Zecora, she saw the purple ones of Twilight Sparkle.

“One who...” Her vision filled with tiny sparks of light, as if she were wearing a veil of stars. She landed to steady herself—and to stop the splitting ache in her injured wing.

“If my thoughts and feelings you wish to know,” said Zecora as she turned to walk away, “seek me out when you finish your show.” She took to the sky and went back the way they came, through the treacherous mountains.

Luna raised a hoof toward her friend desperately as her mouth tried to form words, any words. She attempted to fly after her, but only managed to get a few dozen feet in the air before her bad wing forced her into a crash landing. She coughed up dust as she struggled back to her hooves, pushing away a kindly minotaur who had stooped down to help her up. She went back to her place in the line, to which no one objected, and stood there in a glowering trance.

Luna picked up on little about the world around her during her brooding. Shapes, large and small, went by her in both directions. There was sweat on her body, probably from the rays of the sun beating down on her. She was drawing closer to a huge, shadowy hole cut into the red rock. Inside of its darkness, a familiar shape was floating in the air. With a coat of alabaster, a mane of onyx, and a thick covering of seaweed and slime, the sea-pony form of Thin Mint beckoned her closer with its two remaining, non-mutated hooves. Wordlessly and without a trace of emotion visible, she heeded the call, and nearly ran into a boulder in the process. She stumbled and shook her head as she corrected her bearings, keeping track of the forms which were not vanishing into thin air as they made their way into the dragon's lair.

“Ah, Luna! I have been expecting you,” said a distant voice—distant in space, or in time, she wondered—, deep and dark like the voice of the cavern itself. “I would like to say it is because of my divine power, but alas, it is simply because I heard you shouting from all the way in here.”

Gradually, Luna's vision sharpened again. The cave was dotted with stalagmites which were unnaturally arranged in measured intervals. Around each of them was a stacked pile of gleaming bits and scintillating jewels, the size and composition of which seemed to vary according to the height and position of the stalagmite. In the center of this massive, abacus-like array was a bloody, scorched stone slab. The smell of cooked meat filled her nostrils, and to her disgust and secret delight, her mouth began to water, just like it did when she had been corrupted. Before this simple yet grotesque altar, the massive dragon sat.

Oracle's scales were white steel, and his spikes gray iron. The sunken, ashen eyes with which he regarded Luna had a metallic quality to them as well. Catfish-like whiskers hung down to the floor, so long that they had to curl up like ropes. Most noticeably of all, his belly was enormously bloated, and he was in the process of chewing to add more to it when the Princess entered.

“Attendant!” he called into the dark as he licked his claws clean. “Serve some refreshments to the line. This prophecy is going to take a while. Don't come back in until she leaves either.”

A smaller dragon, though still an adult, slithered past Luna to execute the command, scrunching his snout at her as he passed. She did not acknowledge the look, but continued staring straight ahead.

“I understand,” said Oracle after his attendant had left, “that you have something of a moral objection to my operation? Did I hear that correctly?”

“I wish to know why thou hast dishonored thy gifts so thoroughly,” Luna responded. “This is not the way I remembered thee.”

“Ah,” he said, scratching his chin and settling into a comfortable prone position on the floor. “Well, it just so happens that, about a millenium and a half ago, a certain pony Princess published a book in which the Lost Valley was mentioned. It had a little bit about a horse who came by and threatened my life when I demanded too much money from some poor peasants for my visions. It was—shall we say—off, in some particulars, but it didn't matter. Soon, instead of five visitors a year, I was getting ten, and they began to behave less like supplicant pilgrims and more like demanding customers.”

“Art thou saying this is my fault?” Luna was too tired even to glare, though she tried. “Zapeta was a friend, and I believed the world needed to hear her story, that part especially. 'Twas about standing up for the poor against all odds. I did not harbor any animosity toward thee. Moreover, these are still thy actions. I forced nothing upon anyone.”

“Oh, I'm well aware,” the dragon said, stretching his huge legs. “But this is the best way to make everyone happy. Those who seek me out can get some advice which may turn out to be relevant to their lives, I get to stay in here to eat instead of having to raid farms and gem mines, and my servants turn a comfortable profit. As do I, of course. This would not be much of a hoard otherwise.”

“That is disgusting.”

