Mira was born to rule.

She thought of it while begging for grain on the side of the road. She reminded herself when scavenging through the middenheap for scraps of moldy bread. She dreamed of it while catching moths during the deepest darkness of the night, collecting all into her basket.

Only when it was filled could she fly home, watchful every second of her flight in case a particularly cruel pegasus was following her. It wouldn’t be the first time. Being small and pathetic sometimes helped ponies feel enough sympathy to donate to her, but it also made her an ideal victim for an endless banquet of cruelties, if only they could catch her.

Mira didn’t let them catch her. The queen of nightmares might be banished, her parents dead and her tribe cursed to be hunted vagabonds, but that didn’t mean she would forget.

The reminder was in her name: Mira. “I was there the night the princess gave it to you,” Kallisto whispered to her, when the nights were cold, and her stomach was empty. “Foal born of peace into a world filled with warm summers and short winters,” she said. “Message of friendship to all ponies she meets.”

But that wasn’t the life Mira knew. Her body was lean, growth forever stunted by poor nutrition as she matured.

But she had come out the other end far better than some. She wasn’t slow of thought like some of the other children, forever grasping at basic concepts and the first to die when winter came to their scattered caverns and shelters.

She hadn’t ended up flightless either—Mira’s wings had kept growing even when she stopped, so much that they sometimes made her look small by comparison. Nowhere near their missing princess, but larger than some adults.

Mira landed in a patch of jungle far from Hollow Shades, far enough that even the scattered farmsteads were nowhere to be seen. There were only towering trees on all sides.

The clan in exile burned no fire near the cave entrance, for the Solar Army would see the smoke and hunt them down as a rebellious remnant. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t raised weapons against Equestria any time in Mira’s memory.

The ponies of Hollow Shades hadn’t forgotten, that was certain. She heard it in their whisper—or sometimes got it told directly to her face when they donated a few grains or berries to her beggers’ basket.

“Your parents did this to you,” they would say. “You betrayed Equestria. You’re lucky we give you anything.”

And when they thought she wasn’t listening, what she overheard was even worse. “The princess shouldn’t have let them surrender. It would be kinder if they died.”

When the winter came, when the sky was empty of insects and the trees bare of fruit, sometimes Mira forgot her name. That was when she believed them.

It wasn’t winter now, not yet. She still had a mostly-full basket, and a full belly. Everypony would, for another month or so. Then it would get hard, and there would be flesh-scent in the winter flames.

“Step forward, pony. I see you there,” barked a voice. Nacht always sounded harsh at first—he had to be, to keep the daywalkers from finding them. If that happened, she knew as well as everypony that the Solar Army would need no proof of wrongdoing. They would come, and crush Understory like they had broken so many others.

She took the basket out of her mouth, settling it around her neck as she stepped into the cave. She grinned up at Nacht as she approached, wings spreading to make herself seem bigger and older. “Or what, Nacht? You’ll bite me?”

Understory’s entrance cavern was kept entirely natural, without so much as a glowstone to illuminate the interior. If ponies passed by outside and peeked in, they’d find nothing but a pair of suspiciously well-armed bats inside, blocking off a wide cavern into further darkness.

With only the faint starlight glowing through the entrance behind her, the world was colorless to Mira, but perfectly clear. Her gold eyes adjusted in seconds to the gloom, ears perking to add every echo and sound to her mental picture of the world. Like her wings, they’d kept growing even when she stopped.

“Maybe when you’re older,” Nacht said, his tone relaxing instantly. “Three days this time? Slim pickings with the daywalkers?”

She nodded glumly as she approached. “Couldn’t quite fill the basket. But the temple needs me. Kallisto’s supplies must be running out by now.”

“You still honor that old nag,” said the other guard. Mira thought his name was Lud, or something equally dense. “Waste of life, orphan. What good did serving the moon get us? She can promise the world, but all she left us with are nightmares.”

Mira stiffened, her tail sticking out straight behind her. “I know how many bats think that way… but you’re wrong. Things were good when Nightmare Moon was in charge. We didn’t have to hide from the stars deep underground. We only ate bugs when we wanted to.”

“Don’t bother with Lud, he can barely see past the steel of his helmet.” Nacht patted her gently on the shoulder, urging her deeper in. “Ain’t that right, Lud?”

The other guard growled in response, very faintly. Mira sometimes stayed to chat with whoever was on watch, maybe for hours. It wasn’t like she had anywhere of her own to sleep in Understory. But if Nacht was on duty, he always let her use his bunk.

Unfortunately, Mira’s hearing was excellent, and she couldn’t help but hear them as she walked through the confusing maze of passages beyond. They were utterly black, beyond even sharp bat sight to illuminate. But one of their kindred need only feel for certain marks on the stone floor, and follow them.

Listening all the while to what the guards said as she left. “I don’t see what you’re waiting for, Nacht,” Lud grunted. “She’s plenty old enough. ‘Sides, orphan don’t got no father to come asking after your conduct, does she? You keep actin’ so sweet on her, so take her.”

Mira shivered, wings wrapping tightly around her sides, ears pressing flat. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“You’re as dumb as the caves themselves, Lud. She’s pretty, but life’s more than pretty. What if she gave me a foal, eh? Raise a child in this place? We’re meant for more than this, Lud. Maybe others will inflict this life on the innocent, but I won’t.”

She was mercifully too distant by the time Lud made his (likely crude) reply, face bright red with embarrassment all the way.

He’s right, though. Dumb bats like Lud can crawl around in caves and only think of their next broth or bed, but the rest of us aren’t supposed to be this way.

Her tribe couldn’t change the weather to keep the days sunny and the summers short. They couldn’t grow miraculous harvests in stony soil, and they couldn’t enchant the world around them with incredible spells.

Her tribe were something bigger than that: seers, explorers, and fierce warriors. Ponies like Nacht were a reminder of just what they’d been. Proud, noble, kind. Brave.

Now they were barely even survivors. It’s changing all of us. If all the foals are raised by parents like Lud, will there even be a next generation?

Understory opened up to her, a sudden explosion of light. Glowstone shards of a thousand different shades illuminated the cavern ceiling from high above, twinkling stars in pale imitation of the surface world.

Her clan had made the most of their banishment, despite solar rules on bringing more than one family of bats together at once. But with Equestria so hostile to their survival, what choice did they have? Those who tried to integrate often turned into the subjects of horror stories, whispered by traders from the north.

The cavern was not even half the size of Hollow Shades, though it probably held as many ponies. The bats had colonized every crevice, driving wooden platforms into the walls and surrounding them with makeshift cloth to give their homes a little privacy.

None of those homes had beds waiting for Mira. Her parents had been among the most loyal to the Nightmare Princess. While that meant favor and riches during her rule, it also meant a place by her side during the rebellion.

Still, there was somewhere waiting for her, the only stone structure in all Understory. Because, of course, it was the only structure here, long before wars and rebellions and Alicorn princesses.

The temple was called Artemis, though no one now living remembered why. It was located at the very center of the cavern, where a thin crack in the rock ran all the way to the surface. Through it, a ray of silvery moonlight cut straight through the smoke and gloom of the city, falling directly on the temple’s glass roof.

Mira dodged through dense construction on the cavern walls, ignoring the host of inviting smells. Many of the wealthiest bats had clay hearths, and ate their gruel baked into cakes during the plentiful season.

Not her. Not a filly with a name like Mira, whose family had walked beside their princess during her years of glory.

The princess who had failed them.

The towers and walls around the temple of Artemis suggested it had once had its own guards, probably as noble and fierce as those who served beside the princess herself.

They were empty now, glass domes turned opaque with centuries of dust. The wall was split by a gigantic crater on one side, melted in the way of unicorn spells.

With the gate so long rusted into a makeshift iron wall, Mira entered through the crater. She passed loamy beds of compost, where waste carefully tended produced succulent mushrooms under Kallisto’s careful attention.

Curiously, several of the trays were filled with ripe mushrooms, swollen so fat that their heads poked from the edges.

Were you saving these for me? Mira pruned them with her teeth, savoring the familiar flavor on her tongue. All the enriching protein, without the crunch and wings getting stuck in her teeth that bugs brought.

She only took enough to fill the basket. There was a technique to this, after all, one she’d never fully mastered. Her own harvests were always clumsier than Kallisto could manage, despite her blindness.

“I’m back, Kallisto!” Mira called, banging the ancient stone doors shut behind her. The temple’s upper chamber was a round stone room, with a skylight for moonlight positioned at its exact center. There was something strange about the glass there, a technique of artificers long gone. Somehow, even a wisp of moonlight became a brilliant silver glow when it struck, easily lighting the temple interior. Only on the new moon did they want for light.

There were no more benches for worship, since no worshipers came. The walls and floors were all covered in carvings. It was a map, carved with exquisite detail. But this was no place in Equestria, or even the land before when their tribe had lived in peaceful isolation.

This map depicted the Dreamlands, where sleepers from every tribe and every world dwelt together. Kingdom of fate and madness, where once Nightmare Moon had ruled. But before her, the explorers. Before her, the Temple of Artemis.

“I’m here!” Mira called again, poking her head between ancient piles of books. There had been shelves to hold those once, before the clan used the wood to light a winter fire. At least they hadn’t used the books.

She should be up here, Mira thought. She doesn’t go down until sunrise. The glow overhead was all she needed to see that the night wasn’t over yet.

Fearful, Mira sped rapidly towards the staircase against the far wall, descending into the cave. There was enough living space for a dozen priests and temple attendants—but all those were dead now, except Kallisto. It was a lonely place, with lots of empty rooms. They didn’t even have locked doors or dusty furniture, since all that had been scavenged by other needful bats.

Only Kallisto’s quarters remained, the first door near the stairs. Her door was shut, another sign of things that shouldn’t be. The clan might’ve forgotten her, but Kallisto never forgot them. She was always open to receive visitors, even in the bleakest sunlight of noon.

“Kallisto?” Mira called, rapping her hooves on the door. “I’m back with supplies! Sorry it took me a little longer this time.”

The silence stretched on into eternity. For one, terrible moment, she thought there would be no answer, and the last good thing in the world was gone.

But then she heard a voice, feeble and distant. A voice so old it gave new meaning to the word, and made the towering jungle giants seem like saplings.

“Is that Mira? Good… come in. We need to speak again before I die.”

Mira hesitated at the threshold, waiting for Kallisto to let her in. But no matter how much she wanted her old teacher to still be healthy enough for that, the reality underneath was obviously different. No hooves sounded on the floor, and the door didn’t swing open.

Finally Mira could bear the wait no longer and she surged forward, ears flattening and wings lifting vertically behind her. “Kallisto?” she asked. But she didn’t have far to look. Kallisto was in her bed.

She was the oldest bat Mira had ever seen—older than any of the Understory elders. Older than any of the unicorns of Hollow Shades with their powerful spells and magic healing.

Kallisto could probably use some magic healing now. Her eyes were entirely glazed with cataracts. Her fur was missing in great big patches, revealing liver-spotted and wrinkled skin beneath. Her flesh sagged in places, even when she was laying down.

When she spoke, Mira could tell her age, even without looking at her. It was the voice of a pony who had seen whole ages come and go—who had served under Nightmare Moon, and even the one before.

“I was worried you would not come in time,” Kallisto continued. “I waited too long, and I could not perform the ritual alone.”

Mira felt herself relaxing. Of course this was about something religious. How could she have ever entertained an alternative? Kallisto wouldn’t waste time with something as dramatic as last words, before dying with tragically convenient timing. She’d probably outlive Mira herself.

“Ritual… which ritual?” She made her cheerful way over to the bed, settling the basket on the bedside. She selected the juiciest mushroom and a few of the least moldy bits of bread, and settled them on a plate.

The priestess’s bedroom was spartan to the extreme—aside from the bed, there was only a flat wooden desk covered in papers. She didn’t even have a bookshelf, since that would mean other bats couldn’t find the books they needed.

“Here. You need your strength first. You should eat, Priestess Kallisto.”

The ancient mare pushed the plate aside with one shaking hoof. “No, filly. I cannot eat anymore. It is one of the ways an old pony like me can die. We eat less and less, until…” Despite her total blindness, her face tracked Mira as she moved through the room. She was alert for every sound, every twitch.

“I should have done the ritual sooner. No bat who served before me would have waited so long. But I waited… I was selfish, determined to teach you all that I could. I have failed. I offer no apology, as I deserve no forgiveness.”

Mira put the plate aside, though she kept it closeby. The mare might deny it now, but she would probably rediscover her hunger soon enough. And in the meantime, she didn’t have to wait. Mira picked the best-looking salvage from her basket, snacking while she waited. The priestess wouldn’t mind, so long as she was listening attentively. Still, she swallowed before she replied. “I forgive you anyway, Kallisto. Whatever you want to teach me, there’s always tomorrow.”

Kallisto sighed. “Mira, I have one final task. The moon is already waning, I feel it. If the sun rises, I will die here. I need your help.”

“Anything,” Mira said, before Kallisto had even finished speaking. “You know that, Priestess. You deserve to have all of Understory here helping you. This temple should be full of ponies. I’m not smart or strong, but I’ll do anything you ask.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Kallisto said. “By night’s end, I think you may know the measure of your strength a bit better. Here is what you must do.”

She recited a strange list—ingredients from deep in the vault below. Nothing valuable, since the monastery had long since traded away anything of worth. But a few rare species, colored glass, along with some of the herbs Kallisto mixed for injured ponies.

What would Understory do when they lost their only healer?

It didn’t matter to Mira that Kallisto was probably being forgetful again. She followed the old ways so strictly that sometimes even she fell short of her own high standards. But one of the few ways Mira could show respect was to treat every request like she was an apprentice with the temple.

“Everything you asked!” she said, dropping the basket from her mouth onto the desk across the room. “You sure you want to do this in here, Kallisto? We usually do worship upstairs.”

“I am too weak,” the mare said, and she sounded it. Her voice was thin and reedy, like it might blow away in a stiff breeze. It made Mira tense to hear. “But don’t be afraid, filly. Your arrival was not too late. I have…” She coughed, convulsing in her bed, sentence decomposing.

Mira rushed to her side, holding her still with both hooves. She restrained the old mare until the coughing stopped, keeping her from rolling off the edge. After what felt like forever, it did, and Kallisto opened her blind eyes again.

“You see… what I mean,” she said. “Will alone keeps me here. Another hour, and the old magic would not be enough. My soul would still find the Dreamlands, but this is better. Do exactly as I say, and know that my life depends on it.”

Mira no longer felt like she was humoring the old mare. Rather, she worked through her tears as she set up the ritual as Kallisto instructed. There were patterns to be drawn, incense to burn near the bed, and words to speak. Most importantly, there was a draught to make, adding icy water from the sacred well below to the herbs Kallisto had told her about.

“That’s a sleeping draught,” Mira realized, as she finished mixing. “I recognize the smell. Whenever there were nightmares, you…”

Kallisto chuckled. “That is right. But this potion is not like any you have had before. Bring it here, and mind not to smudge the chalk.”

Mira was careful. She’d only drawn this sacred pattern every new moon for the last six years. “I’ve done the Sundown Glyph since I really was a filly,” she muttered. “I’m not going to ruin it. I worked extra hard on this one, just like you said.”

Kallisto was crying. Moisture smudged her face, and streamed from sightless eyes. She reached towards Mira with one hoof, urgently. “Quickly, the night is almost gone. You must…” She took a deep, rattling breath, as though she were about to break down into another coughing fit. But this time, she fought it back.

“We say our farewells tonight,” Kallisto finally said. “We may say them here, or you can accompany me. Whatever your choice, know that I will be watching over you. I know you can read—study the ancient texts. I meant to leave you… with all the power of Oneiromancy. I failed.”

Accompany you? But you can’t walk. You’re barely even breathing. She couldn’t bring herself to say so. Kallisto cared about the faith so much that her very last act would be a ritual. “I’ll go with you,” Mira said. “Anywhere. You know I would.”

Kallisto extended a hoof for the bottle. “Give. When I drink… you must also. It is forbidden to dreamwalk with one who has not sworn to the temple… but I’m sure you would have, if we had time. Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.” Mira settled the bottle against her hoof. But Kallisto was so weak that she couldn’t lift it without knocking it over, so she helped lift it too, holding it in place as the green-brown liquid dribbled into her lips. Only when she finally stopped drinking did she pull it back. Half the sleeping draught remained, maybe more.

“Then stay close to me.” Kallisto smiled, relaxing. “I will… good to fly again.”

There was no way the potion could have such a powerful effect on her, could it? Mira looked down at the sleeping potion, considering it for a long moment. It wouldn’t be good for some strange bat like Lud to find her sleeping here, drugged beyond waking.

But ponies like that had no reason to come to the temple. She guessed that anyone who didn’t find her upstairs would just turn around and leave again. What else could they do, steal old books nopony understood?

Mira looked down into that ancient, sleeping face, and knew beyond any doubt that she would not wake again.

Ponies have always been afraid of Kallisto’s magic, she thought. But the old mare had never taught Mira any of it—she wasn’t ready yet. Now she never would be.

What do I have to lose? Mira lifted the sleeping potion to her lips. She drank deeply, fighting the urge to cough the bitter herbs back up.

It didn’t act like any sleeping potion she’d ever drank before. The world slipped out from under her hooves, though of course it hadn’t moved. The single faint line of moonlight shining in under the door became a blazing bonfire, filling the room so high it poured into her mouth and nose.

Mira fell into the light. Suddenly a terrible wind whipped about her, fiercer than her fastest flight. She opened both wings, but she could barely even keep herself upright, let alone stop. She screamed, and found her voice didn’t echo in the stone bedroom.

There was no more bedroom, no more Understory, no more Temple of Artemis. Stars winked into existence around her, first a few pale flashes, then hundreds of little bonfires. How could she be so high up? She must be falling so fast that she would squash like bean paste when she hit the ground.

“Over here!” called another voice, barely audible over the wind. Mira shielded her face with a leg, and could barely make out another bat falling with her. The voice was familiar too, though she couldn’t place exactly why. “Mira, this way! Fly to me!”

Surrounded by such terror, it didn’t matter if the speaker was her dead mother or a general of the Solar Army. Anything was better than dying in a heap of broken bones and torn wings. She flew.

The figure drew closer, reaching out for her with a pair of hooves. Mira got close enough to see her now—a bat mare, but not like most of the bats she knew in waking life.

This was a mare like the old days, her mane in an elegant gemstone braid, her wings adorned with tassels, and sturdy explorers’ boots on her hooves. Her eyes weren’t sunken, her belly wasn’t swollen with hunger. If it weren’t for the wind, she would probably smell like mango perfume.

Mira finally got close enough to touch one of her hooves. The mare wrapped around her, pulling her in as she spread her wings. She ripped her backward, out of the torrent.

Suddenly they were gliding. Instead of a featureless starry void, Mira’s eyes adjusted. There was a jungle underneath, alive with the light of a full moon. She smelled no unicorn magic on the air, only familiar plants and the moisture of a recent rain.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” said the mare, finally releasing her to glide on her own. “I wouldn’t blame you. Age slows and clouds the mind—I don’t think I was a very good teacher these last few years.”

In that instant, Mira recognized the voice. It didn’t matter that this pony didn’t have a coat bleached white with age, hadn’t lost her teeth and her sight or had a wing severed in that terrible war.

Kallisto’s voice wasn’t broken or damaged anymore. If anything, she seemed more alive than Mira had ever heard her.

“How can you be… how is this possible?” she asked. But she wasn’t afraid anymore, she felt only awe. “Where are we?”

The young, vibrant Kallisto laughed, without coughing up blood. “You grew up in the temple of Artemis, Mira. Where do you think?”

She didn’t recognize it—none of what Mira saw was familiar to her. But how many times had she walked past those maps? They weren’t just religious—once, bats had been something more. “The Dreamlands,” she whispered.

“For the first time,” Kallisto agreed. “And perhaps the last.”

Mira didn’t understand. That was nothing new—there was a great deal that she didn’t know, particularly where the ancient magic of her kind was concerned.

But usually being around Kallisto meant she would have her questions answered, rather than drown in a dozen new ones.

“You could just do this whenever you wanted?” Mira asked, calling over the sound of rushing wind all around them. “Why wouldn’t… why did you wait so long?”

Kallisto whistled ruefully. “In my youth, I would have. When the temple of Artemis was a place of glory, I spent lifetimes traveling distant fields of stone and steel.”

They landed lightly in the grass, trailing gravel and bits of dirt as they touched down. Only then did Kallisto release her grip on Mira.

It wasn’t just a forest, at least none she’d ever seen before. Not that Mira had flown far north of her native jungles, but this… this looked more like something on another planet.

It wasn’t daytime, despite her initial impressions. The great glowing ball overhead was the moon, vaster than the sun at noonday, though it never hurt her eyes.

Rather than just absorbing the light, the forest all around them glowed with a light all its own. Leaves flickered with blue near their veins, or collected berries of white radiance hanging like fruit. Flowers retreated from their hooves as they walked, coating the forest floor in a diffuse glow of pinks, greens, and blues.

“But why not anymore?” Mira asked, urgent. She never wanted to sound ungrateful, not with Kallisto. She was the only pony in the world who had ever given to her, and not expected anything in return. “We could’ve come here, Kallisto! You could’ve taught me about… all of this!”

She darted beside a huge, rotten log, nudging it over with a hoof. But she didn’t find any of her favorite white mushrooms clustered near the top—only a cat, which mewled fearfully and backed away into the shadow.

“I would have, child. If only I could.” She held Mira by one hoof, pulling her away from the log. She bounced forward from hoof to hoof, leaping up onto a nearby stump. Probably belonged to the same log that lay rotten.

“The soul rebels, Mira. I’m no Alicorn princess. I’ve known for years now that my next time into the Dreamlands would be my last. I’ve seen this done before—lifetimes ago. Their hearts stop beating before the sun comes up.”

Mira wasn’t stupid—not as stupid as Lud, anyway. But every word Kallisto said only confused her more. I saw her. She was dying. The ancient thestral didn’t want to share all her secrets. But why?

“This is the Dreamlands,” Mira said. “What was important enough that it would be your last trip?”

Kallisto hopped back down again, wrapping one wing over her shoulder. “The same end to every thestral who ever watched the moon,” she said. “The other tribes watch for the Elysian Fields, where they run forever with their clan.

“But for those of us who reach it—the Dreamlands. Where no moth consumes, where rust never cankers. Where I can still fly.” She urged Mira to trot, then run. “This way, child! Come with me this one last time.”

Mira had never gone with her outside the walls of Athena’s temple—but she ran now, without fear. It’s real. Everything Kallisto ever taught me. It wasn’t just our old religion. The magic works.

The forest transformed around them. It felt like minutes, but it had to be hours, right? Maybe days… but just like that, the trees grew larger, with thick canopies that blotted out the moon and hosted numberless dark shapes.

“What city?” Mira asked.

“Erebus,” Kallisto replied. “Nothing like you’ve ever seen, Mira. Everything you’ve ever heard me say about the glory of ancient thestrals, the nobility in you—it’s there.”

In a way, it resembled Understory, with buildings that clustered around natural stone formations on the ground and ceiling. A twisting metal spire formed the center, with buildings attached to the side just like in her cave.

But where she could easily fly from floor to ceiling in a matter of hours, this city was closer to an entire mountain range in itself. She smelled the weight of it even from a distance, so many bat scents that they all blurred into a single, vibrant mass.

Kallisto didn’t mirror her excitement. She slowed as they reached the edge of a cliff, hooves skidding on the dark rock. “The city shouldn’t be dark, not here.” She turned, meeting Mira’s eyes. “Only the natives of this realm need to sleep. There are no natives in Erebus—every one of them was a bat from our world. Well, ours or the one before.”

She took off, a little clumsily at first, flying off the edge and into the mist. Mira made to follow, then hesitated. There was something on the ground, something that she’d barely noticed.

The cat she’d seen now stood on the stone behind her—somehow it had kept up. If it was winter, Mira might’ve considered which soldier to trade it to in exchange for some of the meat.

But the winter hadn’t come, and Mira wasn’t nearly starving enough to eat something so cute. “Stay out of trouble,” she said, the way Nacht always said it to her.

The cat looked like it might just reply—but then it turned up its nose, slinking over to the edge of the rocks, where it started licking itself.

Mira hurried after her teacher, leaping right over the edge and catching herself in the fall. The bat hadn’t slowed to wait for her, but continued on towards the city. But Kallisto was slow and clumsy in the air, like a pony that hadn’t flown for weeks.

Mira was fast, fast enough to escape from all but a trained pegasus guard. She caught up after just a few seconds.

“Why are we… coming here exactly?” she panted.

“So I can join the others at last,” Kallisto said. “Equestria welcomed us, but has almost destroyed us for our trust. But Erebus is out of Celestia’s reach. Here the clans who flew between the fabric of worlds continue those explorations forever. Maybe they will find a kinder home for ponies like us. Either way, this is what I have waited for. I taught the survivors everything I could, did my duty to the last. Now my rest arrives.”

They flew between the first, outer layer of buildings. These were built like nothing she’d ever seen—each one was as tall as castles, as tall as whole mountains. Yet they were hollow, and had windows of glass emerging at regular intervals. The interiors weren’t threadbare stone or wood either—she could see furniture through the glass, homes filled with art and soft beds and larders with food waiting to be eaten.

Kallisto was right, it was everything that she said thestrals were supposed to be. Except for one thing: there weren’t any thestrals.

Many of the gigantic towers were connected by bridges or roads suspended in the air, and many more had balconies for bats to come and go. A city of such size should’ve had a whole army of thestrals in the air all the time, even if they weren’t out with spears to fend off the Solar Army.

“I guess they have lots of extra space,” Mira suggested. “All these buildings are where new bats live when they arrive? There must be hundreds…”

“Millions,” Kallisto said. But she no longer sounded confident, or serene. She tucked her wings close to her sides, then dove into the center. Just like Understory, there was a temple down there—but instead of deep underground, this temple was at the center of a vast metal framework, with thousands of buildings clustered around it above and below. The city was arranged so every structure got moonlight on at least one face—except the temple.

Once they were inside the framework, Mira felt like she was swimming through the light more than flying around it. The colors all washed away, and there was only creamy moonlight extending into forever. Kallisto’s retreating wings were her only guide. Without her, she probably would’ve spiraled off, and eventually crashed into metal supports bigger than whole forts.

The temple at the bottom even looked familiar, though it could’ve fit a dozen Temples of Artemis in its courtyard and still had plenty of room for a parade. Instead of painted rock, there were a half dozen pillars of precious stone, each one catching the moonlight and glowing a different way. They represented different parts of the Dreamlands, though Mira had never bothered to learn the specifics.

Now she wished she had.

Kallisto landed in the center of a fine tile mosaic, seconds before Mira did. “A distant dreamer finds her home at last!” she yelled, each word spoken with ritual clarity. “She searches for an audience with the cartographer, to be weighed for her discoveries!”

Wind whipped through the vast temple complex. Somewhere far away, a shutter banged against a wooden wall. Cloth snapped and whistled. Nopony appeared.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and soon felt like they’d been standing in place for ages. Mira circled around her, ears tucking backward, and wings folded. “Kallisto, are you sure this is the right place? It doesn’t seem like there’s anypony here.”

Kallisto didn’t smile with the wisdom of a lifetime. When she finally turned, her eyes were wide, haunted. “The Solar Army couldn’t find us here,” she whispered. “Celestia… never could’ve come here. She didn’t swear, she doesn’t have our magic.”

“Of course not.” Mira retreated a step, voice shaking. “Y-you told me all about that, Kallisto. The moon welcomed us to her land, and in exchange we shared our secrets with her. She became our princess, watching over the bats of the whole world and leading us to prosperity.”

That was the story, anyway. Mira couldn’t repeat it with much conviction, even here.

“There should be thousands of ponies in this temple,” Kallisto said. “The dead and dreaming of the world should fill the city. But I smell no smoke, and I see no thestrals in flight.” She broke, and took off running towards the largest temple structure.

The building had steps so large they had to jump to clear them, or just glide over like Mira did. Despite the wind, the temple had paper windows instead of glass, each painstakingly traced with delicate patterns.

But the wind had shredded many of them to ribbons, and each provided a clear view to the darkness within.

Then they reached the top of the steps, and Kallisto froze, looking in with horror. Mira landed behind her, and soon saw why.

The interior had been ransacked. The pews within were intact, so no one had come plundering precious wood. But the bookshelves on the far wall were mostly empty, the drawers underneath all turned out and emptied onto the floor. The precious stones set into the wall, arranged in maps of the constellations and the Dreamlands themselves—that had been left behind. What did they value to leave all that? What did they take?

“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” Kallisto muttered. “We knew when Nightmare Moon was defeated that we would suffer. The Solar Army burned so much, but… I thought this was safe.”

Kallisto turned, embracing Mira in a tight hug. “Thank you for coming with me, filly. I imagined we would have the whole night together—I would share the last wisdom I’d gained, you could drink the tea of distant starlight, and say your farewells. Maybe one day you would find your way here, like our ancient ancestors did.”

Mira whimpered. She knew the sound of a goodbye when she heard one. She clung tighter, though this pony felt and smelled very much like a stranger. She’d never known Kallisto as anything other than shriveled and ancient. “D-don’t talk like that,” she stammered. “There’s no reason for any farewells! I can go with you!”

Kallisto let go, retreating a few steps. “Go with me where, child? Look around you. My rest and yours—there’s nopony here. Our eternity has been stolen. When Luna lost, so did every one of us. There’s nowhere else to go.”

Kallisto was the strongest pony Mira had ever met—a pony who could stare into the face of the Solar Guard and not flinch, a pony who could cure the sick and uplift the living with her advice.

She collapsed to the floor in front of Mira, and cried like a foal.

Mira barely understood how she’d gotten there, or how it was possible. What was worse, the pony she’d thought would be there to help had melted in front of her into a whimpering, sniveling mess.

Unlike the strange circumstances around her, this made perfect sense to her. The bats of Mira’s world had a difficult life—a life spent on the edge of a knife. Every winter brought starvation for some, and every encounter with the other tribes of Equestria might bring enslavement, captivity, or torture.

Those bats who could not flee rarely lasted long in those conditions. It was why Understory’s secrecy was so critical.

Mira had seen so many crumble just like Kallisto was doing now. She’d felt that pain herself, threatening to reach up and strangle her too. To move was to survive—if she stopped, death would soon follow.

Even here in this dreaming world, Mira felt her anxiety rising. They had flown into somewhere dangerous, then been as loud and obvious as possible in the hope of attracting friendly attention. They had failed.

“We can’t stay here,” she said, urging Kallisto to stand with one hoof. “Come on. We’ll fly somewhere else. Somewhere safe.”

Kallisto resisted her, but only for a moment. She rose, shuddering. “R-right. Your involvement has gone far enough, Mira. Thank you for seeing me off. Not the way I expected, but… thank you.”

She stumbled towards a nearby temple, as empty and deserted as so many others. Then she traced one hoof along the doorframe, muttering quietly as she did so. The wood began to glow where she touched, a faint line that eventually completed into a rectangle. The looted temple vanished, replaced with a very different temple.

The stone room was quiet and dark. The candle had burned low on the stand, barely more than an ember. Mira’s body lay sleeping before the bed. Kallisto was still there, as ancient, and gray as she remembered. There were no signs of life from her, not even the faint rising and falling of her chest. She was still dead.

“Go, Mira. Forget the terrors you saw here. And… forget every lesson I taught you. Forget everything. There is no safety in the dreaming city. Find happiness however you can.”

Mira’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?” She didn’t even get close to the boundary, for fear that her teacher might shove her through. The youthful bat beside her could probably do it, unlike the resting ancient on that side. “Leave everything? Give up just because of this?” She gestured with one wing at the empty city. “This place is beautiful, Kallisto. And I dunno about you, but I don’t see any bodies. The bats aren’t dead, they left. Maybe they found somewhere better. We just have to track them down.”

Kallisto sighed. She didn’t move from beside the opening, one hoof constantly on the frame. Maybe she had to be there, for the portal to work. “If they had perished, there would be no bodies. We are created of the swirling essence of the dreaming, Mira. Visitor or native, plant or mountain or insect. Without the will to bind that essence, they would dissolve back to the fog. They could have all perished, and we would not know. Now come on. You still have a body to return to. Go out, and live. Maybe your children will give our tribe a better future. We will find it in no other realm now.”

Mira took another step backward. “My whole life that’s all I’ve done, Kallisto. Hide from the Solar Army, hide from the unicorn who followed me home. Hide from the other bats who realize I don’t have a family. I’m done hiding. If this place is broken, then I’m staying to fix it.” She lifted up into the air, scanning the city around them. There was so much to explore here she didn’t know where to begin.

This was like the old bat cities, if the Solar Guard hadn’t razed it. It was like that and more. Erebus was bigger than Canterlot, bigger than the Two Sisters. If only the bats had still been here. “You can’t help,” Kallisto said. “Hurry, Mira. My strength fades. When the sun rises, the road will collapse. I have nothing more binding me to that place—I cannot open the way again.”

Mira landed, but kept well out of reach. Kallisto still hadn’t retreated from the portal—that had to mean she couldn’t be dragged in unless she held it open, right? “Somepony has to! They’re all waiting for someone else to solve their problems! Maybe the other ponies will forget and leave us alone! Maybe Celestia will forgive her sister? Maybe next year will be better? I’m bucking sick of maybes, Kallisto. Somepony has to fix this—and I guess I’m the only one there is.”

Kallisto sighed again. “Mira, your heart is as noble as ever I’ve known you. But nobility alone can’t change our circumstance. The only pony who could make a difference in this world or that one was banished to the moon. Without her, all we can do is survive. There’s no shame in knowing your limits.”

No, the shame is accepting the limits other ponies give me. Kallisto meant the best for her. She could go back through that doorway and return to her old life. She could bury Kallisto’s body in the crypt beside all the other ancient monks and scholars, and maybe take over the monastery in her stead. Would bats bring her offerings? Or would she be the first monk who also had to dig through the trash?

“Then somepony should find her.” She took off again, and this time wasn’t just hovering. “We’re in Nightmare Moon’s world, right? She is here somewhere. We just have to reach her.”

A single trickle of orange light emerged from the old wooden door down in that ancient temple. But where it passed underneath, it struck against the portal like a charging minotaur. Brilliant orange light bathed them, so bright that Mira shielded her face with one leg.

Kallisto squeaked in pain, and the portal vanished. The terrible orange light went with it, leaving the two of them in the comfortable, foggy twilight.

Kallisto slumped to the floor, melting even quicker than she had the last time. “That’s it, Mira. That was the last gift I could give you. You must find another Dreamwalker, if you ever hope to return. The dead can build no roads to the world they left.”

Mira could still imagine herself there on the floor, sleeping beside her dead teacher. Would petitioners find her there tomorrow night? Would they think she was dead too, and bury her? She took a single deep breath, not letting that thought go any further. Worrying about things that could happen was the swift road to madness. “No problem. Nightmare Moon is a dreamwalker, she can send me back. Just tell me where to go.”

Kallisto looked up, face streaked with tears. “Mira, you have no idea what you’re saying. If it was that easy, think about how many other ponies would’ve found her already. We’ve gone without our princess for so long. If bats could find her, they already would have.”

“Unless they all thought that, and nobody tried.” She moved in a slow circle, taking in the monastery. Even if the danger that had come to this city was gone, scavengers would find it eventually. Whatever we’re going to find here, we need to take it and go. “Where is she? How do I get there?”

“The moon. Nopony can get there. She’s banished.”

“We’ll see.” Mira marched past her, through the doorway that had once been a portal. The interior didn’t look promising, maybe scavengers had already been here. Many drawers were opened, and there were blank spots on the walls where tapestries had obviously hung. Plenty remained, though they depicted mostly nature scenes—countryside by night, mountains under the moon. Rivers and lakes reflecting the stars. Pretty, but not terribly useful.

Map. Where would I find a map to the moon? The ancients had been explorers, hadn’t they? There was Star Drift, who had discovered Equestria while wandering this place. I don’t need a temple to the moon, I need something dedicated to him.

“Didn’t you say there were ponies who kept exploring to honor Star Drift’s name…” She emerged from inside seconds later. Kallisto hadn’t moved. “Are there Star Cartographers in Erebus?”

Kallisto nodded weakly. “There were. Look for his compass cutie mark… Mira, you can’t do this. You don’t even know the Dreamlands. You don’t know its dangers, you don’t know its magic. You’ll die.”

Kallisto’s expression changed them, realization passing over her. She rose, looking resolved. “If you die while your body still sleeps… you wake up.” She extended one hoof into the air beside her. The foggy air seemed to coalesce, hardening into solid form.

A crossbow appeared there, made from shiny polished wood, and covered in silver moon glyphs. The same weapons used by the Lunar Army, before they’d all been destroyed. So far as Mira knew, there weren’t even any of these stored in museums.

“I’m sorry about the pain, student. But it will pass, and you’ll wake normally. It’s the only way I can save you.” She took the crossbow, resting the padding against her shoulder.

Mira didn’t stay there to see what happened next—she took off, flying straight up into the sky. It wasn’t the first time somepony had tried to shoot her with one of those. Unicorns had their own versions of that weapon, that could be levitated around and pointed however they wanted. But for other ponies, they rested on the pony’s neck, so that only one leg was needed to fire. They could aim decently high, to fire on a pegasus or bat attacking from above. But they didn’t fire straight.

A bolt shot up into the air beside her, arcing dozens of meters away. Mira could make out Kallisto mutter a frustrated curse. “I’m trying to save you!”

Maybe she was—but the appearance of that weapon did something in Mira that couldn’t just be switched off. Suddenly she was fighting to survive.

She took in the sky around her as she’d done when pegasus ponies were following her away from any city. Only doom waited if they caught her. They probably knew the terrain better, and they flew faster. She had to do something unexpected, something so clever they couldn’t react in time.

The city had hundreds of structures, maybe thousands, built as vertical as Understory hidden underground. Mira found the nearest building, flying as close to it as she could. Another bolt smacked into the wood behind her, a good distance away. She’s not very good at this.

Kallisto wasn’t very fast on her wings, either. She’d been grounded for decades, while Mira flew every night. I won’t let her catch me.

She circled around and around the spiraled structure, memorizing the layout of windows and open balconies on each pass. Then, when Kallisto was out of sight, she altered course, flying straight through a window. Then she spread her wings wide to stop as quickly as she could.

The inside was a richly-appointed apartment, finer than most she’d seen from even unicorn ponies back home. But she couldn’t stop to appreciate the night-themed decor or comfortable furniture—she dodged between it, emerging into an open hallway connecting many of the little housing units.

The whole space was in disarray, with clothing and little objects scattered everywhere. Maybe it wasn’t looted. An evacuation? But Kallisto wasn’t stupid—she had to find somewhere to hide. Many doors were shut, and she tried the nearest one—locked.

Instead, she peeked into an open unit, one with no windows open to the outside. She crept through the door, then clicked the door shut and locked behind her.

A voice echoed from outside, Kallisto’s screams. Her voice cracked on the wind, filled with some of the pain she’d come to expect from the ancient pony. “Mira, I’m trying to save you! If you stay here too long, your body will die! You need to go back!”

Mira didn’t go anywhere near the window. She crawled over an overturned bookcase and through a narrow opening into a closet against the wall. She could just fit, under the rack of fancy blue dresses.

It was the perfect place to curl up and cry.

Mira couldn’t say how long she lay there alone, with only her tears for company. More than once she heard wings outside. Kallisto shouted, demanding for her to emerge. Step out so her dream-self could be murdered, and she would wake up again.

If she was sent back to the waking world, then nothing would change. Nightmare Moon would stay gone, the bats of Equestria would continue to suffer. They deserved better—the race that could construct great cities and journey across the unconscious realm and fight a whole nation on their own deserved a second chance.

But could Mira fight for it alone? Eventually Kallisto’s shouts grew further away, as the bat wandered a greater distance in search of her quarry. Mira remained curled up in the little room, silent and still. There was no apparent passage of time in the world outside—no rising of the sun to banish one day and start another. That same perpetual fog never wavered, even moonlight casting the whole city in perpetual malaise.

Finally, something changed. Mira heard it faintly—scratching against the door, so quiet that she could barely make it out. She might not have heard it at all, if she hadn’t been hiding for so long. The sound was so small she probably would’ve just ignored it—a bug, maybe, or a small animal. Nothing that she needed to worry herself over.

But it got louder, a tearing into the wood. Was that loud enough for Kallisto to hear from outside? Probably not, even if she was right outside the windows. Is that something she sent? Some hunter to track me down and kill me?

Mira probably should’ve remained where she was, hiding until any trace of danger had fled. But she was no elderly master, and she lacked the patience. Sooner or later, she would have to face her fears. Will it hurt to die in here?

Mira crept to the door, ears alert. With the curtains drawn she could see nothing outside—but it had been hours since any shadow passed over her window. Kallisto was probably long gone.

There was no way to look through the door without opening it. Apparently the creatures here weren’t worried for their own safety. She still had to unlock it, peeking out through the narrowest possible crack. “Whoever you are, you better not attack me! I’m dangerous, and I don’t want to get sent away!”

There was nopony there—at least until she looked down. A little ball of fluff sat on the floor near the ground, one paw still lifted with claws extended. It was a cat—a tabby, one she’d seen earlier that night. “Oh.” She let go of the door, and it swung inward a little further. “Didn’t think I’d see you again. Must’ve been walking for hours.”

The little creature looked up at her and mewed, loud and annoyed enough that it almost seemed like a reply. Then she rose, walking forward through the open door with a slow, dignified gait. She marched right up to Mira, rubbing once against her foreleg, before continuing past her into the kitchen.

Mira hadn’t even bothered looking at the space. This was just a dream, so it wasn’t like she needed to eat in here. But the instant she thought about it, she could feel her stomach groan. Real or not, physical or not, Mira would feel a lot better with a nice juicy moth in her stomach. Or some mushroom, or anything really.

The cat stopped just before a strange-looking cabinet, one that towered over Mira and made a gentle humming sound as they approached. Then she mewed again, gesturing towards it.

“I don’t smell any dried meat in here, kitty,” she said, ignoring the metallic-looking cabinet to open and shut several of the others. Lots of brightly-colored boxes, but nothing familiar to her. No flanks of dried meat. Mira wasn’t too good to eat meat, if it came to that. Dried fish was better than starving. But the smell was strong, and she could see none of it here.

The cat mewed again, ramming its little head into the base of the metal box.

It didn’t have a simple latch like any of the others—instead, Mira had to struggle with the handle, until she could take it in her mouth and finally yank the whole thing open. She stumbled backward a few steps, eyes wide. But that was all far less interesting than what she saw within.

A wave of cold radiated out from inside, spreading a thin mist on the floor at her hooves. The little cabinet had the frigid air of winter trapped inside! The space within was mostly empty, except for a clear glass pitcher. Milk, it was called? Luxury of luxuries, made for unicorns so rich they could house and feed an entire group of other creatures just to harvest a little milk.

The little cat mewed again, satisfied.

“You’ve got expensive taste, little one,” she muttered. But it wasn’t like Mira would use it. Ponies didn’t just drink the stuff, it was used in baked goods. Like eggs, but even more absurd.

Mira found a little bowl, settling it on the ground in front of the cat before filling it with milk. She settled the pitcher back where she’d found it, going back to the cabinets to search. These bats really did live in luxury. Cold whenever they wanted it, their own stove and supply of food.

Mira searched through the other cabinets until she found something edible. Another brightly-colored box, though this one was covered in images of flat crackers. She fiddled with it for a time, before tearing it wide open with her mouth to get at the crackers inside. They tasted flat and stale, but at least it was something to fill her stomach.

Do I even need to eat here? Can I starve to death?

She still had a real body, lying on the ground beside her dead teacher in the monastery. How long did she have before that body got sick and starved?

I have time. I don’t need to save the world myself, just tell Nightmare Moon how bad things are. She’ll rush back home to save her ponies after that!

She glanced to the side, and found the cat had lapped up a little of the milk. “Good luck, cat,” she whispered, walking past her out the kitchen. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She left, walking slowly down the central hallway. She could’ve gone for another opening, and flown out a window. But that motion would be obvious, even from far away. That was the way bats got around.

But there was another way. Mira reached a round stairwell, stretching down through the towering building towards a distant ground floor. Her murderous teacher wouldn’t be able to kill her if she never saw her.

Kallisto wouldn’t be able to come with her. She couldn’t guide her through the Dreamlands. She couldn’t protect her and help her find Nightmare Moon. Mira was alone.

She walked slowly down the steps, taking each stair with the solemn hoofsteps of the damned. All this care to hide, and Kallisto might notice her the instant she stepped outside. She could still get killed, and lose this chance forever. The pony who should’ve been her strongest advocate wanted to get rid of her.

“Wait for me!” called a voice, so tiny that she almost missed it. Mira looked up, and found a little figure lingering on the top step, about a flight above her. She hadn’t gone far yet.

Mira froze, turning to stare up at the cat. “Did you just…”

“Yes,” the kitten declared, exasperated. “Get back up here, long-legs. I already came up all these. You can carry me down.”

Mira turned, climbing back the way she’d come. She hadn’t come very far yet, so it wasn’t like she was losing much progress. “How are you… Actually wait, this is a dream. I guess it makes sense that cats can talk. Why not?”

“Why not indeed,” the kitten said. She took a few steps back, wiggling her little rump. Then she jumped, landing on the railing with surprising dexterity from such a small animal. She hurried along a few steps, before jumping again, this time directly at Mira’s back.

She froze in place, holding still as the cat fell towards her. She knew the instant it hit from the brief, sharp pain of claws digging into her back. But it wasn’t like the cat was trying to scratch her. It only held for a moment, just enough not to fall off.

“Wait! I didn’t say…” She hesitated as the cat crept between her wings. She stopped near her neck, but didn’t attack. Little teeth like that were probably too small to do much damage anyway. This was no assassin. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know,” the kitten said. Its voice was wistful, pained. “Confused. Maybe a little lonely. Mostly bored. Who are you?”

“Mira,” she said flatly. She spun slowly, back towards the steps. This absurd cat might have followed her all the way here, but she wasn’t going to lose time because of her. She still had a princess to find. “I was asking for your name. But I’d settle for why you wanted to find me. I’m not very good at caring for animals—I’m on a mission.”

She felt little claws dig into her back as she started back down the steps. Without claws of her own, Mira couldn’t be sure how much strength it took. But it felt like the cat wasn’t being particularly courteous. Did it really need to hold on so tightly?

“That is why I followed you. You’re going somewhere. I felt it swirling around you, I feel it much stronger now. You have purpose. You want things. I want to be with someone who wants things.”

Maybe she should shake off the little animal and glide down to the bottom floor. But as irritating as those claws could be, the idea of going the rest of the way alone was worse. “Do you know anything about the Dreamlands? I’m trying to find somepony. Maybe you could help me.”

“Help you…” the little voice said. “Yes, you smell like you need help. Me too. We can help each other. Right now you should help me find somewhere warm. I just had a great meal, and I would like to rest.”

She didn’t slow. Amazing how such a little voice could sound so confident. The kitten spoke like she knew exactly what she wanted. That made one of them. “I’m looking for the Explorer’s Guild. I mostly need them for maps, but they should have gear for me to steal. Maybe they’ll have saddlebags I can wear. You could sleep inside… but I don’t know how long this trip will take.

“A warm fire would be better. Or a nice rock in the sun. But the sun never rises in this place. It’s always gloomy, all the time. I don’t know how you long-legs stand it.”

There were little windows every flight, each one in exactly the same place. Mira stopped beside one, hesitating long enough to stare out into the not-quite-night. “It’s nice. But you’re a cat… I’ve seen plenty of cats awake at night. You hunt, don’t you? Not the same things we hunt, but…”

The cat made a dissatisfied sound, not quite any specific word. “Nothing wrong with the night. Day creatures get lost and bumble around, knocking over things. But you need the daytime eventually—to rest where it’s warm and wait for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how the weather works here, but I’m not staying. I need to get up there.” She pointed with one leg, up at the faintly glowing disk of the moon. “Might be a long trip.”

The cat circled once on her back, before settling across her with legs trailing down either side. “If we must. Who am I to question the horse with too many wings? Don’t knock me off during the climb, or I’ll have to claw you.” She yawned loudly, then started to snore.

Mira made her slow way through the city of the dead, eyes glancing periodically up towards the sky. Any moment Kallisto might emerge from the clouds, descending on her in a flurry of blades and unstoppable attacks.

She knew one fact above all others—if she got caught here, it would not be a conflict she could win. Her master had spent decades in this place, maybe longer. It was hard to say how that worked in a realm without time.

When Mira finally stepped out into the misty gloom, she saw nothing gliding overhead. No wings disturbed the air, no hooves sounded on the pavement. Does she think I flew away? Or maybe she just gave up... Either way, Mira would take advantage. If she could reach the guild and gather necessary supplies before Kallisto thought to check there, she might stand a chance.

"How does time work in the Dreamlands?" she asked, glancing back at the kitten resting on her shoulders. "When Kallisto talks about coming here, she sometimes goes on and on about the years she spent going someplace, or learning from mysterious monks in the mountains, or whatever."

The kitten stirred, claws digging painfully into her back. But all it did was groan and roll over a few seconds later, falling back to silence.

Mira didn't rouse it—besides, maybe talking while she was out in the open wasn't a good idea. She couldn't glide around with the cat on her back, so she had to take her steps nice and slow, so her hooves would make as little sound as possible. Where she could, she walked on the dirt planters and over wilting grass, instead of clopping on pavement.

She wasn't attacked all the way to the building she was looking for. Strangely, the explorer's guild was set apart from much of the city. Instead of blending into the structures all around it, the skyline was clear for long enough that it had an uninterrupted view of the sky. One side of the building was dominated with a huge round structure, with an elongated, reflective metal cylinder emerging from within.

She turned to ask Kallisto what it was for, but there was nopony there. Of course, that pony wanted her dead.

Not dead. She wants me back in Equestria. She doesn't think I can do this. I won't die if she kills me here.

But that was small comfort now. Mira could still see Kallisto flying just behind her, wielding a crossbow and baring her fangs. One shot would probably be enough to send her back to the waking world... but she'd missed.

Nightmare Moon must be protecting me. Maybe she knows how important my mission is. Any religious reverence to the “traitor” princess was banned now, of course. The Solar Army would execute ponies who taught such beliefs, and merely beat anypony who prayed to her.

But those ponies wouldn't find her here.

Mira slowed as she approached the front gates, struck by the strangeness of it. The building had sheets of... glass? Both doors were made of it, thick plates larger than anything she'd seen even in drawings of fine palaces. Perfectly rectangular, and somehow strong enough to be set with bits of metal along the edges.