Oracle sighed, filling the cavern with noxious fumes that made Luna hack and wheeze. “Maybe so,” he said. “In truth, I always admired your steady, firm scruples. Even to us old and jaded dragons, it was heartening to see that some in this world could hold to such virtue. That is why it was such a blow when you began to hunt us.”

“I hunted those that I believed did wrong,” Luna objected, although not as forcefully as she would have liked. “Nothing more.”

“You don't have to justify yourself to me, Princess Luna. More than any other, I understood what happened to you. You fought the darkness itself, and for a time the darkness overcame you. That is why I divined your return for Celestia, free of charge.”

“What? That prophecy was yours?”

“Don't sound so surprised.” He laughed, rubbing his rotund belly. “That was classic Oracle. I'm particularly proud about 'the stars will aid in her escape.' Simply beautiful.”

“What was so special about that?” Luna asked. “Any astronomer could have predicted that alignment.”

“Of course.” Oracle smiled. “But only I could have foreseen that it would take a truly exceptional pony to free the real you. Nightmare Moon might have escaped with the aid of starlight, but Princess Luna escaped with the aid of the stars of magic themselves, whose light sparkles in the eyes of the pony who bears its mark. That is a connection which works its changes upon you to this day, via the channel of the Elements of Harmony.”

Luna realized her jaw was hanging open, so she closed it. “Anyone could have heard about her,” she mumbled. “'Twas nearly two years ago.”

“Think what you will.” He shrugged. “Just know that I am glad that the second part came true. I would not have enjoyed eternal night. I should warn you that many dragons will not be this understanding, unfortunately. I'm told that one of my young sons is among them.”

“He was extremely rude to me and to my friend,” Luna said with a downcast look and a blush. “My honor demanded satisfaction.”

“Luna, he is a child,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course he should know better, but the responsibility to avoid conflict falls on the adult, especially when that adult is so much stronger.”

“It is too late now,” said Luna, glaring into the middle distance to avoid the father's stern gaze. “He was challenged in front of other dragons.”

“Yes, I know, just...” Oracle pressed his tongue against the gap where the warrior Zapeta had kicked out one of his teeth. “Do not hurt him too much.”

“I shall not. I give my most solemn word.”

“Anyway, I'm sure that's not why you came here. What is your question?”

Luna inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. “I wish to know why the artifacts I sealed away in my palace before my banishment have decayed to near-uselessness, despite their enchantments. In order to obtain this answer, I offer one of these artifacts, my cloak, as a sacrifice.” She took the cloak off and levitated it over to the altar, draping the lustrous moonsilver cloth over the ugly slab.

“Keep it,” he said, taking it delicately in his claws to avoid making more holes that would need to be patched. “It's going to be a cold winter this year.”

Luna stared as he placed the cloth back in front of her, but she remained quiet.

“Now, give me a few moments.” Oracle closed his eyes and forced his body into a crouching position. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs to the point of bursting. Then, with his face close to his altar, he began to blow on it. As the tendrils on his snout sparked and started to hover in the air, his breath became a small, steady spout of flame. The spout changed colors as the dragon’s trance deepened. First crimson, then verdant green, then piercing white, then a color that could only be perceived or described by one of the world's ageless beings. When his breath finally drew low, Oracle opened his eyes and peered into the dense cloud of multi-colored smoke that now filled his lair.

“They aren't saying much to me,” he mumbled in a soft, distracted voice, as if he were only dimly aware of Luna's presence. He reached out toward a patch of red smoke, which fled out of his grasp at the last second. “But I think that's because the pieces are already in place. We're just not far enough away.”

“What, pray tell, does that mean?” Luna asked, shielding herself from the smoke with a filter made of her magical turquoise light.

“Ah... the answer was right under your hooves. You met an old student of yours some time ago, did you not?” He cornered a patch of rainbow-hued mist and searched its light from every direction.

“Yes. I did.” Luna's head and shoulders sagged, followed by a shudder when she remembered seeing that student in her daze less than an hour ago.

“Well, surely you didn't think she was the only one?” He tapped on a rock formation with his claws until it shattered. He took careful note of exactly where its pieces landed, his eyes opening wider.

“I did not think about that, but what difference would others make? I sealed that chest so that not even Celestia could access its contents.”