Even stranger, they seemed to see her, sliding out of the way with a gentle hum. Pleasantly cool air drifted out from inside, lifting her mane just a little.

That was finally enough for the cat to stir, twitching once before standing up on her back. "Where's this? Leaving the city?"

"Soon." Mira strode inside. The interior was well-lit, like the halls and stairwells of the strange building. Like the crystal lamps used in unicorn buildings, though these were set into the ceiling above her. They also produced a pleasant moonlight glow, instead of the harsh sunlight that unicorns seemed to prefer.

It was like nowhere she'd ever seen. The floor was polished white stone, with strange maps and diagrams blending into one another. Maps, maybe? Maps of worlds stacked upon worlds, ascending up and down in an infinite series. Yet there was also a great globe, rotating slowly in a large fountain.

She approached, ignoring the protests of the cat on her back. She didn't seem to like the cold air, but that was her loss. It was nice to take a break from the jungle humidity, at least for a little while.

"Equus," she whispered, resting one hoof briefly on the map. The sphere wasn't hollow, as she'd guessed, but weighed so much that it ignored her resistance completely. "I wonder if the sun princess has a map this good. It's so detailed."

She had to walk in a slow circle as the ball rotated, until she finally found her jungle home. A tiny glowing dot near a particular river, and the jagged lines of a mountain range.

Finally the cat seemed to grow frustrated with her, and hopped off her back to the ground beside her. "This is not getting us further from the cold and fog, bat. Are you lost?"

Do you even listen to a word I tell you? Mira turned her back on her and trudged away, up towards a distant staircase.

Such wonders could be built here in this realm of dreams—the stairs were made of glass, apparently unsupported. They ascended up into the vaulted space overhead, which was dimmer than the rest of the room.

She made her way up, mouth falling open as she realized why the room overhead was dark. It wasn't that there weren't any magic lights. It was that the sky itself had been condensed, filling the vaulted ceilings. Clouds of nebulous blackness glittered with stars, faintly shimmering from within.

"Like they trapped the sky..." she whispered, reaching towards them with one hoof. The clouds retreated from her touch, fading away before she actually made contact, and returning when she pulled back. "What is this?"

"Who cares?" the cat asked. "Pony, you should listen to cats. We know things... and right now, I know that this town doesn't feel right. It's not a place we want to be. We should go."

Mira did turn to watch, trying to judge the animal's feline expression. She hadn't been around many cats in her life, but she did smell like she was actually worried. More than just the cold and darkness, then?

"We're looking for a map, then we can leave." Mira hurried up the stairs, into a landing of heavy shelves and racks. Most were empty, but Mira recognized some of this. Camping gear, rolls of packed supplies, and more of those little cylinders with metal tops.

She selected a set of saddlebags from one rack, shrugging them on. Instantly they were nicer than anything she'd ever owned. Sturdy material, with a faintly fleshy smell to it. But it was strong, soft when she tightened the strap, but without feeling like it was going to tear.

She started knocking things off the shelf with her wing. Most of it she understood, but she grabbed a few of the little things too, strange metal instruments that probably made sense for dream explorers, even if she didn't understand them yet.

"Aren't you a dreamer?" asked the cat, trailing along beside her on one of the shelves. She'd picked one right at head level, and glared down into the saddlebags. "Bringing things is such a waste. You can make what we need. We need to leave!"

"If I knew how to do that, it would probably be a great idea. But I don't. Can you?"

The cat tilted its head to the side. "Cats don't need to make things, we find them. Ponies are the ones who need all this... things."

Mira finished loading up her saddlebags—not so much because she was confident in her choice as the weight was beginning to push her down. She would already be slower in the air with this much. Any more, and she wouldn't be able to fly at all.

She turned down a steep bend, and suddenly they were walking past the faces of bats in a long line. Stern, judgmental faces, the way Kallisto had once looked at young ponies who came to the monastery begging for “magic powers” to use against the solar army. Bats with names printed in thick gold letters under them, like Ivy and Jackie.

"Sorry I'm stealing from you," Mira whispered. "I just want to steal one more thing. I need a map to the moon..."

She rounded the corner, and stopped dead in her tracks. Had they been listening?

She stared into a library room, expanding outward in all directions. So far, in fact, that it didn't seem like it could even fit through the door. How was there enough room?

Vast wooden shelves rose dozens of feet to the air, each one overflowing with books. They came in every variety—folded codicies of parchment, dense scrolls, and fabric-bound tomes. They scattered outward along the floor in places, piling high on a few study tables.

A few chairs were knocked over too, and pools of melted candle wax had stained the fine blue carpet in places.

They left in a hurry. Mira ignored her feline companion, reading the headings on the floor. The books here were separated by topic, she could use that.

"Cartography means maps, right?" She didn't wait for confirmation, trotting off that way. As she walked, she passed "Thaumic Studies", where it looked like a minor hurricane had blown in just before her. Dozens of books were ripped off the shelves, scattered and spread on the floor like somepony had been trying to read them in a hurry.

Read them, not bring them along. Why?

"Who cares?" the cat asked again. "I'm beginning to think you don't care about getting killed in here. You know there's ways they can hurt you, even if you're dreaming. There are things that can make you crazy. There are things that can trap you forever, feeding on you till you die. You need to be smart if you wanna live."

Mira reached Cartography, and found it different than the other parts she'd passed so far. Instead of shelves, this section had little boxes along the walls, each one with no more than four scrolls inside. Some were protected in thick tubes covered in straps, but most were just rolled, waiting to be read.

"I just need to find a map to the moon," she said. "That's the only thing I need."

"You want a map to... what?" The cat perched on a nearby table, looking up at her in confusion. "You really are crazy, pony. The moon is above us. No one goes there!"

"Nightmare Moon was banished there," she said. "That means there's a way. If even the day princess can send people there, it must be somewhere bats can get to. This is where we came from."

The cat meowed disapprovingly, but couldn't stop her. Mira hovered up into the air, scanning the shelves. She could make no sense of the little tags labeling each cubby—they were just a few numbers, not very helpful. But a map all the way to the moon needed to be important somehow, right?

Then Mira heard it—something grinding and scratching in the distance, metal bending and glass breaking. It began quiet, but soon rose to a terrible roar. She was flying now, but she could see the shelves shake slightly.

The cat squealed in terror, clambering up towards her in a few bounds and leaping onto her back. She landed on the saddlebags now, and Mira didn't feel her claws anymore.

"See what I mean? I tell you things, but you don't listen! Too big, too slow, too dumb..."

Another metallic grinding interrupted her, louder and closer than the last.

Those are buildings falling down, she realized. The library did have windows, and Mira hovered up to one, staring out. This city was huge, but she could still see the source of the noise.

Far in the distance, near the edge of the city, the gigantic towers were beginning to collapse. Great plumes of smoke rose as they fell, billowing outward in all directions and concealing whatever was doing this.

It won't stop, she realized. The whole city is crumbling, and I'm right in the center.

Another terrible crash shook the ground all around Mira. She hovered high enough that she wasn't jostled, but the shelves weren't so lucky. One of the nearby sections rocked backward, then toppled over with a crash. Wood splintered, and dense map-scrolls went flying.

The impact was enough to dislodge the next shelf in line, which crashed as it toppled too, perpetuating a chain-reaction of book destruction.

The little kitten had clearly seen enough—she wedged into the saddlebags, and barely even poked her head out to watch. "That's enough, pony! How about we fly out of here, yeah?"

Without a map?

There was no more time for delay. Outside the window, the cloud of distant smoke grew larger and closer as more buildings fell. What was even doing that? They weren't toppling over like the shelves. Something was tearing them straight down, one after another. Something she couldn't possibly resist if it caught her.

Mira took one last look around the room. She found the biggest, fanciest-looking roll with its own protective case, and scooped it on over her shoulder. Then she flew, back out the hall and the way she'd come.

The terrible roar only grew louder as the seconds passed, so loud that she couldn't think. If her cat was even trying to say anything anymore, Mira wouldn't hear it.

Another sound joined the steady collapse as she made it outside, one too subtle to hear through the walls. Something was grinding through the city, like teeth rubbing together.

Something is coming up from underground, eating the whole thing one bite at a time. Not even in the worst stories of the Lunar Rebellion had horrors like this been manifested. This was something out of a nightmare.

I am in the Dreamlands. What can happen to ponies here?

The magical door felt quite a bit less magical as she approached, making it only a few inches before it came grinding to a halt. She shoved up against it with one shoulder, pushing it far enough that she could make it out into the street.

What had once looked like a piece of beautifully-preserved art was coming apart from all sides. Little food-carts had toppled over, wagons and carriages were crushed under collapsing buildings, and the ground continued to shake. The very stone under her hooves was rebelling.

Kallisto wouldn't do this. No matter how much she wants to send me home, she wouldn't destroy this place. What if the bats came back?

"Higher!" yelled the cat in her pocket. "Higher, pony! We need to get away!"

She galloped forward a few steps, then took off in a wide arc, flying straight up as fast as she could. Every beat of her wings was a struggle, desperate and terrified. She accelerated, turning her back on the encroaching collapse. Flying straight up was the hardest possible kind of flying, and not easy even for fit bats like herself. So she flew forward, angling up as much as she dared.

Numberless years of history crumbled to dust and torn metal beneath her, collapsing into a growing cloud of destruction.

Mira felt it might catch her any second, dragging her down to be crushed into nothing. She would wake in the real world, and bats everywhere would lose their last chance at liberation.

It might've been seconds away, reaching for her with every flap. But the attack didn't come.

Soon enough she had passed the last of the structures, flying higher and further than the extreme edge of the unusually perfect streets.

Only then did Mira dare to stop, turning to stare back through the gloom at the city she had just left behind.

Well, there had been a city there. A growing cloud stretched upward, concealing the edges of what had once been Erebus. I hope Kallisto wasn't still there. What happens if you don't have a real body to go back to when you die?

That probably meant the real, final end, just like other ponies. She wouldn't stay. She wasn't still looking for me.

"I understand not wanting to move before you had to," said a tiny voice. The cat didn't perch on her back, not with her wings still working to keep them airborne. It wasn't much effort to hover, particularly when she had a current to exploit. But the winds here were harsh enough that they could probably pick up a little fluff ball and fling her back to the ground.

"It shows your skill. Land the perfect jump, fit through the right opening. Pounce exactly right on the perfect prey. But that was too close for me. Dreamer, we need to make a decision for you and I. Do you want to wake up, or not?"

Earlier today, she might've played along. Out in the real world, a talking cat would've delighted her. But Mira had just watched one of her few friends in the whole world die. She'd fled for her life, then barely survived the collapse of a city that was supposed to be eternal.

Now she was alone, in a world as unknown as it was unfriendly. She didn't have the patience. "You don't have to stick with me, cat. You followed me. You can leave."

"I know that. I'm trying to be helpful—that's what psychopomps do, right? So listen to my help, dreamer. Don't take risks like that. Why do you think the city was empty? You don't leave somewhere you worked hard to build if it's safe. You leave because it's dangerous."

Beneath them, the clouds began to part. Mira was over a kilometer up by now, higher than the tallest buildings. But seeing through it made her want to ascend a little higher.

Through the smoke, she could see torn buildings, crushed and half-submerged in a sea of molten red. Flashes of energy lanced outward from within, lightning that went the wrong way. Each flash brought a terrible crash only seconds later. Some even seemed aimed at her.

"So what would you do?" Mira asked. "We just escaped the end of the world, it seems like. The only pony I thought would help me tried to kill me. The city full of safety and supplies is gone, and... getting gone-er.

She started flying again—backwards, since she couldn't quite bring herself to look away from the disaster far below. "I'm not even sure I have a map to the place we're actually trying to go."

"If I were me? Which I am, so... I think I'll take a nap in here, see where things end up. If I were you? Think about waking up. You don't really seem to know what you're doing. Maybe you should go back and ask... whoever sent you here, for more practice? You have lots of passion, that's good. But you're so clueless. Just land before you wake up, please. I don't wanna fall."

Wake up? Like she could just... do it, if she wanted? Kallisto probably could, before. She'd spoken of travel to this place, and its rules. Mira could probably think over some of those, maybe even use those stories to figure out more about this world. But not right now.

"Maybe I should take a nap," she said, wistful. "Things usually feel better after a good day’s sleep."

The little voice no longer sounded amused. Now she was exasperated, running out of patience. "Oh, sure. Take a nap while you're already asleep. That makes perfect sense."

Mira opened her mouth to argue, explaining how hungry she'd felt earlier. She'd been willing to eat anything, even weird nut combinations from strange boxes. Yet despite all her hard work, despite who knew how many hours awake... she didn't feel tired.

Not physically, anyway. Mentally, she was exhausted.

"Where do ponies go when they need somewhere safe?" she asked. "Somewhere I can... collect myself? Try and plan my route."

The cat made an exaggerated yawning sound from within the saddlebags. "I never lived anywhere else... but the tall ones who lived here talked about Hope. Maybe you should go there?"

"You want me to go to hope? Why don't I just make a day trip to confidence while I'm at it? Better stay away from the peaks of soul-crushing terror, or I'll crash and the flight will be ruined!"

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." The cat yawned again, a little louder this time. "Good luck, dreamer. Just don't crash."

Soon enough, she was snoozing again.

No fair. She can sleep, and I can't. Instead of sleeping, Mira flew away from heaven as it sunk gradually into the fire and flames. The weight of her saddlebags meant the flight wasn't particularly fast.

If she didn't need to sleep, could she just keep exerting herself forever? How long would it be before she had to land? Even on her best days, Mira could rarely fly more than ten kilometers. She must've gone further than that by now.

Finally, she turned her back completely on Erebus, and flew into the misty clouds. Whatever future waited for her in the Dreamlands, she wouldn't find it there anymore. Nopony would.

Yet for some distance, there was very little to see. A thick mist rolled over the ground, so thick that she couldn't even see through it in most places. When the occasional gust of wind parted it from beneath her, she saw only the reflection of water. Was that a lake, a river, the ocean? She couldn't tell.

So she put her back to the city and flew, searching for anything stable. Even a rocky butte would be enough to land on and catch her breath. The Dreamlands did have lands in them somewhere, right?

Time was strange on that flight—without sleep, without food, without rest, Mira felt as though she might've been flying for days. Yet the sun never rose, and the moon never moved in the sky. All of creation was a single, gloomy blob.

Until she saw something, a single ray of light piercing the fog from far away. It cut through the smoke and the mist, illuminating a path all the way to plains of green, filled with flowers.

Land!

Mira sped up, turning her gentle glide into a dive. She tucked her wings, folding her legs under her body, and focused unblinkingly on the ground.

Mira barely managed to catch herself as she approached ground level, and stumbled like a foal as she came down for a landing. Dirt and grass sprayed out from around her, but she managed not to fall over.

Normally, the transition from moonlight to full sun wasn't an enjoyable one for a bat. The daylight meant more to fear from the ponies of Equestria.

But just now, it meant warmth on her coat and wings. It meant the shadowy ghosts that flew through the dead city of Erebus would have no darkness to hide in anymore. It meant that Mira could catch her breath.

Something stirred on her back, and the kitten emerged from her satchel. She hopped up onto her back, scanning the world around them with a glance. "Hope. See, that's what I told you. I hope for some warm milk this time, instead of that cold stuff you poured for me."

"I... what?"

"Don't tell me I'm not supposed to have milk," the kitten went on, barely even listening. "I'm still growing, I'll have milk when I feel like it."

So she didn't correct the cat. Instead, she took in her surroundings. The way she'd come remained a bank of thick clouds on the horizon, a swirling, almost-solid wall in the air.

But in the other direction, she could see a path cutting through the grass. Cobblestone and gravel, not the strangely flat roads of Erebus.

I couldn't die in the landing, right? I have the cat with me. She was still in the Dreamlands.

"Do you think this road goes to the moon?" Mira asked, breaking into a gentle trot.

The cat made a dissatisfied meow. "Not a chance."

"Great." Mira started walking. "Maybe it goes to somepony who knows the way."

And who won't try to wake me up. That would be good too.

Mira wandered through the sleeping world. Apparently she was in the land of Hope itself, though she didn't know what that would mean, or how it could possibly manifest.

But even she, a bat who usually shunned the full sunlight and wasn't welcome in the company of ponies who walked by day—even she had to admit there was something special about the land here.

Maybe it was the unusual light, which filled her with warmth without burning her eyes or making her sweat. Maybe it was the vista of rolling hills and grassy fields, that extended beside the path as far as she could see. Maybe it was the gentle birdsong in the air, and the brightly-colored little creatures as they zipped from tree to tree, serenading the perpetual sunrise.

It was the kind of place that could make a pony wish she'd been born into another era. If only this was the time before the Lunar Rebellion, when she could live alongside the unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies without fear for her life.

She could almost hear her younger voice, speaking to Kallisto in the quiet confines of the monastery. "Why did we go to war?" she had wanted to know. "Everypony says we lost a war with Equestria. But why did we fight in the first place?"

"Because the others were afraid of us," Kallisto had answered. Her voice was stronger then, and she didn't shake with every word. She could even stand and walk on her own, holding ancient scrolls for Mira to explore. She hadn't been able to read back then, but she liked to pretend.

"They were always nervous having us around. But the more years went by, the less ponies wanted anything to do with us. They were afraid that eventually there would be nothing but bats in the whole world. We were strangers, outsiders. Ponies have always feared what they don't understand."

It felt so proud from her back then. But now, after running for her life in a city of the ancient immortals, Mira found the words sounded trite and hollow. It was easy to use overbroad explanations on a filly who didn't know any better. But what about the truth?

Mira came to an abrupt halt as the path curved suddenly downward. It was steep, steep enough that she would probably start to slide if she went much further. Impossibly steep for the world she knew. Yet here, maybe the landscape could curve at something greater than a 45 degree angle, tilting towards the ocean.

But it wasn't the bleak, storm-wracked waters she had flown over on her way here. Even from a great distance, these waters were cerulean blue, with sand visible underneath. She could practically feel the comfortable warmth of it from here.

Apparently the builders of this city had also, because they'd settled the coast in both directions as far as Mira could see.

It was nothing near as strange-looking as Erebus, or as densely populated. This city was a snake, stretching along the coast so almost everypony would get some space beside the water. Yet the coast curved inward in a sheltered cove about a mile wide, meaning the city bowed out in her direction. The road she was on led directly to that city. Just up ahead, she could see a few scattered homes—farms, maybe, with fields overflowing with grain.

Earth ponies worked in those fields. None had noticed her yet. She considered what to do next, but only for a few seconds. If she stood in place, consumed with doubt, that would only let them catch her out. I belong here. I'm a bat, the Dreamlands are my domain.

She started walking, with a confidence she'd never had in the world above. Even earth ponies could be dangerous, if she didn't have enough space to take off and fly away. And if she was trapped in an area, they would remember her, and come back to punish her if they perceived some slight.

"Get ready," she whispered towards her lighter saddlebag, voice quiet. "I might need to get away in a hurry."

To her relief, she felt a shifting from inside the saddlebags. After a few seconds, the little cat crawled out from beneath the flap, hopping up onto her back a second later.

She shook herself out, stretching her back to full length in the sun. "I suppose a catnap will have to do," she muttered, not sounding terribly happy about it. "Couldn't you wait a few minutes more?"

Thank goodness for the sturdy leather saddlebags, so she didn't have those claws sticking into her back. Mira didn't watch her, but she could still feel the cat moving along her back, until she was just beside one of her wings.

"See them up ahead?" she whispered, voice as low as she could. But she was talking to a cat here—if any creature would hear her, this one would. "Those are earth ponies."

"Fascinating," the kitten said, exasperated. "You wanted me to see your cousins?"

Her "cousins" could see her. One had even walked to the edge of his field as she drew near, resting a heavy metal scythe on his shoulders. Those fields weren't tilted as violently as the road—they were built into tiers, like huge steps leading down towards the coast.

Stay out of his reach. "No. I wanted you to know they might try to chase me. Be ready."

She didn't slow down, didn't turn away. Mira marched right down the path, both wings opening slightly to keep her balance on the strange road. If she started sliding, she could always catch herself in the air.

"Welcome visit, dreamer!" called the farmer, waving one hoof in her direction. "I hope you've found yourself on a pleasant journey!"

Mira stared up at him, mouth falling open. At best she expected a curse, some quiet muttering about how she would be coming to town to steal or give people nightmares.

But that grin looked genuine. "If you fancy an ear of corn for the trip, pick anything in my field," he continued. "Peaceful slumber go with you."

"Th-thank you..." Mira muttered. She walked around him, right up to the cart he'd piled high just beside the road. She scooped a fat ear of yellow corn right off the cart, watching him. He only nodded with approval, waved, and returned to his field.

Mira pressed the fresh grain up against her mouth, breathing in the earthy scent of the husk. She wasn't particularly hungry, yet how long had it been since she got fresh corn! Empty cobs cast into the midden heap were one thing, but this?

She was tempted to start devouring it right there, but resisted. There were so many eyes on her, so many other earth ponies and even a smattering of other farming creatures. They were all generally pony-shaped, though a few were off in ways that she couldn't quite explain.

"Have an apple!" one shouted. "Offering to the dreamer!" Another offered a place for her at their dinner table that night, or suggested that she should come back in a few days for the harvest.

After her first gift, Mira denied all the others, tucking away the ear of fresh corn into her bag. She smiled as she did it, trying to imitate a little of their enthusiasm. Just because she didn't trust any of these creatures didn't mean she had to be a jerk about it.

Finally they left the farms behind, and neared the open gates to the city. Once alone, she was able to whisper to the cat: "I don't understand how this is possible," she said. "I've met nice ponies before. There was this old unicorn back in my town, who used to sneak me bits of food when he could. Warned me when the guard were coming... but they were rare. Not a whole city!"

Her passenger gave her an exaggerated yawn in response. "Where do you think this is, long-legs? You're in Hope, not Fear or Suspicion or Disbelief. Why do you think I wanted to come here? Now find someone with milk and get me some. You can turn down your offerings, but I deserve mine."

Mira didn't reply, slowing as she approached the open gates. There were ponies moving about inside, or more of the creatures that looked a great deal like ponies. She approached one of the nearer creatures cautiously, inspecting them.

Up close, she could start to see some of their differences. Their wings were thin and flat, though wider than any pegasus or even a bat's might be, with intricate patterns like a pair of watching eyes. Their body was covered in thin fluff, thicker at their collar and at their mane.

Then she smelled them, and the thoughts connected. A bug! They smelled like the juiciest, most delicious moth she could possibly get her fangs around.

Maybe that was why the pony looked a little fearful as she approached, wings opening and closing once. They took a few steps back, until they smacked into a signpost.

They had a pair of long antennae, covered in fluff—but it was their eyes that unnerved her. Utterly black, with only a slight shine to reflect the sunlight. "B-beautiful day!" they squeaked. "Here to enjoy the scenery of Greenleaf?"

He, she? Mira couldn't quite tell. Lower than her voice, but higher than most stallions. A child, maybe? "This is Greenleaf, is it?" Mira asked, ignoring their discomfort and marching directly over to them. "Do you live here?"

"Currently..." The voice had as subtle buzzing to it, and did a poor job hiding their emotions. "Please, dreamer, I've done nothing wrong. Do not be angry with me." They pawed at the ground, and their hoof was utterly silent as it dragged through the dirt. Like a soft cloth, instead of a sturdy hoof.

"Angry?" She tilted her head to the side, ears flattening. "I'm not angry with you, I'm just lost." She stepped out of the flow of traffic, though she had to do very little to avoid it.

Most of the population here resembled this pony, in various shades of brown and tan. Most wore nothing, and their voices formed a low hum that echoed through the streets of the strange city.

Beautiful streets, though. Bright tile on the floor under her hooves formed looping, mathematical repetition. She saw the curves of shells, starfish, and other sea life represented in brown and white, and somehow kept clear of dirt.

"Well, let me tell you where to go!" the strange pony continued, puffing out their chest a little and opening both wings wide. They took a few steps forward, then pointed down the road. "Where do you want to go, dreamer? If I know, I will tell you the way."

And get away from me as quickly as you can, Mira thought, grinning. Maybe there was something predatory in her scent, the same way Mira found the pony's smell somehow delicious.

"That's hard to explain," she said. "But in case you know..." She looked around, then pointed straight up.

Even in the light of full day, the moon remained visible up above. It was apparently waning now, a shrinking crescent. But Mira kept constant stock of its position in the sky the same way other ponies might watch for signs of a brewing storm. The moon was everything.

"I'm trying to go there. What's the quickest way to the moon?"

Silence descended on her. Any creature near enough to hear her fell totally still, including many passing moths. A few snickered quietly, though they covered it badly. Some didn't even bother, and giggled to each other.

But the moth in front of her only opened their eyes wider, glancing nervously to either side. "Y-you want to go to the moon? As in... the giant rock that's thousands and thousands of miles away? I'm afraid I only know where things are here in Greenleaf. M-maybe you should find somepony else."

Oh no. She lurched forward, snatching the pony's foreleg with one of hers. They felt strange to the touch—soft and velvety, like having a moth between her teeth. Only this time, she wasn't eating dinner. "Maybe somewhere else, then. Do you know any creature who makes maps? Or... maybe an explorer? Or... even others like me?"

"Like you!" they exclaimed, buzzing with agitation. They pulled at their leg, trying to get free—but Mira didn't let them. "Uh... oh! I know somewhere we can go. Follow me!"

Mira let go reluctantly, though she didn't think this creature could get away. "Sure! I'm Mira, by the way. Who are you?"

They glanced nervously to either side, as though expecting one of the nearby creatures to help them. None did, and their antennae folded back into their mane again. "I'm Sandy."

"Alright Sandy! Why don't you show me the way?"

From the very first day Mira had heard Kallisto's stories of the strange otherworld of the Dreamlands, she had imagined what her own visits might be like. Maybe she would be a brave and noble champion of realms unimagined, saving them from oppressive conquerors. Maybe she would discover ancient mysteries, and return to Equestria with the secret her tribe needed. Maybe she would find one of her own ancestors in the ancient place, living on in dedication to the lunar rebellion, who would offer her a boon in the waking world.

But for all of those things, Kallisto wasn't supposed to be dead, or trying to kill her. With another several years to learn how to safely explore the depths of the Dreamlands, she wouldn't be a frightened filly anymore, but a potent agent for change.

Of all the places she could make her first visit, Greenleaf in Hope was probably among the safest. If anything, Mira herself was the danger here.

She couldn't miss the way so many of the natives dodged around her, changing their routes to avoid intercepting her. Some looked on with pity at Sandy, who walked along just behind her with apparent reluctance. Yet Sandy hadn't tried to escape, or even asked to leave. Instead, the tour continued.

Mira watched with increasing confusion, even as Sandy explained the wonders of her home. Greenleaf was, in many respects, a perfect place to live.

She passed along the shore, with warm sands visible never further than one street. Many of the locals rested out there on the beach, though they had a strange way of experiencing them. They spread with backs to the sun, opening their strange wings to full size to shade them, and covered the beach with fascinating and bewildering patterns.

Sandy showed her where many of the locals worked, showed her the ancient walls that had once protected them from a siege, so far in the past that they hadn't even been alive for it. They passed through a strange marketplace, where things Mira didn't fully understand were traded by eager creatures shouting over each other while somehow remaining polite.

It was a menagerie of strange wonders. Hundreds of food-smells filled the square, bringing with them multicolored smoke that somehow managed not to pollute. There were stalls of beautiful silks like those used by the nomadic groups of her own tribe. But unlike the real-world bats, these were free to use all manner of elaborate shades, without fear of being crushed by the solar army.

Most of the merchants weren't moths. A few were locals, with mostly local customers. But most of the creatures she saw were other things. Some were recognizable tribes of ponies, and she began to circle around the marketplace, searching for a bat.

But there wasn't a single one.

She slowed as she passed one stall, where numerous maps were pinned to the back and sides of the structure. Sandy stopped too, though the crowds were thick enough here that she could probably have escaped. "Maybe they have what I need..." she muttered.

But Mira had dealt with merchants before. Bats rarely had gold, so they could usually only make an exchange with creatures who would accept barter. "Sandy," she whispered, or as close to a whisper as she could manage in the dense crowd and still be heard. "I need you to explain something."

"You need so much," they said. Possibly the bravest thing she'd heard from the creature. "What is it, dreamer?"

"There is so much for sale here. Your marketplace is filled with wonders. But I thought the Dreamlands let ponies create anything they wanted just by willing it."

"You thought?" Sandy faced her, wings opening halfway to either side. "Do dreamers just assume that this world works the same for others as it does for them? You can twist reality, to the fear and joy of all who live here. That is not an ability shared by many."

"Oh." Mira tried to keep her expression calm. But she started bouncing eagerly in place, wings twitching like she was about to take off. They know about dreamers! Maybe they can teach me!

"What if I want to buy one of their maps? What currency do I use?"

Sandy stared at her as though she'd just flown face first into a tree. "The same as anywhere, dreamer. Essence." They reached into their brightly colored robes, producing a little glass vial with a large round inside and a narrow neck.

Only this one apparently stored glowing liquid. There wasn't much, maybe an ounce at most. It glowed light violet, brightening and dimming gradually as though it were breathing.

"Essence?" She reached for it, but this time the moth pulled back, stashing the vial away. Apparently giving away their wealth didn't quite reach the level of what their service required. Mira didn't persist, letting them back away.

"Where do I get some?" she asked instead. "Where I'm from, we mostly barter with other creatures. Inside the city, we use bits and pieces of old coins from the bats that came before us. But we don't share them with regular ponies."

"Where do you..." Sandy's eyes just kept getting wider, or at least she assumed that was what she was looking at. But they were different enough that their bodies were just hard to compare. "How are you even here? Dreamer, you're a creature of infinite wealth. You carry essence from another realm, like all others. Whatever game you think you're playing with me... stop. We don't lie here."

Now they were making a scene. Almost-bugs from all over turned to watch. Some even gasped, or whispered to one another. But it wasn't Mira they were staring at.

"Neither would I," she said defensively. She probably should've kept her voice down. But with so many creatures staring, the pressure just seemed to mount. "I'm new in the Dreamlands. I don't know what this place is, I don't know how to get around it. My teacher tried to kill me instead of showing me what to do, and I thought... maybe Hope would be a nicer place to visit?"

She backed away, spreading her wings wide and taking off into the air. "I guess I was wrong."

She left the city streets below her, lifting up. Mira felt drained, but not exhausted in the way she might've been back in the real world. It wasn’t that she was tired, it was that she didn't want to be around anyone.

The Dreaming was supposed to be a place of perfection—the unconscious world where anything could be found, any question could be answered, and her own kind ruled as brave explorers and demigods of creation.

She didn't actually leave the whole city behind. She just needed some distance from Sandy. So she found one of the towering buildings, with an oversized balcony and a little furniture. Whoever built it had a great view of the ocean, with a bench to stretch out and relax on.

Mira didn't use their furniture, just curled up against the railing to look out at the city. The curtains into the house were closed. Hopefully she'd be gone before anyone noticed.

Her saddlebags shifted around her, and a little feline face appeared, wiggling out from inside. She hopped onto the ground in front of her, stalking past Mira. "That's not how most creatures react to Hope," she said. "Even long-legs usually have more sense. Did you have to be so loud?"

You're judging me too? But Mira didn't have the energy to abandon her. That would require more motion from herself. Just now, she just wanted a chance to catch her breath. "Nopony told me anything. Well..."

That wasn't exactly true. Despite what other creatures sometimes whispered, she did care about telling the truth. When it mattered. "Kallisto did tell me stories about this place. The ancient heroes who found it, like Star Drift. The champions of moonlight and darkness who fight off the forces of chaos. The Nameless City, the gentle gods who live in the frozen north... lots of stories."

"You didn’t think they were true?" The cat hopped up onto a chair beside her, until she was at almost eye-level. "You thought you were just hearing rumors? What's the point of telling stories if they aren't true?"

Had Mira believed them? She did believe in the Dreaming, even before. She'd braved a strange potion to see her teacher off one last time. But that didn't mean she had accepted everything about them. "I thought some of it had to be. I know bats used to be a noble tribe. We were respected, like unicorns. Our magic was noble and mysterious. Now it's forbidden."

The cat made a strange growling sound, hopping up onto a nearby table. There were no iced beverages waiting on it, unfortunately. "So what do you do about it, dreamer? The Dreaming declares no creature queen. But the brave can take that title for herself, if she dares."

"I don't want to be a queen," Mira said. She stretched out in the sun, expanding out her wings. The warmth of the sun was nice. At least here, she wouldn't have to worry about being chased off by the solar guard. Now if Kallisto saw her from the air, that would be different...

"I want to save my queen. She got banished to the moon. Because she's not around to protect us, bats everywhere are in trouble. We lost our cities, and now we travel from place to place. We have to hide from the solar guard, we can't practice our magic in the open. We can't even pray to our queen anymore. Everything was stolen.

"But if I can find her, show her the way back to Equestria, she could fix it. Nightmare Moon did everything she could to protect her ponies."

The cat stretched herself out in front of Mira, much as she was doing. Then she yawned, as though Mira's whole story was barely worthy of notice. "You're one strange dreamer, long-legs. You're lucky I found you, otherwise you'd just be completely lost. No friends, no one to protect you. No one to show you what to do. But all the best dreamers have a psychopomp, and I've graciously elected to take you under my claw. Your mission is just grand enough for a princess like myself."

Mira grinned, sitting up. So maybe her world wasn't completely helpless. At least the cat liked her. "Like a familiar?"

"No." The cat hissed, swiping at the air in her general direction with tiny claws. But she didn't actually cut her. "Familiars are servants. Look for a dog if you want a servant. They sure are loyal... but stupid. They'll never give you helpful advice, just do what you tell them. A psychopomp is an advisor—only another who travels between worlds can help you understand your role."

Mira's eyebrows went up. The cat might be annoying, but her words were surprisingly insightful for a kitten. Even if she was the first animal Mira had ever talked to. "So advise me then. How do I get to the moon?"

The cat didn't answer. Another set of hooves settled on the ground beside her, so light that she almost didn't hear them. But bats were all about the quiet, and Mira had spent half her lifetime sneaking. Nothing could hide from her.

Sandy stood there, balanced on the railing. They kept their wings spread, and somehow managed not to fall off despite not flapping them. How they could balance on such a narrow rail with only two legs, Mira couldn't guess.

It was probably just like the roads, and many other parts of the Dreamlands. Its natives just didn't have to follow the rules. "Mira," they said slowly. They took each word one at a time, obviously choosing them carefully. "Did you tell me the truth? You are... a stranger to this place? A god without a crown?"

She nodded. "I think I have a rain cap in my saddlebags somewhere. And my friend, uh... cat. She's pretty nice. But that's the truth. I don't know how any of this works. There was probably a library that told me everything I needed to know, but it kinda blew up."

"And you promise not to kill me?"

Mira's mouth hung open. But apparently that was the wrong thing, because the moth kept glancing at her fangs. "I promise. I just want to find my way to the moon, that's all."

The bug remained silent for another moment, apparently considering. Finally they took off. They barely needed to flap to stay airborne, more a gentle glide. "I might be able to help. Come with me."

Mira still wasn't sure if she could trust Sandy—but considering her luck with Kallisto, she didn't exactly feel like somepony with an overabundance of options. It was either accepting the guidance of a stranger, or else wander off on her own and pray that nothing found her.

The cat had been right about one thing, though—Hope was a great place to start. She had been in the city for at least an hour now, and it still hadn't been eaten by a monster tunneling through the soil. In terms of her experience with the Dreamlands, that was a record.

"We'll find him up in the tower," Sandy said. "He's always around—you know how dreamers are. Even the old ones."

"I, uh... I don't," she admitted. They flew together, along the roofs and balconies of the city. Amazing just how clear and perfect that water could be, even from up here. She could see right through the bay to the fish beneath. Maybe if she had a little extra time, she could try going for a swim. No chance of being stopped by a Celestial guard for questioning.

"You don't sleep, obviously," the moth said. "And you rarely enter sleepers' dreams, unless you're still alive. So he's here basically all the time. He calls it his 'retirement.'"

Somepony who didn't go to live in Erebus? Her interest was piqued. That did sound like the kind of pony who would be able to help. Even a dead bat from the past might care about the condition of Equestria today. Maybe even enough to help her in her mission.

They approached the balcony rapidly. Mira landed ahead of Sandy, her hooves clattering on a metal platform. Beside it was a single door, with a large window and the shutters drawn. A book rested on the little table here, but like so many others she found she couldn't read the text written on its surface.

"He is a very old dreamer," Sandy continued. "We must be calm and respectful. He has little power left, but much wisdom."

Whatever that means. She checked on the right side of her saddlebags, making sure that the cat was still securely inside. Only when she was sure did she step forward, lifting her hoof to knock.

The blinds snapped open, and a face appeared in the glass. Sandy had said old, but this stallion didn't look any older than Mira herself. His coat was bright, his eyes intent—and it took her almost five seconds to remember why. Like her teacher, he'd taken his afterlife as a healthy young pony. What she saw told her nothing of the pony's actual power.

"Well that's interesting," he said. His voice was thickly accented, but still understandable. Whether that was the magic of the real or the ancients had spoken the same tongue, she couldn't guess. "A stranger stands upon my balcony. Who do you bring to me, Sandy?"

The bug buzzed their way to the window, not actually landing. They lowered their head respectfully to the creature within, never meeting his eyes. "A dreamer on a desperate mission," they whispered. "She is ignorant, defenseless, and incompetent."

"Hey!" Mira snapped, turning to glare up at them. "That's overselling it a little. You can keep ignorant, not the rest of that stuff. You wouldn't last a fortnight where I grew up."

The stallion's grin grew wider. He brushed back a few strands of bright orange mane from a dark face—strange combination for a bat, such bright colors. Then he hopped down, and the door swung open. He blocked the doorway, not yet moving aside for them.

"I am Meridian," he said, extending one hoof in her direction. "What is your name, dreamer? What clan sent you? How are affairs in Ketumati?"

She took the offered hoof, meeting his eyes. "I am Mira, of clan Nightshade. As for Ketumati..." She leaned up to his ear, whispering. "The city is ashes. Its ponies are scattered, hiding, and enslaved. Our princess is banished."

Meridian twitched once, eyes unblinking. There was certainly something strange about him—a glow behind those eyes, and some faint patterns in the skin of his wings. They almost resembled the eye-marks on Sandy's wings, though they were so faint they might've just been strange birthmarks.

The tower room behind them was set up like an observatory, with a vast telescope located in the center and the walls covered in charts and stellar maps. True to Sandy's word, there was no bed in the space beyond. "Tell me truly, stranger. Why do you give me this news? What terrors drive you?"

What a silly question. Yet as she considered it, she couldn't help but think back to Erebus, shaking as its incredible structures collapsed. A whole afterlife's worth of bats, ancient and powerful—all gone. Was that worse than an evil sun princess?

I can't save two worlds. Focus on your mission, Mira. "My tribe are outcasts," she said. "We cling to old traditions, sheltered in caves. The solar army scours the countryside, dragging us away to captivity. We cannot be trusted to our own devices. And when they bring us, it is for a life of suffering. Our old ways are dying, almost forgotten."

Sandy landed on the balcony behind her, bug-eyes widening with horror. "I had no idea," they muttered, baffled. The poor bug looked like they could barely even comprehend such a description. But Mira didn't stop there.

"This is... awful news," Meridian said. "The worst possible. You shouldn't say it so loudly around here—the ponies of Hope can only handle so much bad news before they lose it."

I feel the same way, she thought. But I still have to live with it. She nodded anyway, with what she hoped was a little of the respect that this pony would expect from her. "I didn't come to the Dreamlands because I accept every horror that befalls me," she said. "Please, let me come in. I'll tell you my mission. If there's anything you could do to help."

He stepped aside, and Mira hurried through the door. She waited for Sandy to be inside with them before snapping it closed again. She glanced nervously through the glass, but Meridian didn't seem terribly concerned. Would the realm of Hope really be full of spies?

"You speak to me as though there was any possibility I could help my clan who yet walks the world of sleepers," Meridian said. He paced slowly around the telescope, touching it protectively with his wing as he went. The more she saw it, the more intricate it seemed. It didn't just match the description she had sometimes heard from unicorns—this thing was more complex than anything their observatories could boast.

Its opening was as wide as a pony, near the tower's roof. Over it were holes for half a dozen different lenses, each one made from glass as thick as her hoof. Strangely, the roof was open now, even during the day, though she couldn't see what it was pointed at. The room was shadowy, lit only by the light that bled through around the telescope, or streamed in through the still-open window.

"Don't take this as my being callus," the pony continued. "I care deeply for my cousins. If this horror is real, then... it is a great tragedy. I doubt the ponies of Erebus would tolerate it. Send your message to them."

He sighed, settling into a rocking chair beside the telescope. "But even they cannot go back with you and fight. Our bodies are gone, Mira. We have no life beyond the Dreaming. We can give you wisdom, or perhaps give nightmares to your enemy. We could guide you to their dreams, so an assassin appears in the bed of an evil creature. But it would still be you to hold the blade."

"It's too late for that kind of war," she said. "Erebus is gone too, Meridian. I flew from there." She hesitated. Maybe it would be better to speak with more sensitivity. This news had devastated Kallisto. How much better could this pony be? "It was crushed beneath an unknown attack. I barely escaped with my life."

"Impossible!" He crossed the room in an eyeblink, and suddenly was inches from her, hot breath against her face. His fangs were exposed, teeth bared, and eyes narrowed to slits. He gripped her shoulder with one hoof, so intense that the pain began to make her shake. "Say that again, Mira. The dreaming city of Erebus is not a place of stone and metal. It is here, in the Dreamlands. This is our domain. The dreamers rule here, living and dead. No force could strike against us."

She didn't look away. "I—"

"I saw it too," said a squeaking little voice, from her satchel. The kitten wiggled her way out, hopping painfully up onto her back. Sandy stared, but said nothing.

Meridian, though, he focused suddenly on her instead. "You speak for her, emissary of worlds?"

"Yeah yeah," the kitten mewed in annoyance. "I speak, she speaks, we all speak. I want some warm milk. Got any?"

"I... of course." The bat turned. Even he was apparently taken-aback by the cat’s behavior. "I will... right away."

There was no more enthusiasm in his motions as he crossed the room, and went to rummaging around through the kitchen. In a moment he had a little bowl, placed inside a metal box with a tiny window. It began to hum, and he finally turned back on Mira.

"The news is worse than I thought," he said. "The bats who lived there?"

"No bodies," she said hastily. "It looked like everypony had evacuated. Lots of doors were opened, stuff scattered everywhere. They left in a hurry."

"There wouldn't be bodies." The box chimed, and he opened it, removing the bowl and settling it onto the ground. The cat hopped off her shoulders, making her way to the bowl without a backward glance. "Our bodies were buried long ago, Mira. You may have seen our tombs, in fact. Once here, we are Essence, as surely as the moth beside you. Yet this does not mean they were slain. So many... I don't believe it could be. Did it look like a battle?"

"No," Mira said. "But I don't know battles very well. I was born hiding in a cave."

It took Meridian a full minute to say anything this time. So they sat in silence, broken only by the quiet slurping of the kitten and her bowl of warm milk. At least one of them had gotten what they wanted.

"I don't know what Sandy told you about me, Mira. But they're always overestimating what I can do. I chose Hope over Erebus because I enjoyed the company of their kind over my own. That doesn’t mean I want to abandon my brothers and sisters, but... what do you expect me to do? I'm just one bat."

Mira stood tall, right in front of him. She pointed at the telescope, puffing out her wings to try and make herself look bigger. She only had one chance to deliver this properly. "Nightmare Moon was banished from Equestria. Her sister locked her on the moon, unable to help us. I want to go up there and help her get back. I need somepony to help me find my way. Maps, charts, any kind of directions you can manage. Help me reach the moon."

Meridian stared, unblinking. She could read nothing on his face. "Banished, by Celestia? Was she responsible for Erebus as well?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think so. I didn't see any of her magic there, or her soldiers."

"Reaching the moon... you have no idea how dangerous that is. Are you prepared to commit to a journey of that magnitude? How many monks are with you?"

"None," she answered. "I'm the last. Will you help us?"

Meridian groaned, rising from his chair. "The chartroom is downstairs. Let's see what I can find."

Mira followed the bat down his winding steps into a world of shelves and scrolls. The space didn't seem terribly bothered about fitting into the apparent dimensions of Meridian's tower, but sprawled out in all directions as big as the old temple in Understory. They had to fly to navigate between its maze-like balconies, which were arranged about as nonsensically as any dream could be. Mira was certain she spent a good few minutes walking on the ceiling before they finally found their way to the first shelf that interested Meridian.

He removed one scroll wrapped in an ancient leather sleeve, then slung it over his shoulder and kept going.

"Meridian, I am... curious," Sandy said, following just a few steps behind the two of them. "Even for a dreamer, her request seems... esoteric. The moon is so far above. I have known many to be entranced by its light and try to fly there. It is better when they simply fail, but some do not return."

"Moths." He waved a dismissive wing. "Yes yes, anywhere is possible." He continued along the shelf, selecting a few more scrolls. These he shoved towards Mira to carry without so much as a request. "The Dreamlands is not a realm at all, Sandy. It is the absence of placeness. It is the foam that froths between all worlds, the condensed essence of intelligence."

Mira lifted her wings, that way she could hold the stack of scrolls as it grew taller. "When you say worlds, do you mean—"

"Yes, yes." He pointed one hoof vaguely in her direction. "There are numberless worlds besides the one you live on now. The moon is not actually a different world, though. It's a different rock in the same one. The same realm, if you like." He looked back, taking in her confusion. He scoffed, waving a hoof through the air again. "Nevermind. I'm not sure how you plan on getting there if you know so little about the Dreaming, Mira."

"I..." She met his eyes with difficulty, shivering under the pressure. He was right, of course. This mission was well beyond her capabilities. "I don't have a plan. Getting there is going to be much harder than anything I've ever..." She stiffened. "Someone has to do it. Would you rather be the one to go?"

He chuckled. "You may be ignorant Mira, but you're a living dreamer. You have power here that I could never wield. When you've been in the Dreaming for long enough, you become part of it. The time will come for you, eventually, when you grow old, and your body dies."

They walked together to a nearby table, and she dumped the scrolls she'd been carrying. Meridian began arranging them, reading the strange symbols with a glance before opening and unrolling each one. To Mira they seemed far closer to ship navigational charts than a land map that a pony might follow. But maybe that was a good thing? "I guess the power you're talking about will help me get there?" she asked. "Not that I know anything about how to use it. My teacher could do all kinds of amazing things here, but... she was the only monk left. She rarely had the time to teach me."

Meridian barely looked up from his work. He overlapped the different charts. Mira could make no sense of the arrangement, but it seemed meaningful to him. The corners of some had writing, though they were just simple words. "Fear" or "Anger" and "Despair." Those three took the center spot, arranged in a triangle with an opening in the center.

"First thing to know about Dreamlands travel: abandon any sense of physical congruity. Emotional connection is what matters here. Related feelings tend to border each other, unless for some reason they don't."

The moth settled down on her haunches beside Meridian's table, watching intently. They said nothing, and kept far enough away that they didn't interfere.

Her cat, by contrast, hopped right up onto the table and began prowling around it all, occasionally dislodging one of the rolls, or knocking an empty scroll-case to the ground. She wasn't nearly as graceful as she thought she was, apparently. "I’m done being inside," she said, tail swishing dramatically. "Can't this wait?"

Mira ignored her. "The Moon is on this map somewhere?"

"Right there." Meridian touched his wing into the open space between three overlapping scrolls. "If I did my figures right. I haven't had to navigate past a single planet since I was almost as young as you are." He stalked over to her, voice low. "Have you heard the term lunacy before, Mira?" He didn't wait for her answer. "This is where you will find it. Swirling somewhere between anger, alienation, and terror. Where madness reigns, where memory and reason abandon you. Where the Outer Reaches extend their tendrils down from realms unimaginable to warp and twist. Beyond them, you will find the moon."

Mira looked at the map. Sure enough, the three layers he had arranged did have features that overlapped. There was nothing in the space between them, other than a sea or ocean of sorts, trailing towards nothing. "This here," she said, pointing at the edge of one of the maps. "I need to reach it, then sail towards the moon. That's it?"

He settled back on his haunches, mouth falling open. "Were you even listening to me, Mira? Wasn't I dramatic enough in my reveal? Terror and madness lie between you and the moon. It is no easier to reach in this realm than it would be to find the magic to travel there in the waking world. If Nightmare Moon is imprisoned there, then you should know the Dreaming is no tunnel left in the back of her cell. She is trapped beyond retrieval."

Mira gave that assessment all of three seconds of consideration before shaking her head. "Kallisto taught me that bats came from another realm, long ago. We've done trips like this before, and we made it. The trouble we're in now is just as bad as anything Star Drift led the Thestrals through. We don't have a choice."

Meridian clicked his tongue impatiently. "Maybe it is, Mira. But you aren't Star Drift. He was an ancient dreamer even before we left the old world. His powers were greater than the Alicorns that live on Equestria now. You are..." He looked her up and down. His ears flattened, and she could've sworn there was a flicker of red on his cheeks. It didn't last. "Precocious. Brave. Foolish. The universe is a cruel and unfeeling place, Mira. It generally rewards bravery with painful death, not victory."

"I'll go," Sandy said. Their words were so abrupt they seemed to surprise even themselves. They circled around the map, before resting a hoof on Mira's shoulder. "This is what hope stands for. This is the lighthouse in a hurricane. Have you ever seen hope burn so brightly?"

Meridian rolled his eyes. "You can't help be what you are, Sandy. But please, both of you, listen to me. This is not a journey to be taken by the sane. You will travel through horrors you can't imagine. And if at the end of it all you do reach the sea of madness, you will wish you hadn't."

"I don't want to go," Mira said flatly. "But there's no world for me to go back to if I don't. I can't go live in Erebus, it's gone." She advanced on him, resting a hoof on his shoulder. "It feels like your world needs Nightmare Moon too. Don't you want to be the hero who brings her back?"

He stiffened at her touch, both wings opening halfway, before snapping closed again. "You don't have the capacity to comprehend the danger. Maybe, maybe a powerful dreamer could complete the journey. But I'm not powerful, and neither are you. Sandy isn't even a dreamer, she's just a figment!"

"I have to go anyway," she said. "If you won't come, fine. Can you draw me a map? Combine all of this into something I can follow?"

He met her eyes for several tense seconds. He was the first one to look away. "Go upstairs and tend to your psychopomp. Her service will be critical to you if you hope to complete this... mad quest." He reached down under the table, removing a fresh roll of paper. There were a few other drafting tools down there, a compass and triangle and different pencils. Had Meridian made these maps himself? "Don't touch the telescope. Make yourself at home otherwise."