“Therein lies your problem,” he said, nodding firmly after studying the way the dark haze danced around a splatter of blood that had stained the rock during an earlier ritual. “You designed the spell thinking only of your sister, as if she were the greatest power in the world. She may very well be, but this isn't a question of strength, it is a question of direction. Ponies with a magical style much different from hers, who got a glimpse of your style first-hoof, and who have had a thousand years of undeath to work on the problem, however...”

“That is impossible,” Luna stated flatly.

“Yes, it is always possible for something to turn out to be impossible,” Oracle said, twirling his whiskers in his fingers. “But I can't shake the image of you descending into a lake, with a mare's voice entreating you to come meet her friends.”

“I did, and I killed those zombies with Zecora's help.”

“There was someone else there with you? I only see a wolf, who was in no shape to do much of anything. If that's true, you should definitely ask this 'Zecora' about everything. If I were in a situation like the one you appear to have been in, I would not fully trust my own senses or memories. The friends the voice was speaking of were not zombies, from what I can tell.”

Luna shook her head slowly as her mind raced. “I will... I will do that. I—I think I must depart now. I thank thee so much for thy time, I shall pay you back when I—”

“I require no payment from you,” Oracle said, “provided that you come back and give me the answer to this question when you find it. The powers have not spoken to me in this manner in a very long time. Be careful!”

Luna turned and dashed out of the dragon's lair, galloping hard through a bewildered mass of pilgrims. Without even slowing down, she cast a teleportation spell to transport herself to the top of the valley. She reached the end of the plateau there in seconds. Just as she was about to spread her wounded wings to glide back in the direction Zecora had flown, a snarling voice stopped her.

“Are you trying to run away from your own challenge?” called out Alexios, flanked by two other teenage dragons.

“We do not have time for this!” Luna said through a clenched jaw.

“I'll make it quick,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “My terms are wrestling, until surrender or unconsciousness.”

I am such a fool, Luna said to herself as she turned toward the dragon. He was breathing small puffs of red fire which were reflected in the black pools of his eyes. She matched his display by letting out a large burst of glowing indigo fire from her own mouth. All three dragons had to consciously force themselves not to draw back in shock as she strode through the burning air, completely untouched by its heat. At ten paces from her opponent, she halted and set herself in a proud, wide four-legged stance, with both of her wings spread out to full length. I shall trust anything that giveth me a surface to cry upon. Idiot!

The platinum-scaled challenger charged, opening with a wide haymaker—which was only a feint for a grab with his other claw. Luna stopped both attacks by rearing back, positioning her front hooves right where each of his elbows were going to be, and slamming down.

'Tis a wonder I have not been led to my death already.

Alexios screamed as his forearms snapped.

Or have I?

With a gutteral roar, he launched himself upward, his teeth bearing right down on Luna's neck. Luna flipped onto her back and kicked upwards with her rear legs. The incredible force of the blow broke the dragon's snout and crushed his windpipe. Alexios staggered, trying to open an airway with his broken arms.

Perhaps I died in the lake, and this is all but a dark dream.

Luna felt other sets of claws descend upon her sides. She also felt a jolt of electricity as she called down arcs of unnatural blue lightning to ward them off. Her mane and tail sparked and spread out, standing on end from a potent combination of static and adrenaline.

Maybe I am still on the moon.

With the distractions out of the way, she leaped onto her opponent and pinned him to the ground. One hoof set to work closing his throat further, while the other began to press down over his heart to end things once and for all.

Where I belong.

“No!” she suddenly heard herself scream. Unlike the other times she had been on the precipice of doing something horrible, this time she stopped herself before any visions of the Elements of Harmony and their words came to her. Their voices did indeed try to well up from that Nightmare-shaped hole inside of her, but they retreated as soon as she stepped off of Alexios. They almost died away completely as she channeled a vast amount of her power into a single healing spell. She launched a ray of white energy at the young dragon, and then she turned to fly away as fast as she could. She could not even hear the protests of her bad wing over the fury of the tornado of sand and lightning that her display of power had kicked up in the Lost Valley and its environs.

“'I am getting better',” she quoted her earlier self mockingly to the violent winds. As she glided to where she had left her supplies, where she hoped Zecora would be waiting, she let out a sound that had elements of both a laugh and a cry of anguish, but was neither.