"Thank you." Mira let go of his shoulder. "Even if you don't come with me, I'll make sure they know who helped. You're still a hero."

Meridian laughed ruefully. "Bold of you to assume you're going to survive this, Mira. While I work, take some time to reconsider. Step out onto the balcony, see the city of Hope. You may decide it's better to... let the powerful creatures of the world do what they're going to do. There's wisdom in accepting your place."

"Wisdom, maybe," Sandy said. "But despair also."

They left together. Mira couldn’t even begin to remember where they'd gone or what path had taken them through the map room. Sandy was there to keep her on the right route. Mira grinned at them as they left Meridian behind. "Thanks, Sandy. I can't believe..." She looked away. "You don't know what this means to me."

"I do," Sandy said. They patted Mira on the shoulder with a wing as soft as silk. "Hope is stronger than steel, and sharper than magic. But left alone for too long, and it can go out. You need someone." They clambered up the steps, into Meridian's huge combined living area/observatory. "He may be right. This journey will probably be the end of me. But that isn't the tragedy he thinks it is. Hope is only meant to live long enough to get you through the darkness. Eventually you'll build something better, and you can live in happiness instead."

Mira didn't know how to respond to that. But she didn't have to, because the cat hopped up onto her head, claws tugging on her mane hard enough to make her yelp. "Open the door!" the cat said. "I need to get out."

Mira froze, fighting the instinct to shake the kitten off her head. She might not understand what possible reason there would be to have the little cat helping her, but she could trust these experienced dreamers. "Stop, stop! I'll take you."

"Good." The kitten hopped onto her back, without any particular gentleness. "These things are important, legs. You wouldn't understand."

She didn't understand, but she could at least walk the kitten to the balcony, and open the door. No sooner was it open even a crack than the little feline hopped past her, scampering out into the space beyond. She made it to the edge, and didn't even look back. She squatted down, shaking her rump for a few seconds, then leapt right off the side.

Mira gasped, hurrying out onto the balcony behind her. She looked down, but couldn't actually see the cat falling. "What?"

Sandy followed her out, a little more calmly. "You traveled here with a psychopomp, did you not? What did you think she was doing?"

Mira shook her head once. "I... what?" She stared down at the city below. The sunset outside was glittering orange on the bay, with water so clear she could see the rocky coral beneath. That water would probably feel wonderful, could she chance a few minutes away to enjoy it?

No, obviously. Meridian couldn't take too long to draw a map, could he? If she was gone, he might think she'd given up. Or worse, what if she could be tempted into staying here? "I don't know what that word means, Sandy. She found me outside Erebus, before it fell. She didn't really say what she was. Just... wanted some company."

The moth laughed. At least it didn't sound like there was anything malicious in it. "She travels between the sleeping world, and the waking. Like you, but... without the powers of a dreamer. She's a messenger of slumber. I'm told acquiring one is important for any dreamer who wishes to travel very far."

And having her around did make Meridian believe me. "So when she left..." Mira said. "She's going back to Equestria?"

The moth nodded. "I don't understand them very well. But they can bring more than messages between worlds—they carry power too. We are lucky to have her."

And I'm lucky to have you, Mira thought. But like the cat, she wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet.

Mira did not have long to wait for Meridian to work. The hard part was keeping herself from running off before he was finished. He had such a great view of Hope from the balcony, and the more of it she could see the more she appreciated his decision to live here.

The town was cozy, the sun perpetually just high enough in the sky overhead to keep from shining too brightly into her sensitive eyes. It must set eventually, right? Otherwise, what was the point of having a gigantic telescope in the center of your house?

Mira occupied herself raiding Meridian's kitchen. She was feeling hungry again, hungry enough to steal a little something. Meridian was a bat, and had many of the strange machines that Mira had seen in the Erebus home. There was a box that radiated cold, where she could find all kinds of interesting things. She filled a plate with fruits, and ate them messily while she waited. "I'm surprised you want to come with me," she said to Sandy, conversationally. "I'm grateful, don't mistake. I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

"That is hope," Sandy said. They sat opposite her, close enough to snatch something from her plate. Mira couldn't identify the strange fruit, so she wouldn't complain about its absence. "The bravery to proceed with a just cause even when you do not know how. I may be able to help you. It will probably kill me."

They said it so matter-of-factly, without a hint of resentment or hesitation. Like it was just one of the steps to cooking a stew. "I don't plan on dying," Mira said. "So you can live too."

"You have the power to make it happen," they said, swallowing the strange round fruit whole, stem and all. "Perhaps you will have the talent as well. I hope so."

The door banged open, and Meridian appeared, balancing a scroll on his back. He cut straight towards them, dropping it on the table in front of Mira. "What you wanted, Mira. You should know, you aren't invincible here. Even if your body still lives in the waking world, the creatures of this one can reach back to damage you. I have seen dreamers with their sanity in ribbons. There are some things powerful enough to follow you back along the Silver Cord, and slay your body as well as your dreaming self. You could still wake up, and return to your life. It would be the sensible choice."

He lowered his voice to a sympathetic whisper. "Couldn't you put this mission aside for a few decades, Mira? You're young, I can feel it. Find a monastery, and study! Come back when you know what you're doing."

That would be good advice, if it was possible. "There aren't any monasteries, Meridian. I was learning from the last of Princess Luna's monks when she died. Everything about how bats used to be is dead. If somepony doesn't bring the princess back, it'll stay dead."

Meridian sighed, nudging the map toward her. "I wish I could offer you more, Mira. The cause you're hunting for is a... noble one. Thestrals have been on the brink of extinction many times, survived many worlds and many nightmares. Last time it was Star Drift. This time it might be you."

"You could come with me," she suggested. She reached onto the table, sliding the map into her saddlebags. "If you want to help make sure I can make it, there's no better way."

He settled into the chair across from them, shaking his head once. "It's a cute offer, Mira. But I don't think I'd join if you had a whole expedition of trained dreamers and skilled warriors. Young people like you can be brave—if you die, you wake up. Unless you really got yourself into trouble, you're probably fine. If I die, it doesn't matter if it's a good cause. I'm gone forever."

She stood, tightening the straps on her satchel. Maybe it was better to wait for the cat to come back—but something told her the feline wouldn't need her help to find her. She'd arrive when she was ready, regardless of where Mira had ended up. "Sandy is coming. They live here too."

He looked away. "Forgive me for sounding unkind. I value my time living among the moths here in Hope. But they're figments, their lives are so brief they would pass without you or I even realizing it. Sandy's only hope for endurance is to attach themselves to something like this. They feed on hope, need it to exist. You're radiating it. And if you succeed, Sandy will be part of stories that ensure their survival for thousands of years, maybe more. They have less to lose, and everything to gain."

Sandy rose too, glaring back at him. "Our lives might be brief, Meridian. But that doesn't mean death is less terrible."

He shrugged, waving them both off. "You're both brave to go so far. Consider this, before you depart; Princess Celestia has gone to war with her sister. She does not have power over this realm, she cannot travel its shores. But she has allies who can. There are beings of the unconscious world who serve her will unflinchingly. If you intend to free her from captivity, they will be waiting to keep her in chains. Prepare to fight before the end."

They left, out onto the early evening streets of Hope. Mira took one last look back at the strange home of Meridian, hoping that the door would open and he would come rushing to her aid. He didn't.

She glided down to street level, then wandered for a short distance, until she reached the pier. There moths played in the sand, enjoying meals of strange nectar and sickly-sweet smelling fruit on the water.

Sandy followed behind her, silent for the first few minutes. But they didn't stay that way for long. "If you think I'm only doing this for myself, you could refuse me," they said. "I would rather you send me away now, when I am still safe at home. I will not survive crossing the Dreamlands very far by myself."

Mira looked back, and there was no need to fake a smile. "Sandy, I don't think Meridian can judge what people think. He's so caught up in what's good for him that he can't understand people doing things for better reasons. I'm grateful for your help... in fact, I'm wondering if you might know anyone else who might be brave enough to do something so crazy. Meridian's right about one thing, I'm not some powerful dreamer. I need every bit of help I can get. There have to be other creatures in this world who are still loyal to Thestrals. Someone has to care what happened to us."

Sandy walked past her, over to the railing. They leaned out over the water. As before, their bug eyes were completely unreadable. "There are not so many in Hope. Our lives here are easy, Mira. We appear to sleepers who need us. We share the feelings they crave, and get our necessary nourishment in kind. Meridian... is right. Our lives are brief, but better than most. With the castles of Happiness crumbled, this is the place that many would die to find."

More of those emotion names. Mira walked over to a nearby bench, produced the map Meridian had given them, and unrolled it. Sandy watched from just beside her, curious.

"This route is... complex. But it looks like we're traveling to somewhere called Courage." The path would take them straight through Courage, then curving out of their way to avoid a treacherous-looking country of sharp rocks and rapids called Desolation, before finally crossing into the Sea of Lunacy, and sailing straight to its center.

It looked like a journey that could take weeks, or maybe even months. Mira didn't have anything to compare against when she thought about the scale of the Dreamlands. Was it bigger than Equestria, smaller? She didn't know.

"If Bravery is like Hope, then... lots of people there are brave, right?" she began. "Someone has to be brave enough to come with us!"

The moth shrugged their wings, nearly the same gesture a bat would’ve used. "There are groups that might hear you. There is an association of explorers, called the Wayfinder Disciples... they wouldn't care about your mission, or what happened to the bats. But if you can convince them your mission would let them make new discoveries, that would be enough."

Wayfinder Disciples. It wasn't exactly the champions of bats she hoped for. But given she'd already been refused by one of her own kind, it was probably the closest she could hope for.

"Do you know the way?"

Sandy nodded. "To Bravery, anyway. Hope and Bravery have been allies for a long time. Many creatures say we're more than that—essentially connected, two faces of the same thing. It is not a long trip, but you will need to be brave. The journey demands courage, or you will never reach your destination."

"I had no idea," she said flatly, just a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Don't these names get confusing? Like, if you call all your places after feelings, then how can you have a normal conversation? If I say I'm hopeful, you won't know if I'm optimistic about our success or if I'm physically standing in your city."

"You'll be both, obviously," the moth replied, sounding more confused than defensive. "Eventually. A place has gravity, pulling all who visit until they are shaped in kind. Only a dreamer can fly against it, or those they shelter in their wake. If I traveled to another place and did not die, I would be one of its inhabitants in time. Without... you, that is. Together, we can go anywhere."

"All the power in the world, and none of the restraint," Mira said. "I sound just like Celestia. I hope other dreamers don't act like her."

But as she said it, she couldn't help but think back to her arrival in Hope. Sandy had reacted with terror, and the other citizens did everything they could to keep her from noticing them. They thought I was going to eat them.

"Dreamers are placeless monsters," Sandy said cheerfully. "A survivor of Happiness will greet you with friendship. A monster of Hatred will try to kill you. A dreamer might do both on the same day for no reason whatsoever. Few who treat with you survive to tell stories about it."

Mira tightened the straps of her saddlebags, rising from the bench. She wouldn't need the map to start, not with the moth to guide her. Though it didn't sound like Sandy wanted the job very much.

Without another word, they set off down the boardwalk, with Sandy leading the way.

"And you're still coming with me?" Mira asked, amazed. "You think that about me, you should’ve run for your life."

The moth touched her shoulder with one hoof. They didn't have fur exactly, but their whole body felt silky, like a spiderweb that wouldn't tangle around her. "You wouldn't be the first dreamer to come to Hope, and I wouldn't be the first moth to die because of it. We believe you can be better, if you want to. That might mean more of us die fighting beside dreamers on impossible missions—but there are more stories about the creatures of Hope than any other kingdom in the Dreaming. How else could we live in such a beautiful city, with such peaceful moths to dwell here?"

She pointed off towards the horizon. The city continued for a great distance along the coast, curving around the beaches and out of sight. The buildings did become sparse, the beaches worse attended, and the trail transforming from even wood to graded stone and gravel. "Your visit only confirms what I have always believed—your world is the nightmare. You need the people of Hope to save you. Maybe I'll even survive it."

What was Bravery, anyway? What would a country be like whose entire nature revolved around that single feeling?

The answer, as it turned out, wasn't painless. They'd barely even crossed the final imaginary line in the territory of Hope that Mira felt the world change. The air went from the gentle cool of the sea breeze to desert heat, unlike anything she'd ever felt from home. Her jungle was plenty warm, but that warmth came with moisture, and the scents of many living things. Here the only smell she could detect was heated metal and stone, a desert that stretched forever.

To their left, rocky crags and burning sand extended inland, overpowering the fertile moors and charming farmland. Occasionally she heard the squeal of a distant predator, or maybe the bellow of a wolf. But those sounds faded almost as quickly as they came.

The desert seemed alive with its own activity—the rumble of rocks as they crashed down into each other, the hum of wind on the dunes. These sounds blended together to her ears, confusing her sharp senses with the constant background noise.

At least the sun was finally setting. Mira had enjoyed the warmth of Hope, but the cool moonlight felt far kinder on her eyes. Unfortunately that setting sun took much of the heat as well. Sandy started shivering before she did, pulling out a coat from their pouch and flinging it over their back. Mira had no coat, but that was fine. She tucked her wings in a little closer, and fought the shivers as best she could. "What kind of dangers should we expect?" she asked, hoping for something to distract her from her growing discomfort. "You said moths go this way sometimes?"

Sandy nodded. "Sometimes with messages to Chilon, sometimes because they're inspired by the ideals of this place. Hope and bravery are closely linked—why be brave without hope? What purpose is hope if you lack the confidence to do something with your opportunity?"

Mira had no answer to either question, so just nodded. "That makes... sense. So what do we have to worry about?"

"Not the residents. Being brave is a choice, so they don't like to force it on each other. We won't be attacked, as a visitor to Anger might fear. I have... never made the trip myself, but I have heard some stories. The land itself is hostile, and cannot be trusted. Keep your wings alert, and your ears open. We should expect some danger to overcome before we arrive in Chilon."

A little voice spoke from her back, so small Mira almost didn't hear it. But this was a creature she had been looking for, so the little cat's words still reached her. "The point of being brave is doing things you think are hard. It's not self-sacrifice or suicide, so it shouldn't be so hard it gets you killed. I think."

Mira stopped in her tracks, skidding through the dirt as she did so. She turned, staring down at her saddlebags. The kitten rested there, little paws digging into the leather. But she hadn't been moments before, nor had she felt her weight jumping up. Granted, the little animal was so small she was easy to miss.

"You're back," she said. "I thought maybe I should go back and look for you."

"Can't go back without waking up," the little cat said. "I don't think you want to do that. You're trying to go to the moon!"

Mira started walking again, catching up with Sandy a few steps ahead. The path took them naturally away from the coast, along cobblestones and hardened sandstone in the desert. It took them straight towards a distant canyon, with rock walls as tall as the largest buildings Mira had ever seen. She could hear roaring water ahead too, loud enough that it covered up the other desert sounds. "Where did you go, anyway?"

"Back to the waking world, obviously," the kitten answered, annoyed "I told you I would go back and forth. But don't confuse me for a dreamer, I'm not. I am here, I don't just imagine myself to be here. Greater power, but greater danger. This is why we serve, and don't go on our own adventures. Creatures know if they kill you, they can claim us. It's easier that way."

Great. "But killing me doesn't really matter," Mira said. "If I die, I wake up, and..." she trailed off. "And I don't know how to come back. My teacher, Kallisto is here in the Dreaming somewhere. And she would probably want to kill me more than any other creature." She trotted over to Sandy, shaking their shoulder with one hoof. "Can you teach me? If something happens, I could be the one to die, so long as I can come back here when I'm done."

Sandy stared back at her with clear confusion on their face. "You're asking me to teach you something about magic I cannot learn, to travel to a world that doesn't exist to me." They shook their head. "It would be as productive as trying to teach you how to sleep in the Dreaming. Impossible, even for a wise dreamer like Meridian. I must accept my limits."

Mira didn't fight with her—the canyon rose up around them, and any desire to argue faded away.

Not even in her deepest imagination had she dreamed of a place like this. Stone in every shade of crimson and orange and yellow, with strata of thick metal lines that broke the other repeating patterns. The canyon walls weren't blank either, but eroded into irregular peaks and valleys, with buttresses of stone as large as buildings held up by narrow necks. There were huge towers too, and weaving between them all, a river as wide as anything she'd seen in the jungle.

I wonder why nothing grows if there's so much water. Well, almost nothing. There were skeletal trees in patches, along with lichen clinging to steep rock walls. But Mira didn't stop to stare, or else slow down their advance. The walls towered to either side, so vast that Mira wondered how this could possibly be here without somehow being visible from Hope.

Because it's a dream, stupid.

"There are ways to learn," the cat said, interrupting her thoughts. "The passage of worlds. Ask the bats of Bravery, some may tell you. Or they may think those who have to ask don't belong in the Dreaming. But I think they'll tell you. It takes bravery to admit you are stupid."

"I'm not—" She fell silent abruptly, her ears swiveling to a sound of distant rumbling. She turned her head slightly to the side. She wasn't surprised by the tumbling stone. But just because she expected it didn't mean that it didn't terrify her. Stone tore and ground together, whole chunks came tumbling past her, sections of rock as large as her whole body. She took off, jumping up into the air.

The cat mewed in protest, diving into her saddlebags. But Mira hardly paid her any mind—she had to get them both out now. "Where?" she asked, but her voice was drowned out in the landslide. But Sandy was still there, buzzing forward instead of up. That meant dodging around more falling stone, instead of just avoiding it.

Mira ground her teeth together, then tucked in her legs, flying ahead as quickly as she could. As it turned out, that was quite a bit faster than the moth. Those bug wings just weren't built for speed the same way a pony's were. She zipped past, catching the moth by one hoof. "Why aren't we going up?" she yelled, dragging the bug behind her.

"Because that isn't brave!" the moth answered. They didn't actually look at Mira, just kept their eyes laser-focused on the canyon ahead of them.

The whole thing was collapsing now—pillars toppling sideways, sections of rock rolling away from the ground. Cracked brown trees exploded into splinters as rock cascaded over them, tearing up the ground with it.

She dodged narrowly to one side, then rolled, avoiding huge sections of falling rock. The more she focused on her flight, the slower the rest of the world seemed to go. Was Mira somehow... controlling it? She didn't stop to think, focusing her whole body on her flight. This was like avoiding the pegasus guards when they tried to chase her through the jungle. She didn't know what they would do if they caught her, but she had no intention of finding out.

"I don't think..." The moth's voice was already weak, forced out through exhausted breaths. "Can't keep going... gonna..."

Mira slowed just a little, so she could wrap her foreleg around the moth's fluffy neck. She gripped them hard, then tugged forward with all she had. It wasn't much, anymore—flying while carrying someone was taxing even for the strongest pegasi flyers, let alone for bats who weren't really built for heavy lifting. She flew anyway, even if that meant sometimes coming up short, or dodging around bits of crumbling stone instead of outracing them.

It wouldn't matter how they avoided the canyon collapsing on them, so long as they did.

She wasn't sure how much longer they flew—it felt like days, but it was probably less than a minute. Eventually there was no canyon left to collapse, and they emerged onto level ground. More precisely, the path took them up onto a plateau, larger and more stable than any of the old stone that had nearly fallen on their heads.

Mira touched down, breathing heavily. Her hooves clattered on metal, but she didn't notice at first. There were buildings up here, and other creatures. But nothing mattered as much as making sure her companion was okay.

"Sandy," she said, settling the bug onto the ground beside her. "Look at me."

The bug did. They weren’t in good shape—flying so hard had taken its toll. Their wings were frayed, and bluish blood seeped out from the edges. Mira shuddered, knowing full well just how sensitive wings could be, and how much that must hurt.

The bug smiled up at her anyway, blue staining their lips as they did so. "That was... incredibly brave, Mira. You could've left me back there."

"No, I couldn't." She held the bug close, whispering into their ear. Or maybe they heard with the antennae? She was a little shaky on the details. "I wouldn't leave a creature behind. Tell me how to help you."

"Essence," they whispered. "Universal power of all dreamers, connection between our worlds. Or... a hospital. You could find one. I'm sure Chilon has a big one."

The idea of just making everything magically better was obviously more appealing to her. But where was she, anyway?

Mira turned, and finally saw where they'd flown.

The entire city was made of metal, a rusty red stuff in huge flat sheets. They'd been connected together in strange half-melted ways, hardly stable in such a dangerous part of the world. Strange lights glowed from inside them, similar to the smokeless flames in the Erebus buildings.

The creatures here were not moths, but dragons. Or maybe lizards? Mira hadn't ever met a dragon, so she was mostly guessing. Maybe that was why they made everything out of metal, so they wouldn’t burn it accidentally.

There were other creatures here too—some looked like ponies, though there were obvious differences. These ponies were made of gemstone, like glass that got up and walked around. There were a few bats too, though not many.

"Come with me," she finally said, bending down beside the moth. "I'll get you to a doctor. Maybe they can show me how to do the... magical healing."

"Doctors won't know how to do that." The cat appeared from her satchel, hopping up onto her back. Her little claws dug painfully into Mira's back. "They aren't dream-walkers, you are. You just have to want to give her some of the power you brought from the waking world. Somewhere more real than here. Know she's healthy more than you know she's not."

What the buck does that mean?

Mira felt more than saw the citizens of Chilon surrounding her. There was very little surprise at Sandy's condition, but she should probably expect that from a city in the realm of Bravery. Danger was as fundamental to the land as the loss that inevitably followed.

Mira didn't look away from Sandy. What was she even supposed to be doing here? Imagining her new friend not dying—what did that even mean? Maybe that meant Kallisto would show up behind her and put a knife in her back. She didn't, though. Instead, Mira heard a stranger's voice.

"What happened?" A male voice, young. But that meant very little to her, in a place where aging meant something completely different.

She glanced over her shoulder at the speaker, just long enough to see who it was. A bat, though he was different from any she'd ever seen. His wings had glittering lines connecting them to his back, like someone had set metal wires under the skin. His eyes glowed faintly blue, and his chest was unusually fluffy with fur.

Still a bat otherwise. One of the cousin tribes, maybe?

"They're dying," Mira squeaked, voice pained and feeble. "See? I'm trying to help, but I don't know how!"

"Oh." He circled around until he was beside Sandy's head, then settled onto his haunches. "Moths are fragile, even for figments. Does this one matter to you?"

"Yes!" she shot back, tears streaking her eyes. She wanted to punch him in his stupid face, but didn't act on that desire. He was just asking questions, even if they were incredibly stupid questions that should've been obvious without opening his dumb mouth.

"Can you help me?" she asked instead. "Please. I don't care what it costs, I just can't let them die. They risked so much to come here with me. They said it would get them killed, and it looks like they were right!"

The bat said nothing for a few more seconds. The color seemed to fade from Sandy's body, starting with the wings. They went wrinkled and gray, like something long dead.

"Healing is difficult. It is hard to give so much new power to a figment while leaving the original structure behind. You may change them."

"Changed is better than dead!"

There were at least a dozen creatures surrounding them now, watching their argument from a polite distance. But they still watched, as though they had any business here. If they were going to stare, why couldn't they help?

The bat held something across Sandy's body, out towards Mira. A glittering dagger, handle balanced on his hoof. "Then do as I say. You need a few drops of your blood. Put them here... over each eye, like that. I can see the desire is there, and the power certainly is. Been a long time since I felt so much glamor from one creature."

Mira did what he said. She sliced into her leg, just deep enough to bleed. She felt the pain of it, but it wasn't enough to wake her up. Pain in this dream still felt real, but it didn't drive her into the waking world.

She repeated the words to a strange prayer, with the cat watching her from the ground. It was a spell, the way she'd seen unicorns use in the past. But this one didn't use a horn, since of course she didn't have one. This one relied on her feelings.

"My blood to yours, my life to yours," she said. "What was nameless, now is bound."

She knew when it worked, though she'd never felt anything like it before. A sudden weakness suffused her body, far more intense than the desperate flight to reach this place. She dropped to the ground beside Sandy panting from exhaustion.

Just in time to see Sandy open their eyes and look around. The bat was right, they were different. Sandy's strange, segmented eyes were now a familiar pony shape, with dark amber irises slitted like a bat's. Mira's own eye-color, maybe even an identical copy of her eyes.

"You did it," they said, sounding little better than Mira felt. But then they stood, flexing both wings. They had mended, though where they were torn, the flesh looked different. It was sturdier, like bat skin instead of gossamer silk. The pattern was different too, swirling into a little moon-shape with only one watching eye instead of two.

Not that different from Mira's own cutie mark, now that she thought about it.

"Passable work for a neophyte," the stallion said, picking up his knife from where she'd dropped it, and cleaning the blade on the side of Mira's own saddlebag. "But does your moth still feel like themselves? Did you actually save anything?"

"I... think so." Sandy took a few steps forward, opening and closing both wings. "I am hazy on how we got here, or where here is. I was traveling with you, Mira. You had an important mission. We got... lost?"

Mira stood, shaking herself off. The weakness she felt wasn't tiredness exactly, and didn't just fade. But it also didn’t stay so pressing that she was paralyzed. It was a magical weakness, not a physical one. "Not quite. We just made it to Bravery. I think you called this place Chilon. Is that right?"

The stallion nodded. While the crowd had already started to disperse, he remained to watch the two of them. "Your arrival might be the most interesting change to come to Chilon in the last century. The ignorance, the desperation—you must have quite the cause."

She lowered her voice. Not that she thought her story would keep from spreading if she went recruiting for help. Meridian in Hope already knew, and probably wouldn't keep it secret for her. But did it even matter? Her old teacher wouldn't care enough about sending her out of the Dreaming that she would track her all the way here, would she? "The bat tribes in the waking world are in danger. If somepony doesn't do something, we might go completely extinct. I'm here looking for help."

I don't even know if she made it out of Erebus. Mira banished that grim thought. Her words had the desired effect, at least on this stallion. This wasn't Hope—no bat would come to live here without being a little brave themselves.

"That sounds like... a lot." He extended one hoof toward her. "I'm Cassini. Come home with me, and you can share everything you know. You'll feel better once you have something in your stomach."

She didn't have the energy to reject the offer, not after everything else she'd been through today. He had just helped her save Sandy's life. "I'm Mira," she said. "I guess... yeah. I wouldn't mind that. Guess we still need to eat here."

"Young dreamers do," he responded, leading her through the crowd. The strange dome-shaped homes here were hard to tell apart—his was tucked in a street over, near the cliffside. But Sandy followed along behind her, and even the cat didn't complain. That had to be a good sign. "If you still believe you need to eat, than you will. You can get over the reflex with practice.

"Your real body still has all the same needs, though. Still need to eat, drink, and move. Otherwise it will die right out from under you, and you'll be trapped here. Won't even know it happened, until you try to wake up and there's nowhere to wake up to."

Even the doors were strange, metal disks that rotated open for them, and sealed with several heavy bars on the other side. Despite seeming large on the outside, the interior was quite a bit more cramped then she was expecting.

The dome was as thick as a whole pony's body, with sturdy support pillars anchored deep into the rock. The windows were narrow slits, packed with thick glass and surrounded with something black and soft-looking.

The bat had decorated the space otherwise, or at least tried to. There were woven cloth carpets on the floor, and vivid paintings hanging on the walls. A few crystals hung from the top of the dome, clustered together to form a crescent-moon shape. But they weren't quite the same colors and shape, so the illusion didn't survive.

The interior was a single room, with a hatch leading into the rock at their hooves. More strange metal devices sat in the bat's kitchen, including a box mysteriously trapping the cold inside. He flung it open, withdrawing several strange fruits to the table and dicing them. "Explain what you meant about the bats in the Phenomenal. You're in danger?"

She sat on a little cushion beside the counter, with Sandy lingering not far away, and the cat off exploring the little house somewhere. She told the same story she'd given Meridian, right down to the destruction of Erebus, and her teacher trying to kill her.

"So my plan is to get to Nightmare Moon," she finished, at about the same time Cassini settled a plate down in front of her. "Free her from the moon, so she can return to Equestria and protect the bat tribes again. Otherwise, Celestia will keep pushing us to the fringes. In a thousand years, ponies won't even remember we exist. Not if nopony does anything to stop this."

"For your friend." Cassini put down another plate, before taking one for himself. He'd pierced the little bits of fruit with a stick, then cooked them over a little fire that appeared only when he pressed a few buttons to demand it.

It looked like unicorn magic, but she never sensed any. The dream bats had strange powers.

"It's an important mission," she continued, prodding at the strangely cooked fruit. It smelled good, which would usually be more than enough for Mira. But back home she'd only ever eaten certain bugs cooked. It just wasn't worth it for other things. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough to do it. Apparently being a living dreamer helps, but I don't have any experience. I barely know how my own magic works, as you saw. And if I wake up, I won't know how to get back in here."

Had she been in the Dreamlands long enough that she was getting picky about food? She forced herself to try a bite, and soon discovered just how delicious it really was.

Strange to waste perfectly good fuel on food that didn't need cooking. But here in the dreamlands, her tribe were still powerful.

Cassini ate just across from her. He didn't seem like he was in any kind of terrible hurry, and she soon discovered why.

A terrible storm struck the building, wind whipping about outside, rain pounding on the roof, and thunder shaking the ground under their hooves. The incredible strength of the construction suddenly made perfect sense.

Sandy moved closer to her, less than a hoof's breadth away from her. The cat was less subtle about her fear, and just jumped headfirst into her saddlebags.

"You've got a long way to go, too long to walk. And you're right, it wouldn't be proper to go it alone. But the path you describe—it could mean madness for you, even if you manage to reach the center. Are you sure there's no other way? There could be other allies for our tribe in the waking world, better able to undertake this journey."

"There are none," she whispered. "Our ponies are all enslaved. There are no monasteries even teaching dream travel anymore. They execute any creature who shares the old-ways."

Cassini sighed, chewing thoughtfully on a length of cooked fruit. Thunder rumbled outside, growing louder. Were they in the center of the storm?

"I'll make your case to the Explorer’s Guild when the storm eases. Bravery has a few skyships, we could take one of them as far as the sea. But understand, bravery is not suicide. They will not enter the madness, not with a dreamer like you."

"Closer is good. If that's the best we'll get, then I'll take their help. And I wouldn't say no to learning about magic along the way. Were you a monk?"

"No, but I was murdered by one."

The storm that raged in the land of Bravery was a fierce thing, tearing up the rock and ripping huge holes in the land. The others still found a way to sleep, even the cat.

But Mira did not feel tiredness, just as she hadn't since first arriving in the realm of sleep and starlight. She paced back and forth in front of the low windows, watching the world outside through thick glass.

Occasionally there was a break in the clouds, and she could see the moon. Well enough to look up, and see its face.

Even in the dreaming, she saw the faint silhouette of a mare there, outlined by stars. It was subtle enough that ponies from other tribes often didn't even notice it. But for the bats, it was a mark of failure. It was a reminder every minute of every night that their chosen ruler had failed them, and that they were subjugated before hostile, overwhelming force.

The Sun Tyrant's armies couldn't follow me, but her evil magic did. "I'll help you free," she whispered, for no one to hear. "I'm coming, Princess. I know you'll save us."

Then she would bring the nightmare for the creatures who had inflicted suffering and death on her children, and the bats would go back to building their cities in peace.

Mira could not dream of those days, because she was already in the world of dream—where some force beyond her comprehension had managed to steal away the eternal joy of the dead. Maybe next time.

The moon was still high overhead when the storm finally passed, leaving the streets of Chilon greatly changed. The buildings were all still there, but the canyon around them had taken on a completely different shape. Ridges extended in different directions, and a great valley was now spanned by a rope bridge.

Cassini didn't question it, or even remark on the strangeness of it. "We'll go straight to the Explorer’s Guild, while the moon is still high. I'm sure there are stories about your arrival. We get so few visitors from the waking world that you will be noticed. Some might even be hoping to hear from you.

"That sounds nice," Sandy said. They were less bland and emotionless in their speech than they had been before. "Everywhere can use more hope. I'm sure we will find creatures sympathetic to your mission. Bats once had many friends in the Dreaming."

As it turned out, "once" was the operative word. They arrived at the Explorer’s Guild only minutes later, an impressive stone building on the cliffside with docks all around it. There were many ships docked there, as though summoned into being by her need.

The building housed many creatures, very few of them bats. They gathered around her in the presentation hall, listened politely to her desperate pleas for help, then dispersed. She was left alone in the hall, with Sandy beside her like a ghost, and the kitten prancing along the stage, oblivious to her failure.

They hadn't even done her the dignity of kicking her out of the building in shame, just left her sitting there.

"I don't get it," she muttered, pawing angrily at the ground. "I thought this was the land of bravery, Cassini. Why in Tartarus aren't any of the ponies here brave?"

He shook his head slowly. "Most of those were griffons. They have a very different definition of bravery than the one you're used to." He hopped up onto the stage, spreading his wings as he did so. "For them, it's less about having a good cause, and more about having an enemy worth facing in combat. You wanted someone to go with you and call for help. That might even seem cowardly to them."

She groaned, collapsing to the deck and covering her face in her forelegs. "How am I supposed to win, Cassini? Do they want me to raise an army to fight the Sun Tyrant in the waking world? Even our rightful ruler couldn't do that. We lost!"

Cassini spread both wings defensively, backing away from her. "You say that like I don't know! I'm not the one you're trying to convince here, Mira. Though it does make me wonder."

He moved up beside her, both wings still lifted over his shoulders. This time to mute what he whispered. "This might be a moment for you to reflect, Mira. Maybe you're fighting a battle that can't be won. Princess Luna lost, even when she was fighting at her best. If you travel to the stars and free her, won't her sister just lock her up again?"

Mira froze, eyes watering. She felt as though he had just smacked her in the face. Of course he hadn't touched her, and she wasn't bleeding. Wouldn't she just lose again? The question was so obvious that she hadn't even considered it before. But how could she ignore it?

"First of all, it's not just Princess Luna. That version of our princess was elevated by... an oath with the stars, or something." She backed away, waving her wings dismissively. "I don't know the details. But she's much more powerful now. Like... stronger than Celestia!"

Cassini settled down onto his haunches on the edge of the stage. There were no others in the audience chamber to overhear them, though past the lobby, stairs did lead up to a balcony with many rooms. Some members of the guild had gone up there, and might still be listening.

The other bat kept his voice down. "That's not possible, Mira. I don't know how else to tell you this, but our princess doesn't have the same power as the sun. That doesn't mean she isn't powerful in other ways. Luna is subtle, and her understanding is more graceful. Just as the moon shines gently on the eyes of all who fly by evening, so she can grasp the intricate details of every situation, and judge fairly. But that is not the same as greater martial power."

He didn't understand. She backed away from him, both wings flared in panic. As though she would take off and flee, except she was inside. There was nowhere to flee to. "The princess is... she wasn't content to accept the way we were treated. She took power from... somewhere. We don't even call her Luna anymore, we call her Nightmare Moon. She has terrible, incredible power! She could've saved us, if her sister hadn't betrayed her. She was assassinated under a flag of truce!"

Mira spoke with total conviction now, though she did not know many of these details for herself. Her parents had died in her service, when she was too young to understand that world. But she didn't need to see most of it for herself to trust the accounts she had been given her whole life. The Sun Tyrant oppressed their tribe, why shouldn't she lie to her own sister?

"There is no way for that to be true, Mira. Or no good one. Power always comes with a price, and Luna was so wise. She would never bargain away her service to some... entity. She understands the dangers better than anypony. She's seen beyond the Outer Gates."

Mira pawed at the ground, increasingly frustrated. This was getting her nowhere. Even the creatures of Bravery hadn't been willing to help with her mission. Now one of the few friendly bats in the whole world thought her mission was stupid. If she couldn't convince a bat, how could she possibly win over strangers?

"What do you expect me to do?" she screamed. "I can't crawl into a hole and hide! The world is broken, and we need somepony to fix it! I refuse to believe that there's nopony out there to help us! I won't live in a world where bats have nothing to hope for but hiding from the other tribes and waiting to be wiped out!"

Cassini stared back, stunned. A few faces appeared from overhead, ponies peeking briefly down to stare at them, only to retreat the way they came as soon as they noticed her.

So much for bravery.

"Sometimes the world is bigger than we are," Cassini said. He reached a gentle wing toward her, as if to pat her gently on the shoulder. But she kept backing away from him, staying out of reach.

The kitten scampered towards her, hopping onto her pack without a word. Even Sandy looked up from where they sat by the stage, though their eyes remained unreadable.

"Sometimes we need to accept what we can't change, and focus on our own survival. That's what you should do, Mira. Find somewhere you like in the Dreamlands. Peace, Happiness, Hope, Bravery... there are many lands here. With Erebus fallen, you can't go there. But find somewhere you like, make friends, and live here."

He followed her, backing her into a corner. "This path you're flying, whoever 'Nightmare Moon' is. It doesn't lead anywhere you want to go. Where it leads is madness at best. Likely it will be much, much worse. Don't throw your life away."

Tears slid down her face. Mira's world blurred, fracturing into moonlit rainbows. This was no deep betrayal—she barely knew Cassini. But in his face, she saw thousands of others. He was just like Meridian—one more soul to commend her effort, but judge it doomed.

Maybe they were all onto something. Maybe him and Kallisto and Meridian were the wise ones, and she was a selfish fool for trying to prove them wrong.

Mira might not know dream magic, but she'd lived as a frightened refugee on the edge of society since her earliest memories. She knew how to get out. She took off in a dramatic vertical leap, then dodged past Cassini, and flew towards the door.

The wind of her passing, or maybe some strange arcane force, struck against the doors before she reached them, flinging them open with a bang. She flew up into the air, curving high above Chilon, avoiding the other creatures flying here. She kept going up and up, higher than she had ever dared to fly in the waking world.

A bat going too high was obviously up to something, and would draw down the attention of the Solar Guard. But here, there were none of them to capture her and interrogate her about why she had chosen such a path. They couldn't torture her for the location of her hidden jungle home.

She flew so high the air chilled her wings, and the moon seemed to swell before her. She passed above the clouds, into a vast floating kingdom of glowing white. Finally her energy spent, she dropped onto one.

This was a privilege reserved for the pegasi—only the tribes who had remained loyal to the sun could enjoy the luxuries her world provided. But Mira knew what to expect, and found it even softer beneath her hooves.

She collapsed into the clouds, and cried, with only the moon to watch.

There was nothing stopping her from living here forever, really. She would be giving up the rest of her life in Equestria, but was that so bad? She had another lifetime of hiding and torment, of growing mushrooms and gathering rotten fruit. If she was very lucky, she would avoid the eye of too many daywalkers, and maybe attract a mate with as few prospects as herself.

They could raise a whole family of desperate, starving children, hiding in the dark and only coming up to look at the moon at special occasions. Or maybe they would get discovered by the Solar Army and have their town "dispersed" as a "rebellious military fortification".

She curled up into a ball in the clouds, covering her face from the moon. Who was Mira, to think she could change the world? Was she mightier than the Sun Tyrant?

Kallisto was right after all. She didn't belong here. Her mission was impossible, and only misery could follow in the attempt. She was doomed.

Mira lay on the clouds, more lost than she had ever been in the waking world.

After a lifetime of suffering, she had finally discovered a way out—but she would not take it for herself. All the bats of Equestria needed help, it was not good enough to just save herself. She would not go.

Despite a tantalizing promise of salvation for herself and her tribe, she had discovered cowardice in the sleeping world. With few exceptions, its denizens were unwilling to go with her. They would not risk themselves on her quest. Why should they care about the survival of bats?

Maybe I should let myself wake up. All I have to do is die here, and I'll go back to the place I came from. I can go back to begging for scraps on the side of the road. She wouldn't be taking them back to Kallisto at the monastery anymore, though. She could have the mushrooms all for herself.

She could grow old looking at the murals, depicting their exodus from a dying world, or their salvation under the wings of the Nightmare. Those dark eyes would follow her until she died, judging her for her failure.

"Mira."

A voice spoke, so quiet she could barely hear it. It was unfamiliar to her—feminine, but also stern. Where was it coming from?

"I have been watching you," it said. "These nights of your journey. From Erebus and beyond. I have heard your voice, and seen your courage."

She opened her eyes, scanning the clouds. Mira's eyes strained, but she could see no other figures. Not even the trailing wisps that might mean someone had just passed through the cloudy floor. "Where are you?" she asked, sitting up.

"Trapped," whispered the voice. "Bound inexorably. The greatest torture I endured was not betrayal, but being forced to watch what become of my children, powerless to help."

Finally, she thought to search in the one place she hadn't yet looked: up. Mira saw the moon.

She was too young to remember it any other way. There was a mare's shape there, outlined against the shadow. It was distinct enough for her to see clearly, despite the vast distance. She even imagined it turning to watch her.

An impossibility in the real world. Unicorn astronomers insisted the "Mare in the Moon" was just a formation of rocks and craters, taking the shape of a pony by accident of nature. That was what they all taught, expecting bats to believe it.

As though they didn't have the records from before. As though their own astronomers hadn't been studying the sky long before Celestia or her sister had ascended to the throne. As though they were all fools.

"You can talk to me?" she asked, disbelief in her voice. "How?"

The reply did not come quickly. When the voice finally came again, every word was distant and far apart. Was she shouting all the way from the moon?

"Sympathy is proximity, bat. Your loyalty binds you with threads that grow stronger as you suffer. I once had numberless servants, and I would not have seen. But now they are dead. When I search for living ponies, I find only your face."

Her heart leapt—this was Mira's entire mission in the Dreamlands! It was the reason she came! Maybe she wouldn't have to reach the moon at all! "You have to help us!" she called, as loudly and bravely as she could. "Nightmare Moon, your subjects are captives! We're driven from city to city, forced to live in the shadows, struggling for food. Whenever we unite, the army hunts and kills us! Your tribe can't survive this forever!"

Silence answered. Yet Mira could tell the distant voice had not left her. Somehow, its presence remained close. It was a pressure on her mind, like an unseen pony standing just over her shoulder. If she turned to look she would not see them standing there, but the feeling of being watched would remain.

"I would save you if I could," came the eventual reply. "My love for the ponies of night grows stronger the more I see you suffer. But I am bound, pony. My sister sealed me here, and no strength of mine will be sufficient to set me free. It is a trap upon my hooves, one that tightens the stronger I resist it."

Despair crushed down on Mira, far mightier than she could have possibly felt on the ground. The refusal of Nightmare's subjects to obey was one thing—ponies were always fallible creatures. Those who lived in dream had grown detached by their long lives, and longer wanderings away from physical space.

"So it's... hopeless?" Mira asked. "There's nothing we can do? The Sun Tyrant won at last, and we're all doomed?"

Maybe the moon princess could sense her terrible pain, or maybe just see it. Either way, the reply came much more quickly this time. "No! No victory is certain, loyal servant. Lift up thy head, and listen."

She sniffed, wiping away her tears with a wing. The future seemed incredibly bleak to her, salvation impossible. But if the princess of the moon told her otherwise, how could she possibly argue?

"I'm listening," she said. "I was going to come to you... sail across the Dreamlands, and tell you about what was happening to your bats. But if you already know, and you're trapped, what do we do instead?"

"Your plan was a noble one, given what you knew," the Nightmare said. When she spoke this time, Mira could swear she saw an eye turn towards her on the moon's surface. She had the total attention of a god.

"I am pleased with you, pony. You give me reason to hope for victory."

"Mira," she muttered. It was wrong to argue or correct a goddess—but there was no reason she couldn't share her name. "My name is... Mira. My parents were in your court. They fought beside you, and... d-died."

The wind whipped about her. The clouds she was resting on began to thicken, darkening. Not only that, but they were moving rapidly, drifting along the sky above Chilon. She spread her wings, ready to catch herself if she fell.

She didn't, not yet. "I know the pain of my children, Mira. I cannot leave the moon—I am trapped here, confined. Yet you could aid in my escape. With your help, I could return to Equestria, and stand beside the children of the night."

"Just tell me how!" She stood, shouting to the sky. "Tell me what to do, Princess! Anything you say, I'll do it! I don't know very much about the sleeping world, or the waking one. I'm not the strongest or the fastest. But if I can do it, I will."

"This is your greatest weakness, perhaps your only one," the Nightmare said. "I feel your conviction, and it gives you strength. Your bravery makes you mighty in the Dreaming. But power must be tempered with knowledge, or it is a wildfire, raging out of control and turning forests to ash. I will share my dream with you, Mira... give you some of what little strength remains to me."

The clouds beneath her faded to mist, and what was left of them drifted to join a growing storm cloud less than a kilometer away. As it grew, the winds began to rise. Rain whipped through the air, and thunder rolled.

The already faint voice started to fade. She seemed to realize it too, because the voice got faster, more desperate.

"I have found an... opening. The way we speak, might be widened enough to send some of what I know. Yet if I do, she will see. The sun will turn towards us, and close what was opened. I cannot stand against the Elements of Harmony alone. You must needs use this knowledge. Find a way to free me. Or deny me, and I will find another. Choose!"

It was everything Mira had hoped for, and everything she had feared. The princess would help her, directly! But she would also give Mira a responsibility, one she had no idea how to fulfill.

Her teacher would give her simple instructions: she must refuse, of course. She should leave this role to someone else. She had already done so much, risen far above what anyone could expect of one filly. She couldn't save a whole tribe.

Nopony ever said it would be easy.

"I'll do it!" she yelled. Her wings fought against the growing storm. With her will, the raging clouds did not reach her. The gale that lifted dirt and chunks of rock from the canyon below faded before it could get close. "Whatever it takes! I'll go to the end of the Dreaming and back! I'll raise an army, I'll find a way!"

She did not hear a reply, the storm was too intense by then. But she didn't need to hear the words to know her promise was accepted.

The moon turned on her, and a single spot flared to life on its surface. She could not see it clearly through the clouds, yet she imagined. She imagined a powerful, towering mare, standing on a surface of windswept white. Power built before her, then exploded outward in a line a single atom wide.

It struck her in the air, with a force that should've killed. It would have, in the waking world. But Mira slept here, and had no proper body.

Flying became impossible for her, and she was overwhelmed. Images flashed before her, sights she could not classify. She saw impossible vistas, dreams of long-dead civilizations. She heard the voices of ancient dead. She saw a young princess, following in the footsteps of something that wasn't a bat.

She saw dreams of pleasure, nightmares of endless madness. She saw the place where the Dreaming grew thin, fraying into the Astral Sea. She saw numberless cities and the dreams of thousands of sleeping ponies.

It was too much for any one mind to absorb. She stiffened, recoiling from the sights and sounds. Yet there was no relief. The heat only grew, burning away at her. Maybe it would burn her away completely.

Then the sun came out. It flared to life despite the hour, appearing as though it was suddenly midday. The light of noon struck against her with as much force as the Nightmare's magic, knocking her tumbling.

It wasn't even aimed at her, though. The strange magic pressing against her mind ended with one final, guttural scream of pain.

Her senses returned to her a moment later. Mira was falling, tumbling through the clouds. Her coat was soaked through in an eyeblink, her wings feeling ragged.

She spread them anyway, catching herself as the ground came rushing up to meet her.

Even so, she barely kept from tumbling over. The floor was so close!

She came to a stop inches from the ground, spreading the dirt from her point of impact in a little crater.

She was on the dock plateau, beside the explorers' guild building. As she landed, a figure appeared from within, rushing out through the rain towards her.

Cassini. Alone, without Sandy following. Probably for the best, their thin silk wings would be unequal to these gale winds.

"Did you see that?" he yelled, shouting over the storm. "There's never storms during the day!"

She nodded weakly. She could barely think straight—when she opened her eyes, she found images of the past blurring together with the present. Spiraling buildings of glass, figures riding in carts through Erebus, sitting on a throne made of polished steel.

"This way," he said, gesturing for the building. "Whatever the reason, it's storming now. We need shelter!"

She had no choice but to obey, stumbling after him into the building. She was outside just long enough to watch as the moon faded completely, vanishing before the might of the sun.

Mira followed Cassini back into the guild building, feeling the first gusts of wind lift her wings. By the time they had the doors shut, the force was so great it took both of them pushing together to get the security-bar across.

"Not sure why you would... pick a place to live like this," she whispered, sliding slowly down to the floor. It was all built well enough that she felt only a trickle of sand making its way in, whipping through her mane. The last storm had smelled of new life and renewal—this one brought a stink of ozone and anger. "You're one of the sleepless immortals, right? I wouldn't want to risk dying to a windstorm and being gone forever."

Her mind still raced, overflowing with strange sights. She had heard the voice of her goddess, if not seen her face. She felt her desperation, and view of her own vital place. Mira would not be a simple observer from here on—her actions would move the world. If she was very lucky, she might save it.

The bat sat just beside her, breathing just as heavily from the exertion. She couldn't see Sandy nearby, but she did feel the cat wiggling around in her saddlebags. The poor thing was probably a little squished by now.

So she shifted, making sure not to put any of her weight up against her side. "Some bats chose Erebus. There is something about many minds together that makes it easier to remember who you were.

"But not me. Those who travel out to other countries, we must choose a place that matches our minds. We will be changed either way—but if the match is good, then very slowly. Most bats plan to live a long time."

She nodded, closing her eyes. The wind grew louder, and the first crack of lightning split the growing darkness. She could only hope none of the guild members who abandoned her were caught out in that storm.

It was strange enough that Cassini took notice too, moving from the door to a single slit-mirror. He peeked out into the gloom, staring. "Like the sun itself turned her baleful eye against us. But why?"

Mira glanced down the hall, scanning for any sign of guild members who might be listening. If there was anyone there, she would probably have kept silent. But they were alone, it was safe.

"I spoke with her, Cassini. While I was up there... she saw me."

"Princess Celestia?" The bat spun on her, eyes wide. "Why would she be watching the Dreamlands now? We've done nothing to attract her notice!"

Mira shook her head sharply. "Not the Tyrant! Princess Luna. She saw me up there, from her prison. I don't know how, Alicorn magic is strange to me. But she did it."

Cassini froze, looking almost as frightened of her suddenly as he had been of the storm outside. "Stars guide us. You spoke with the Nightmare? Are you still sane? How many wings am I holding up?"

"None!" She stuck out her tongue, annoyed. "Cassini, listen to me. I told her everything I hoped I could. That whole trip to talk to her—it's changing. She wants to help us, but to do that we have to get her off the moon. She needs my help to do it."

Cassini nodded once. But he was already recovering, processing the information she wanted to share with him. He sounded almost calm now. "Did the Nightmare command you? Did it whisper how you would do this incredible thing?" He stood just beside her then, so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her face.

"Not exactly," she admitted. "I think I'm getting a sense about how, but no list of instructions. She said the Tyrant would see what she was doing, and seal her even tighter. She wouldn't be able to get another message across."

Cassini nodded again. "Which means no one else can try to free the Nightmare. If you can't do it, she'll stay trapped on the moon, and Equestria will be safe from her void-corruption."

It was Mira's turn to stare. She glared at Cassini. "What are you—"

Her anger died on her lips as she felt a sudden, incredible shot of pain. It was far worse than anything she had endured—worse than what the unicorns did when they caught her. Worse than any of the stallions would do if she was alone.

Pain crossed her throat in an eyeblink, and the world warped. She felt moisture on her neck, and her body getting heavy.

Mira dropped to the floor, gasping for life. It fled her anyway.

"If I thought you knew how to get back here, I would have to do worse—destroy your sanity as well."

The bat stood over her, glittering dagger against his wing. "But that would be cruel and unfair. You are no traitor, Mira. You've just been taken in by dangers you don't understand. Whatever pain our kind endure across the worlds, the one you would serve is much worse."

"H-how—" She wasn't even sure she was talking. Her eyes refused to focus, she could only see his face, watching her die. "—could—"

"Return to your life, Mira. Find a way to survive there. Our princess is dead—worse than dead. She was consumed by the void. Nightmare Moon wears her skin like a puppet. Celestia was right to imprison her."

He went on like that, or looked like he would. But Mira's body failed her then, the last of her blood spilled to the ground.

She died.

Then she woke up, and felt like she might die all over again.

A dozen different pains assaulted her at once—her muscles ached, her throat was raw, and she smelled like she hadn't dipped in a river in days. Deepest of them all was hunger, her old familiar torment.

It was a fight to open her eyes, one she nearly lost.

She might have, were it not for her conversation with Princess Luna. She was not just one little mare, one of numberless of her kin who had suffered. She was their only hope for salvation now, chosen by the Princess of the Moon.

The weight of Cassini's words, and his betrayal, she could process later. First she had to survive.

She finally opened her eyes, and found herself somewhere that was both entirely unknown, and also totally familiar. This was the old monastery, where she spent so many of her days with Kallisto.

She was in the Sanctuary, laying atop a silky bed. Candlelight illuminated the room around her, and her eyes were slow to adjust. She saw only vague forms at first, reluctant to solidify into real objects.

Around her were flowers, most of them fresh. They had been arranged into a decorative, almost worshipful display all around the bed. She had been resting with her head on a pillow, but the display was obviously not chosen for her comfort. White cloth lay beneath her, except for a wrap around her lower-legs.

She saw nopony around her—maybe it was day, and the bats of Understory were asleep. That meant there was no one to ask about what happened.

At first it was all Mira could do to lean to one side, nipping on the flowers closest to her head. They were fresh and green, bringing both strength and a little desperately-needed water too.

She was rung-out, like a slice of mango left in the sun for days. If she moved too quickly, she might crumble away just as painfully.

The more she ate, the clearer her mind became. It was just as Kallisto had always taught—travel in the Dreamlands was not a simple dream, something that could fade with waking.

She remembered every moment of it perfectly, as though she had experienced them in waking life. The exploration across several countries, winning Sandy to her side, and finding the cat.

Most importantly, her charge from Luna herself, and the betrayal it earned her.

That was the only source of confusion that remained to her. She knew things that had no source—facts about the Dreamlands that she couldn't remember learning. Shapes danced against her vision when she closed her eyes, like the spells that unicorns drew on their enchantments. Only these did not seem to be waiting for a horn, but for the right emotion. There was power in just holding a specific feeling when she slept. There were other sources of power too if she needed them. Blood.

Other things she knew were just fragments, divorced of any context or usefulness. Something called the seven hundred and seventy steps of deeper slumber, a village on an ancient cliffside, conversations had with an old man who lived in a shack of woven reeds at the end of creation.

I have to save her, she thought. But first, I need to save myself.

The shower would come first—whoever had cared for her all this time, they had barely managed to keep her clean and alive. Maybe that was why they used so many flowers, so worshipful visitors would not be revolted and leave.

Finally Mira dared to roll out of bed. Her legs caught her, then buckled instantly, bringing her to the ground with a painful thump. But nothing broke—it was just the weakness of ill-use.

She wobbled, then stood. First she shook the wrap off her legs, then stumbled forward through the room. The benches had moved—instead of circling the viewing dome, now they surrounded her bed. A painted plaque was attached to her bed, covered with bright purple and elegant script.

"Monk Mira—she who dreams of our future."

At least her vision was coming back to her. She hadn't rotted away completely while she lay on that bed. Her legs burned with every step, muscles screaming. But it was getting better.

She just had to remind her body how to use it. "Kallisto didn't say it would be like this," Mira whispered. Her voice was weak and ragged, just like her body. "She went to the Dreamlands all the time, it didn't almost kill her."

She wasn't talking to anypony—she just wanted to talk. Mira didn't really expect an answer.

She got one anyway, a tiny voice from the nearest pew.

Granted, calling it an answer was a little generous—it conveyed no words. It was a high-pitched mewling sound, one she recognized instantly upon hearing.

Mira spun, grinning widely at the little animal. She looked exactly how Mira remembered, right down to the splotches of brown and yellow against white. "You're here! In the real world!"

Again came the response, and again she couldn't extract any words. Even so, she felt some familiar answer there. Indignance, frustration. The kitten was judging her.

"I didn't mean to... get killed," she said. She stopped directly across from the kitten, as close as it would let her get. The cat lifted one paw to her nose, and Mira knew instantly what she meant. "Right. We can talk in a bit. I thought that trip would be over in one night—it feels like a lot longer than that."

At least the monastery was familiar to her. She reached the stairs, then descended towards the lower floor like she had done so many times before. She walked straight for the well, and the large bathing-basin she had used so many times before.

Kallisto had washed her in it since she was too weak to fly. It was only fitting she would find her way there again.

The door into the room was open as she approached, with more candlelight burning inside. A pony turned, someone about her size and wearing dark blue monk's robes.

They saw her—then they screamed, dropping the oversized pot they had just filled with water. It shattered, spilling all over her hooves.

"Yeah," Mira agreed as soon as they stopped yelling. "Guess you weren't expecting me to be up, huh?"

Mira stared into the face of a terrified bat, feeling a little of that same confusion and disorientation herself. Of course this bat wasn't covered in the slime of little bathing and slow rot of her body, and her muscles hadn't atrophied from disuse. But other than that, they were basically the same.

Mira didn't have the energy to urge her away. Instead she just waited, standing still, until the bat stopped screaming. "If you don't mind," she gasped, as soon as she'd finished. "I would like to bathe. The cold water should... do me some good."

The bat retreated out of her way, still staring in open shock. "You're awake," she whispered, awed. "How is this?"

She didn't sound very much like a monk. If anything, her voice reminded Mira of city ponies, with their strange rules and disdain for thestrals everywhere. This pony was a bat, so any suspicion she might feel was mitigated—but it was still unusual to her.

"Not by choice," she whispered. Mira reached the pump, and began to work it with one leg, filling the basin beside it with water. It was slow going at the best of times, but now her legs cried out with every stroke.

The nearby monk could've done something to help, but she didn't. She just stood there and watched, silent as Mira struggled. Eventually the water rose up to her belly, enough for her to step inside.

The well water brought with it the temperature of deep earth. That meant it was cooler than the surrounding jungle air, enough to make her shiver on contact. A thin film of slime quickly washed from her body. Despite the other changes, her soap was still hanging from a hook by a wooden rod. It looked thoroughly dried, so nopony else had used it.

She spun in place, letting the water do its work. All the while the mare just stared. At least it was a mare, so she never felt self-conscious. Her utter weakness dominated over all other forces. Mira was not tired, she didn't even know how long she had slept. This was soreness in every muscle and joint.

"The Wakeless One," panicked the monk, bouncing up and down in place. “Why will anypony come to the festival now? You're awake. God of dreams and sleep, you're awake. There couldn't be worse timing."

She wasn't speaking to Mira. Rather, she muttered to herself, like a pony on the edge of sanity. Mira's kitten hopped up onto the basin, eyeing the monk with a dubious expression.

She said nothing, but Mira didn't need her to guess what she meant.

Mira worked a little of the soap into her coat. That ached and burned even more, but it also made her feel as though she were waking up again.

"How did you get to the monastery of Understory?" Mira asked, replacing the soap. "Kallisto wasn't sure any members of the Dreamless Eye were left. What city did you come from?"

The mare froze at the question. Her ears flattened, and she backed one step away from Mira. "Oh, y-you know. The Tyrant's oppressive eyes fall on every city eventually. So I grew up on the road, learning a little here, a little there. I'm nothing compared to the monks of old. But everypony who knew what they knew is dying. It's just me now. And you, apparently."

Mira kicked the drain open, then shook herself out. She still felt stiff—more than that, she was hungry for a proper meal. But now she wasn't disgusted by her own smell, or the feeling of her own matted fur. It was a start.

"And me." She walked away from the well, towards a distant staircase. "I'm sorry for not being more sociable, Sister—"

"Night," the monk said. "Sister Night. But you can just call me Night. You're more than just a member of our order, you're the Wakeless One, she who dreams of a future for all Thestrals."

"Mira," she corrected. Such an elaborate title felt like the unicorn stallions with their fake goatees and elaborate beards. Absurd. But in basic concept... "How did you know my mission?"

"Everypony does," she answered. "You whispered of it sometimes. Like you were explaining it to us. It felt almost as though you could hear us over you, yet you never woke."

Oh. Her mind might be transported to another realm, but she did still have a body back here. That was apparently the source of dreamers' unique powers. That was the simplest explanation.

"Have you, uh—succeeded?" Night asked. "Found Nightmare Moon? Told her what we were going through? Is she coming down to dethrone her evil sister, finally? I would like to stop hiding in the dark if that's okay."

Hiding in the dark? The expression was so strange to Mira that it made her do a double-take. Did the pony have damaged eyes or something, that she wanted to avoid the dark?

"I did find her," Mira said. "About when she's coming down... it's complicated. She wants—"

The kitten mewled, so loudly that Mira fell briefly silent. "She wants me to play a role," she finished lamely. Her stomach growled, loudly enough that she looked down again. Flowers were nice, but she needed something real.

"Apologies. I have questions for you. Things I want to know about Understory. But first, I need something real. We can talk again after I visit the storeroom."

She made her slow way past Night. But even if she hadn't grown up here, she would know the way to the storeroom, because there were half-melted candles on the floor.

The floor, not the alcoves along either way. Kallisto would've screamed at her to see something so dangerous. This floor was stone, it was true—but not all of them were. It would only take one mistake and the whole monastery would be ablaze.

"Wait," Night called after her. She cantered over, and put herself in the way. "You can't go in there! I'm the sister of this monastery, and I say that—"

"The Dreamless Eye shares to all in need," Mira interrupted. She stepped around her. She reached the door, shoving it open.

Her mouth fell open, aghast by what she saw.

There had never been much to keep in the old storeroom. Families they served often left something in exchange for their religious rites—a woven carpet, a few blank scrolls, some dried fruit.

Most bats were too poor for Equestrian currency, so they could only offer whatever they made in compensation. Only those like Mira, who spent time outside the city, had Equestrian bits.

It seemed that many had visited the monastery of late, because the storeroom was filled with treasure. The glass-walled coffer was packed with bits almost to the ceiling, and there were plenty of sacks around it that hadn't even been emptied inside.

In trade goods there was even more—instead of a lonely corner, every shelf was full. Hoofwoven art, fine clothing, brand new furniture. Every kind of wealth Mira had ever known in her life.

For a fine unicorn household growing rich off the backs of thestral labor, this would not be very much. But for the Understory monastery, it was probably more than a lifetime of offerings.

"Th-there has been... zealous worship of the Wakeless One. Bats from many villages have come for your blessing, and received it. There have been... m-many miracles since you slept."

Miracles? She heard the word in Kallisto's voice. We do not worship for vague promises and unmeasurable rewards! The Dreaming is a place, its rules can be understood, its powers mastered through discipline.

Yet clearly something had worked out. There was so much wealth here—if it all came from Understory alone, it would represent quite a significant burden. The bats here did not have such wealth to spare.

Mira selected a single jar of fruit preserve from the shelf. This wasn't the fine trade good from afar, in a fine glass jar. This came in a clay pot, with a simple fabric top marked by Understory's own craftsmares.

She took it with her from the room, with a relieved Night following just behind.

Mira cracked the seal, then savored the sweet smell of Mango preserve. Only a pinch of spice and sugar was added, without spoiling the flavor.

Mira stuck her whole muzzle into the pot, then tilted it back. This was the nutrition she needed, after so long barely alive. She felt her strength returning by the second.

"Say, M-Mira. Tomorrow is the Festival of the Luminaries. I know this question may seem strange—but I wonder if you might help me with something. Bats have come from far and near to worship, you see. They bring rich offerings. Imagine their disappointment when they enter the sanctuary tomorrow night, and they find that the wakeless mare is—well, awake."

She lowered her voice, flicking her tail towards the storeroom. "When I got here, this place was practically empty. I hear there was barely enough bits to arrange the old Reverend Mother's funeral.

"Wouldn't it be quite a bit more appropriate if you were to revive from your sleep during such an important night? Imagine how lucky your devotees might feel, to witness such an impressive occasion? Their generosity might provide for the monastery for years to come!"

Mira listened as uncritically as she could. The claim was probably true—if bats were coming to see her, then returning to life in front of them would likely leave quite an impression. But how could she waste time thinking about how to fake a miracle now?

She lowered the pot, licking the last bits of mango from her face. There was more inside, enough for a few more meals. This simple paste was more of a luxury for her than any bits of Equestrian art or money with the Sun Tyrant's dumb face.

"Listen, Night," she said. She rested one hoof on her shoulder, meeting her eyes. The mare was older than she was, but not by that much. She could talk to her like an equal and not feel awkward. "I've been given an important mission, and I can't accomplish it here. I have to return to the Dreamlands."

"You do?" Night's face brightened. "I mean, of course you do! You will have no stauncher ally in a sister like me, Wakeless One! Tell me what you require!"

You don't know? Making the sleeping potion sounded like something basic for Kallisto. It was basic enough that Mira could even remember the ingredients. How to make it was the hard part, though. Her teacher had been quite clear about how deadly it could be if the mixture was even slightly off.

But why should she be resorting to such crude tactics? Mira's mind filled with information—diagrams, meditations, dietary practices, spells that didn't require a horn to cast. Princess Luna had given her an encyclopedia's worth of knowledge, only the pages were out of their bindings and fled in and out of her memory at random.

"I need some time to plan it," she said. "My old room, is it—"

"Everything should be how you left it," the mare said. "I took the Reverend Mother's quarters on the top floor. The only ones to disturb the lower level were the burial procession, when Kallisto passed. May the moon guide her soul."

"You mean the one that's immortal in the Dreamlands? I guess so. I hope the moon guides her to give me a damn apology next time I see her. She really wanted to murder me. And... somepony else succeeded."

That meant more bats in the Dreaming had tried to kill her than ones who wanted to help her. There was probably a lesson to learn from that.

She set off towards the stairs, jar wrapped under one wing. "Paper and charcoal for diagrams," she continued. "And fresh candles."

"Sure, sure." Night followed along behind her. "I only ask one thing in return: stay here. Don't leave the monastery for now. We need to plan your big debut. Or if you're going back to sleep, maybe it's just best nopony knows you're here at all. I can handle all the rituals and confessions on my own!"

Mira found her old quarters exactly the way she expected, almost. She had never had much in the way of physical possessions—no elaborate outfits woven by unicorn craftsponies from far Canterlot or some other distant place. She owned no gold jewelry, only a handful of near-worthless gemstone pieces that the royal guard hadn't bothered to confiscate from her dead parents. At least the new sister of the monastery hadn't looted her room for every last candle and scrap of parchment.

"Something about all this doesn't... make sense, cat," Mira said, after the mare had departed. She left a basket heavy with fruit, along with everything else she had asked for. Two whole fresh rolls of parchment, a bottle of ink.

If she had thought to withhold the riches of the monastery from Mira before, she had clearly thought better of it. The basket contained a note from the little pony, reminding Mira to go straight to her if there was anything missing.

"Of course there is something wrong. A predator has found her way in among the kittens. She has claimed your nest for herself."

Mira jumped, staring across the room. “You can talk here too?”

“To you.” The kitten stalked past her. “If I have something to say.”

Mira lit several candles, spreading them all around her bedroom. She normally didn't bother with so much light, but just now she needed every bit of workspace she could get.

"I don't know how I feel about it," Mira admitted. "She's perverted the moon's true way. But she's getting ponies all over to worship again, and donate so much. I've never seen the storehouse so full in my whole life. Ponies don't usually have that much to give."

"So much has changed." The cat followed her along the room, hopping from bits of furniture to keep her paws away from the dirty floor.

Meanwhile, Mira didn't start with anything magic, she just took a broom and got to brushing. She wouldn't be able to make use of the space to practice magic she barely understood while in a filthy room.

As she erased the chaos outside, the confusion in her own mind seemed to fade as well. She had simple goals, and she'd been given knowledge directly from the princess of the moon herself. The longer she had to think, the more her brain could put all those new facts into place.

One question remained occluded to her—how could she break the spell that imprisoned Luna on the moon? Traveling to the moon within the Dreamlands was possible, and might be part of that plan. But merely going there would only confine her and any who joined her to the princess's prison.

Mira cleaned, then she ate, then she cleaned again. What she really wanted was a chance to fly around Understory and stretch her wings. But Night had been insistent about the need for the illusion to continue. Her own sleeping self was part of why such wealth remained in the monastery.

Should ponies even be donating at all? They think I'm a relic of the divine that can bless them and solve their problems. I want to help, but it's Luna who will set us free. Once I free her.

The more she moved, the more alive she felt. By the time she'd emptied all the fruit in her basket, she was almost herself again. Still thin and sunken, but at least she didn't feel starving anymore.

"Now I wonder what you'll do, Mira," said the cat. "Do you give up your goal? Now that the princess told you no."

Mira finished arranging the paper on her desk, and looked up from beside it. "That isn't what she told me. Luna said she needed somepony to rescue her."

"Exactly!" the cat mewed dramatically, hopping down to the floor. She made her way over, rubbing against Mira's legs as she passed. "She told you she can't rescue your tribe. Your mission is doomed. Where does that leave your powerful will?"

She rolled her eyes, scooping the kitten up onto her desk. "If I went to sleep again, would you be able to check on my body every now and then? I don't want to die while I'm in the Dreamlands."

The cat didn't actually seem to mind being moved. She paced slowly past the little bottle of ink, then seemed to consider how to kick it over. Before she could, Mira scooped it up with a hoof, holding it out of reach.

"This is one purpose of a familiar. I can watch where your eyes are closed. The old and fat might sit on this side, ready to wake you at every moment, but not to join you for the adventure. I am not old and not fat, so I would not be so obedient. I joined you to see your adventure."

"But you would check on me every now and then," she said. "Like, you could make sure I don't stay there for weeks. You could wake me."

"I could," she said. "But most dreamers don't need that. There are conditions in the magic you invoke when you descend the steps of greater slumber. Most leave their bodies bound by silver cord, ready to be drawn back if they are woken. You did not know how to make such a cord. You don't even know your own dream space, or how it bounds against the Dreaming. You may be big, but you're the smaller kitten of us two."

Should Mira have felt flattered that the cat was treating her like one of her own kind, or insulted that she was being called a kitten? She decided on both.

The cat was right of course—she had all that knowledge buried inside. Every fundamental and advanced theory, it was all there. Even if she couldn't access any of it, she felt a general sense of agreement with what it said.

"My dream space... that's the place where everyone goes when they sleep. The space of their individual dreams. But that doesn't seem useful, right? I can't interact with anyone I don't bring with me."

The cat settled down on her haunches on the edge of the desk, licking delicately at one of her paws. "That's not quite true. You make sympathetic connections when you travel the Dreaming. Those creatures you meet there can find you again, if you dream the right feelings."

Sandy. Her first thought, of the friend who believed in her mission, even if they also seemed convinced that to join her meant certain death. It was an incredible amount of trust for someone to have in her, trust she should not squander.

I need to bring them back, not leave them in Bravery to get killed by the same bat who killed me.

Her waking attitude expecting every bat to be fighting the same enemies and ultimately on the same side would not serve her in the Dreaming. Cassini had sided with Celestia over his own princess. How many more would do exactly the same thing?

Mira started sketching. She wasn't sure what she was drawing—the ideas just came to her. As she drew, her hoof writing came out perfectly, every circle and diagram drawn with exquisite accuracy. She wasn’t even sure what she drew exactly, just that she didn't want to stop once she got going. When she filled one roll of parchment, she tossed it to the ground and got to work on the next one, scribbling with similar energy.

"I'm not changing my goals, cat. I'm going to save my princess, no matter how hard it is."

The cat laughed—or something like a laugh, anyway. It was halfway to a purr. "A mission of incredible difficulty, spanning from sleeping to waking worlds and back again. Assuming it's even possible. Aren't Alicorns gods?"

"Not... quite," she said lamely. It wasn't the response she would've given months ago. Her own teacher would probably scold her for questioning. Even the Sun Tyrant was a god, only a baleful, spiteful being of endless bonfires and no compassion.

"I don't think Luna thought she was. There's just a lot of power, way more than I... have. But think about it this way: it takes a lot of power to build a dam. But I need a lot less to find a crack and pry it open, and bring the whole thing down."

"So you've become a scholar?" the cat asked, her tone openly mocking now. "You'll sit in your laboratory, until you reverse-engineer the prison of your princess? Then you cast a terrible spell and set her free?"

If only it were so simple. Pretending to be asleep might earn her enough money to keep the monastery going while she worked, even if that work took years. But whatever magic she had ahead of her would be like collapsing the dam—it would mean probing at its weaknesses, finding the edges, pressing and pulling on every thread until she found the crack in the foundation.

"No. I need to... master dreamwalking first. I don't want to use potions, I should do it the way monks do. Controlling our own sleep, that way we can wake up when night comes. Sister Night wants me to sleep when her ritual comes, so I will sleep. Perhaps you could watch the ceremony, in case she takes steps to see me trapped there, without a body to return to?"

The cat hopped onto one of her diagrams, standing at the center of a little circle of interlocking runes. Mira wasn't even quite sure what that diagram meant, only that it wasn't a spell for a unicorn. This was the magic of the sleeping world, connecting the domain of the unconscious to the physical.

She could do more than simply dream herself into that world, Mira was sure about that. She could travel it with her body as well, if she mastered her powers. She would have to, if she hoped to save the princess.

"For a night, I will watch. If you're looking for a cat to lay about in both worlds, watching and doing nothing, I will not. But this once, yes."

"You're wonderful," she said, patting her with one hoof. "I'll find a way to get you some milk after this. Maybe I'll ask Night to ask for small donations of milk for the monastery. Would you like that?"

The cat fixed her with a glare from its eyes, but didn't say a word. As though the answer should be so obvious that words were not even required.

Mira worked through until Night approached the door, knocking lightly on it with a hoof before opening it. "Mira? I have something for you." She stepped inside, holding up a little glass vial of something green. "I purchased this sleeping draught from the herbalist. I believe it should produce convincing results this evening."

Walking in without permission like you're the Reverend Mother, Mira thought, annoyed. She rose from her desk, gathering up her rolls of vellum. "I will not drink a potion." She sniffed, and her nose wrinkled. "That's valerian root—that produces a dreamless sleep. What use would that be?"

"To solicit the gifts of important bats at a critical time in the year," Night answered, thrusting it towards her. "Go on. You can work in the Dreamlands tomorrow."

She took the bottle, then settled it onto her desk. "I'll enter the Dreamlands my own way, thanks. You should know all about that by now, right? How far into our practice did you get? Can you... tell me a little about the personal dream space?"

Night retreated back the way she'd come through the open door. "I can tell you that the guests will be arriving in half an hour. I can tell you if they find you awake, I'll be declared a fraud, and no more creatures will believe you can grant their miracles. Don't you want to give them hope?"

"I want to give them more than that." Mira took one of her diagrams under her wing, then turned for the steps. "Come on. You can help me cast this."

Mira reached the sleeping display, where flowers were arranged against the bed of the Wakeless Mare. Shame about ruining all this—but she had eaten them when she first woke. Maybe the worshiper’s offerings would amount to something after all.

Mira shoved it all onto the floor, clearing the table down to the cloth. She spread the diagram there on the table, unrolling it beside the charcoal and starting to sketch.

“Did you have to ruin the whole thing? I don’t remember how it was arranged…”

Mira looked back, eyes narrowing. “I can have a pretty memorial, or magic that actually does something.”

She didn’t wait for a response, that was probably a question she didn’t want. Night would probably be happiest with a wax doll to lay in her place instead of a pony.

“What are you even doing?” the mare asked, staring over her shoulder at the diagram. “I’ve known plenty of bats in the order, and never seen any magic like this.”

Mira tried to explain—then realized she didn’t have the words. She couldn’t fully articulate exactly what she was doing or why, only that it would help her mastery of the Dreaming grow. Mastery she would need if she ever hoped to rescue the princess.

“It sends me to a specific place in the Dreamlands,” she said. “And it… affects time, I think. Somehow.”

She finished drawing, then crawled up onto the slab, careful not to smudge the diagram as she did so. “Don’t let anypony kill me while I’m asleep. I don’t know how long this will take.”

Despite her worries that she would need some drug to help put herself to sleep, the reality was far simpler—once invoked, the magic she'd created took her almost instantly. Drowsiness washed over her, she yawned once, then curled over sideways.

Seconds later, she was... back in Understory? She stood just outside the monastery, where mushrooms grew over carefully composted waste. Before they promised false miracles, they had to make do with what offerings they had—often just a little rotten fruit for the garden, doomed never to grow in the lightless twilight.

For a few seconds she was entirely enraptured by the dream, taking a basket from nowhere in particular and starting to harvest. She filled it about halfway, enough for a meal for herself and the Reverend Mother. She had to be conservative, or else risk the supplies running out by winter.

Though maybe she shouldn't have worried, considering how overflowing these particular mushrooms had grown. Apparently those donations had picked up as well. There was a little light streaming in from the city above, much more than on most nights. Maybe some of the upper neighbors had moved their homes, giving paths for moonlight to reach the monastery.

Then she stepped inside, and found the sanctuary transformed. Instead of facing the moon-window, the chairs were arranged around a glass case. Dried and shriveled flowers were all packed in around the case, all gone the same shade of rotting brown. And there in the center...

A batpony corpse, shriveled and mummified. A metal plate affixed to the bottom proclaimed what she was looking at. "The Wakeless Mare, journeys eternally in Dreaming."

"Me," she whispered, to nopony in particular. "How did I die?"

"I heard they stabbed you," said a familiar voice from one of the pews. "Gossip is sketchy out of Bravery. Everypony there likes to take more credit than they're due."

Mira turned slowly in place. She tensed as she did so, spreading both wings in case she had to fly away in a hurry. "Kallisto," she whispered. "Are you really here, or am I just—"

"Dreaming?" This wasn't the shriveled old mare who couldn't move from her bed without help anymore, but spoke with ancient wisdom. Instead, she was a pony not much older than she was. She wore a loose cloak over her whole body, with layers and layers of white wrapping underneath. Like mummy wraps, except unwound from her head. Tiny black letters scrawled over each one, glowing faintly with moonlight. "Of course you're dreaming, young Mira. That doesn't mean we aren't together."

Mira eyed the dark metal object on the bench beside her, a long tube with straps along its length, and a mechanism about hoof-sized near one end. "You going to kill me again? Every time I go to sleep?"

Kallisto sighed. "I don't blame you for your anger. I know you'll think of it as a betrayal, but I only wanted to keep you safe."

Mira grunted unhappily, slumping onto her haunches beside her own rotting corpse. "I've managed to stay alive in the waking world for all these years. I expected the Dreaming to be easier. I don't think I lasted a week."

Kallisto shrugged, flipping the hood off her face. Her mane was shorn close now, military fashion. She wore little bits of metal jewelry on her ears too, and more that clinked when she moved. "Every student dies when they're starting out. That's what makes the Dreaming ours. When the native creatures die, sometimes a spirit like them is reborn from sleepers' dreams. When we die, we return again the next night, unchanged."

Mira glared over her shoulder at the body, and the dark monastery. She didn't want to be in the gloom anymore. With a slight effort of will, their surroundings changed. The pews remained, but everything else was replaced by jungle, wild and untamed under the silvery moonlight. "You wouldn't believe what they're doing to the monastery after your passing, Kallisto. Superstition and false miracles—everything the moon hates. Luna's chosen can't turn their lies on each other!"

Just like that, Kallisto was standing beside her. She had her hood up now, and both wings emerging from her cloak. The strange metal object Mira took for a weapon now hung from her back, rattling as it moved. "That is no accident, Mira dear. The Sun Tyrant always meant to destroy our faith. Transforming the monasteries into base superstition strips bats everywhere of their birthright.

"Nopony would give me their fillies and colts to train, after what happened to the other priests. You were my only student, and your time was far too invested in survival. The chain is broken, and soon all who live to remember our magic will take it with them into the Dreaming."

She turned away, spreading her wings as though she were going to take off. "I'm glad you're back with the living. Without my potion, your exploration will be much safer. Here in your own dream space, you are as a princess yourself. When you master it, perhaps I'll see you venture beyond it one day."

She wiped away tears, replacing her mask. "When you die too, maybe you'll join me here. A vagabond instead of a queen, sheltering by feeble fires in the forgotten realms of sleep."

Mira could let her go—it would be easy enough, just wait a few seconds, let her old teacher fly away. But what other allies would she find waiting in the rest of the Dreaming? A stallion she thought she could trust put a knife into her back.

"Do you know why they killed me?" Mira asked. She didn't wait for a response. "I succeeded, Kallisto. I spoke with the Moon Princess."

Kallisto's wings snapped closed, and she spun. "You made it to the moon that quickly? A month at most, less perhaps. You couldn't have."

She shook her head. "She noticed me from Bravery, after a storm. She..." The last pony Mira had shared this with had killed her. But if anypony in Equestria could be trusted for loyalty to the moon, it was Kallisto. "She can't save her tribe, not without help. She spent every drop of power she had left to give me guidance, and entrusted me with the mission of freeing her."

Those words hung in the air, leaving a silence broken only by the occasional croak of jungle frogs, and the gentle trickling of distant water. Wind whistled through the leaves, but Mira knew there would be no dangers appearing from the darkness here. Her dream space was her home.

No danger except for Kallisto, who appeared inches away from her. She didn't put a knife to her throat, instead resting one leg on her shoulder, holding her close. "I know you wouldn't try to lie to me. What did she say? How can we free her?"

Mira met her eyes without looking away. Let her teacher feel her confidence. Maybe she would feel a little guilt for trying to kill her after that first sunrise. "She didn't have time to tell me. The Sun Tyrant noticed what she was doing, and silenced her communication. But before that happened, she gave me what she knew. I don't know how much exactly. I know it's in my head, because that's how I got in here again. But I don't know how much is there, or how to access it."

"I think I inherited some of it too," said another voice, so small she almost missed it over the other jungle sounds. The kitten hopped up onto a log beside her, stretching out in the moonlight. "I was in your bag. I see pictures now. Shapes and symbols, whispering words. Places I've never been. Memories that aren't mine."

Kallisto glanced between them, eyes sharp. "You have a familiar?" she asked. Apparently that was almost as interesting as what the familiar said. "I knew you were a talented and promising student Mira, but this?"

"Call it talent, call it unfair responsibility," Mira said. "I'd introduce you, but the cat hasn't given me her name yet."

Kallisto flicked her hood down again, exasperated. "Cats don't use names for themselves, they already know who they are. But if you give her a name, that's something to connect you. A way for one voice to find its way through dreams to others. Another thread means you can find each other more easily. Naming something gives that thing a little piece of you in return."

The kitten yawned, then started licking her paws. "I was going to let her figure that out. The pony might be big, but her experience is very small. Other cats with their ponies always sound so frustrated with bats who do not listen to them. But Mira doesn't have any other choice. Where else can she go for answers?"

"I'll call you... Pixie," she said. "I've been thinking of it for a long time, almost since we met. You always looked like a Pixie to me."

The cat huffed, but said nothing. That was apparently the closest to approval she would get from the creature.

"I wonder if you could help me with something else, Kallisto," she went on. "I know that's all a lot to take in... before I try to solve it, there's a creature I need to help. Their name is Sandy, and they trusted me enough to leave Hope. If you found me here, could they find me too?"

"Yes." Her teacher paced around her, shoving aside overgrown jungle foliage as she walked. "Any dream creature responds to their nature. A moth from Hope, well you need a hopeful dream. Along with some connection to them. You can't create that now, it has to already exist."

"I think we're friends," Mira said. "You said I need a hopeful dream?"

Mira scratched her chin, considering what might make her feel hope. Then she willed it—a new Understory, overflowing onto the jungle surface instead of hidden away underground. She saw thousands of bats, walkways through the trees, and huge orchards of fruit. There in the center of town was the monastery, where study of the night's secrets was enshrined in daily worship.

Most importantly, there wasn't a solar guard in sight. In fact, unicorn scholars had come here to study, fascinated and impressed by the cultural richness, dwarfing anything they could find in their homeland.

She stepped onto a walkway, and gestured to a vendor offering frozen mango treats, accepting one in her hoof without the need for money. It was her hopeful future, she didn't need anypony's permission for how to make it work. "I think if Sandy was going to find me, this is where they'd be," she said, taking a single, delicious bite.

Pixie followed her along the wooden railing, walking along a bridge between two tree-structures. The bats didn't need it, but in this future the other tribes didn't hate her. They visited her the same way creatures who wanted to learn about magic went to Canterlot. "Not bad. You've thought about this before."

"It's what the night princess will make for us," she whispered. "Maybe even better."

"Maybe," Sandy said. They snatched Mira's frozen treat from her hoof, taking a dramatic bite. "I thought you scary bats only ate bugs."

Mira flung both hooves around their chest, tears streaming down her face. "You're alive!"

"Only one of us got stabbed, Mira. Of course I'm alive."

It felt like only hours ago that Mira knew the cut of a knife across her throat, thrust by a hoof she thought she could trust. A bat pony just like her, somepony who should understand, somepony who should be willing to take steps to protect the rest of the tribe—instead doing everything he could to prevent Mira from doing what they all knew was necessary.

In a short time, she had reversed almost all of it—Sandy was here, Pixie was okay, and even Kallisto wasn't trying to kill her anymore.

Time in dreams was a strange thing. Minutes passed in her vision of a perfect Equestria, or maybe it was hours. That was the rest she really felt she needed, far better than anything she could find in that old monastery. Perhaps not abandoned anymore the way it had once been—but even that was a source of guilt, not relief. There would be no joy for her in that old place now, not without Kallisto living there.

Next thing she knew, they were all gathered in her home, an imagined mansion in the trees of many layers and filled with living plants. It was lit with mirrors and moonlight instead of torches or candles, but that never felt like it was inadequate.

"I keep coming back to the most important question," Kallisto said, sipping from a pitcher of chilled mango juice. "The night princess called on you to rescue her. That's a sacred duty, and seeking after it is noble. But how will you achieve it? The princess who called upon you is far wiser than any of us, and could not free herself. What could we do?"

The question instantly brought her out of her reverie, and down to the inescapable reality of her total inadequacy. Mira had no idea how to get Nightmare Moon free—all she had were bits and pieces of magical knowledge, none of which assembled into a complete picture.

"I know... that the princess is being held on the moon," she began. "I know her prison is designed to keep her in, not keep others out. And I know it's not perfect, because she already found one way through it. But..."

Her wings opened, fluttering nervously. "I also know that the Tyrant can see what happens there, because as soon as she turned her power on the Dreaming, she closed the hole our princess used. Whatever we find to get her out, we'll have to succeed on our first attempt."

Sandy's wings sagged at this news. She had her own plate of fruit now, mostly empty after their time catching up. "I haven't known you long, Mira. But succeeding the first time hasn't exactly been a hallmark of our work."

Kallisto stood, backing over to the wide, open window. "I was wrong to withhold proper instruction from you for this long," she said. "I can see you have a talent for Dreamcraft. You've willed a stable Dreamscape on your first attempt. If we had another decade, we could've transformed that raw talent into something powerful."

She snapped the curtains closed dramatically, casting a sudden shadow on her side of the room. "There are already precious few ponies who remember the world as it was. If the Tyrant gets her way, our tribe will fade into history, slowly crushed under the hooves of her loyal daywalkers. That's unacceptable."

"But?" Mira pressed.

"But that was already true before you were born. We had a just cause even back then, but we didn't have a plan. The princess has effectively created a... brilliant Dreamwalker, one with powers like hers. Between you and your familiar, you can probably manifest all her powers, or could with practice. You can travel between the dreams of sleeping ponies, and emerge at their bedsides in the waking world. You can rewrite dreams, to influence the sleepers when they wake. You can fight back nightmares, or conjure them into the waking world. You can bring daywalkers with you into that world for a short time, and solicit the aid of the Sparks."

The weight of those words settled on Mira. With them came some level of familiarity, just hearing the powers described awakened things the Nightmare princess had given her.

"The Tyrant's prison will not be escapable by any of those powers, or our princess would not be captive," Kallisto finished. "To release her, we'll need to do more than just travel to the moon. We need to go there with some power to undo the spellcraft trapping her. I don't know unicorn magic, do you?"

Mira gestured through the dreaming, levitating the window back open. A ghostly horn appeared above her when she did it, copying the magic a unicorn would've done. But if she wanted, she could look like one of them here, too. This was her Dreamspace, it couldn't trap her with labels and limits.

Sandy giggled. "Almost. But you still have wings."

Her old teacher was far less impressed. "If only the princess was imprisoned in your Dreamspace, it would be easy to free her."

Mira set her empty drink down. "I don't have a plan," she admitted. "But all those powers you say the Night Princess knew—the ones you think I have now. Even if we can't use them to break her free, we could still use them to assemble the way to do it. Like... traveling across dreams. Somepony in Equestria must know how the prison works, right? Maybe the first thing we should do is find our way into their dreams, so we can learn too. Find the weaknesses, then we'll know who to ask for help to break them."

"We can't invade the Tyrant's dreams!" Kallisto exclaimed. "Even if she doesn't have power over dreams, she'll have incredibly potent magic. Her dreams will be defended, and failure could render you permanently insane, and both of us erased completely."

Mira gasped. The audacity of that suggestion was appealing to her on some deep level, but it also wasn't what she had in mind. Maybe there would be a time for it—but Kallisto was right. It was much too dangerous for a young explorer and her vulnerable allies.

"If the Tyrant is anything like the other unicorns I've met, she doesn't do any of her own work. She'll have some... order of wizards or scholars somewhere who give her everything, while she pays them to be smart."

Sandy giggled again. "How many unicorns do you know, Mira?"

"No good ones," she answered. "Hollow Shades has a few. Most of them are just mean, but some of them are really mean. When the other tribes see it, that makes them mean too."

Mira didn't know how she'd done it, but suddenly her teacher was behind her, resting one foreleg on her shoulder. "Mira... even if they existed, those ponies are all dead by now. I'm one of the few who were young enough to even remember the night princess's banishment. Any scholars she had working for her were probably already old in those days."

That brought her up short. Ponies didn't live forever, and only bats even tried to escape their deaths to the Dreaming. Even if they had been traitor bats, she would have to find them here, not just wait for them to go to bed to watch their dreams.

"Okay, but—the Dreaming is huge, right? You always told me it was infinite. You can find everything here. Isn't that true?"

Kallisto pulled back, removing her leg. "It is."

"Does that include the old dreams of the dead? Lost knowledge, forgotten in the waking world?"

"You're looking for the Astral Sea," Sandy said, before Kallisto could. "On the borders of Hope, and... lots of other places. It's made of old dreams. But I've never heard of anypony who could find one. Except..." They trailed off, spreading their wings in sudden agitation. "Meridian. He can find anything. He was building an instrument for finding things in the sea. Not sure he was looking for old dreams, but—"

Mira hurried over, flinging her forelegs around the moth's shoulders. "That's perfect, Sandy!” she said. "We've already talked to him before. I'm sure he likes me enough to help."

"He wouldn't come with us," Pixie said flatly, hopping up onto the table. The cat had come and gone during the conversation as she pleased, sometimes listening and other times seeming entirely bored. Hopefully she spent some of that time watching over Mira's sleeping body down in the temple.

How was Night's ritual going, anyway? It was so strange to think of her body back there, surrounded by hundreds of strangers. Somepony could put a knife in her heart, and she might not even notice it had happened until she died here, and didn't wake up.

"This plan is simpler," Mira insisted. "We don't have to make a desperate trip to the moon. Just go near to where he's already living and do something he's already doing."

She turned towards the door, opening her wings. "Is there a way to go straight to Hope, without making such a long trip?"

"Easy." Kallisto followed her. "If you traveled there from Erebus, of course it took some time. But a dreamer's dream moves freely through the Dreamlands, matching whatever emotion is experienced within. All you have to do is make sure you exit at the right time. Joy is not the same as Hope, and its lands are not nearby."

Mira stopped at the doorway, without leaving into her imagined, ideal version of Understory. The city out there might be inviting, but it wasn't the hope she was looking for. "Walk me through how to do it."

"There's a typical way," Kallisto began. "But not necessary, when you have a resident of that land right here. Sandy can open a door for us, if they want to."

The moth snatched a few last pieces from their plate, chewing energetically, before joining Mira by the door. "Are you sure about this, Mira? The last time you talked to another bat about your plan, he tried to kill you. I don't want to lose my friendship with Meridian. I don't want him to stab me, either."

Mira nodded sympathetically. She could understand Sandy's fear. They had no body outside the Dreaming. If they died here, they would completely and totally stop existing. "I won't let that happen," she promised. "While you're with me, I'll do everything in my power to keep you alive, Sandy. You believed in me when nopony did, and I'll never forget that."

Sandy's wings buzzed nervously as she spoke, and they looked away, pawing at the ground. They took the front door in their hooves, then pushed it open. The place through it wasn't Mira's imagined Understory, but instead the familiar cobblestone streets and brass-roofs of Hope.

They were first through it, holding the door open with a back leg for the others to follow. "Time to see the mapmaker!" they said. "And convince him... again." They hesitated, just as Mira and Kallisto made it through the doorway.

Mira felt the change the instant her hooves landed on Hope's streets, and she was back in the familiar sunlight of the Dreaming. Too bright for her eyes, while simultaneously not hurting her head the way the true sun did. More importantly, her effortless power over the world around her had faded. She couldn't just reconfigure and erase anything that got in her way.

But some of those powers should still work for me over here, just less easily. She wouldn't just stare back stupidly the next time a pony tried to kill her, she would be ready. She wouldn't trust just because someone's wings looked like hers, either.

At least nopony in the adventurer's guild tried to murder her.

They reached the familiar steps to Meridian’s home, ascended to his door, and Mira knocked. There was no hesitation about it this time, or expectation that she would be turned around.

There was a loud shuffling from within, a gasp, something fell over—then the door opened.

The scene inside was utter chaos. Papers scattered, equipment broken, and the familiar mapmaker tied to a heavy chair, without any particular respect given to his comfort.

A pair of unicorns stood in the doorway, horns already glowing with power. "You must be Mira," one of them said. "We've been waiting for you."

Mira made her slow way into Meridian's apartment. The state of the interior was frightening, torn apart from one side to the other. His maps were scattered callously on the floor, his telescope deliberately shattered.

One unicorn stood near the door, his spear balanced over his back, point towards her as she stepped in. From the fury on his face, she had every reason to suspect he would use it. The other waited by the window, beside a bat tied by makeshift restraints. Sheets wrapped around his body, binding his wings, while cables hobbled his hooves together.

That soldier rested the spear against his chest, practically touching Meridian. Mira could escape one attacker, but that would leave the stallion to get stabbed.

"All of you, get inside," said the unicorn. "Or we kill the cartographer. That's right, I see you back there. Bat, moth. Everypony in here. Shut the door behind you."

Mira considered for a second, then kicked the door violently closed—right in Sandy's face, leaving them trapped outside. "They were my prisoners," she said, loudly. "They have nothing to do with this. And if they did, we would overpower both of you in about three seconds."

She faced him down, opening up her chest, and spreading her wings to either side.

"You have a problem with orders?"

She giggled. It took some discipline to force out the sound, but she managed. "You two new here or what? This is the Dreaming. You use that on me, and I wake up in the real world."

She strode past him into the kitchen, taking each step deliberately. There was an angry solar guard standing directly behind her, with a weapon they'd threatened to use... and Mira pretended she wasn't afraid. She reached the kitchen, removed a jar of tea leaves, then the only unbroken kettle from a shelf. "Thirsty?"

The other unicorn shoved Meridian forward, so roughly that he tripped and landed on his face. "You're so confident, bat. But what about him? Neighbors say he's lived here for centuries now, never leaving this house. Does he have a body to wake up to?"

She shrugged absently. "Maybe not. You gonna kill him or what?" Mira put the kettle onto the stove, then lifted the fallen chairs around Meridian's table. "Go on then. Get it over with." She leaned towards them, giving the unicorn the toothiest grin she could. The low light would probably have her eyes looking like slits, the perfect predatory gaze.

The unicorn kicked him roughly out of the way, up against the wall. Meridian grunted in pain, whimpering under his breath.

Keep your mouth closed, Mira thought, glaring at his back. If they think I care about you, you're doomed. "So you were looking for me?" She added a spoonful of tea to the strainer then turned on them again. "Whatever it is, tell me. I'm sure the sorcerer who sent you here will be upset if you waste the magic."

They moved towards her, surrounding her in the kitchen. Importantly, that left Meridian abandoned on the floor behind them.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?" the first unicorn asked. She couldn't really tell them apart—both wore the same gold armor, carried the same weapons. Did they both really have white fur, or was that just the magic of the armor? "You're accused of conspiring to free a capital prisoner, perpetuating forbidden magical practice, and consorting with Goetic Demons."

"We've witnessed the truth of those accusations. Your presence here is evidence of Dreamcraft. You traveled with a spirit of this land, no matter what you say about her."

"The last is true too," Mira said, taking a mismatched set of glasses from the cabinet onto a tray, and pouring tea in each. She made four, though she doubted Meridian would be drinking much hogtied on the ground. "I don't know what a 'goetic demon' is, but I spoke to Princess Luna. You sure heard about that fast."

She settled the tray between them, took a glass with her wing, then sipped. "What are you going to do about it?"

"The Golden Legion will protect Equestria," one unicorn said. "Traffic with the Dreamlands is forbidden, and this is why. We will find your secret hideout, drive out your cultists, and burn your shrines to your forbidden god."

The other unicorn smacked his spear onto the table, shoving it violently across. The teacups fell and shattered, spraying hot tea all over the floor. "You have this one chance, thestral. Abandon your designs. Take no apprentices, retreat from civilization. Your behavior will not be endorsed, but it may be ignored. Our princess graciously decreed mercy for your tribe. She elected not to make Equestria safe by removing you from it. You should not make her regret her mercy."

I should just agree and shut up. Rage boiled in her chest, brighter than any solar magic. As her emotions raged, a spell floated up from her memory, one of the many gifts the princess had given her.

"Her mercy." Mira set the cup down in front of her, flaring out both wings. "It's merciful to steal all the land and property we ever own. It's merciful to refuse any job we wish to take, or even to accept us as serfs. It's merciful to drive us into the mountains and caves to starve and freeze every winter. And when we do gather together and try and build a life, your Golden Legion marches down on us and tears it down.

"Your princess is a worse tyrant than any dragon or kirin who ever conquered. If that's her idea of mercy, I think I'll take my chances with demons."

She felt the nearest unicorn shift his stance, bracing to attack with the spear. Mira met his eyes, then spoke the words the princess had given her. Of course it wasn't just about the sound. She needed the intent behind them, the pronouncement of banishment for an outsider who did not belong here. "ZIROM TRIAN IPAM IPAMIS!"

The unicorn imploded. He gasped, then puffed away in a bloody cloud. The other disappeared less dramatically, taking his spear with him.

Mira waited expectantly for a few seconds, breathless from the effort. She might not have a horn, but that didn't mean the strength came from her any less directly.

Finally she turned, rushing over to Meridian. "Are you alright?" She gripped his bindings in her mouth, then started tugging

"I can't... I can't believe you just... you told him to kill me!"

She dropped the sheets around his forelegs, meeting his eyes. "I've dealt with bullies my whole life, Meridian. You can't win by fighting them directly—you have to make them think you don't care about what they do. Otherwise, it doesn't matter what you do, how much you beg—they'll always break everything they can."

She gestured at his broken house, complex telescopes and maps laying in ruins. "If all they wanted to do was talk to me, they wouldn't have done this. They'd be sitting at the table politely, and we could have a conversation."

She fell silent as she worked on the knot around his back, untying it and releasing his wings. The bat was covered in bruises and small cuts, but that was all. At least the unicorns hadn't killed him.

He opened his wings one at a time, wincing from the pain. Then he backed away from her, until his rump smacked against the wall. "You brought this here. I never should've talked to you... took you in. You need to leave, forever."

Something wiggled in her saddlebags, and Pixie appeared, hopping up onto the kitchen table. She took one look around the destroyed kitchen, then her attention settled on Meridian. "You're just gonna let them do that to you? What do you do next, fix everything so they can come back? Or do you think they'll let you live?"

"I don't know!" he yelled, voice wild and afraid. "I've never fought a princess before! I make maps!" He bent down, scooping up a wingful of drawing tools, a compass, and rolls of vellum. "I just want to go back to my work. I helped you, against my better judgment. I can see I made the wrong choice."

Mira leaned across the table, resting a wing on his foreleg. "Or maybe you made the right choice. Look at the way they treat us. Think about all the bats still living in Equestria suffering that right now. Whose side do you want to be on?"

Something tapped lightly on the window outside, quiet enough that Mira almost missed it. But Meridian was already on the edge of hysterics, and he leapt up into the air, pointing at the balcony. "You think there are more of them?"

"I don't know." Mira stalked past him to the door. She opened the curtains, just far enough to peek outside.

Sandy and Kallisto lingered behind her, crouching in the entrance. She'd acquired a spear for herself, or maybe it was just an iron fire-poker. Either way, it looked appropriately intimidating. Something to fight with if the soldiers were still here.

She stood up, then flung the door open. "Kallisto. No more soldiers outside?"

"None we saw." She stepped inside, with Sandy following close behind her. The bug didn't have any weapons of their own, but kept a lookout, eyes darting constantly back and forth.

"They could not bring too many to Hope," Sandy said. "The city has defenders. We do not tolerate violence. But visiting ponies are so rare, two would probably be let in without question. They must have an important mission, if they traveled so far."

"They sure did." Meridian stopped in front of his telescope, looking defeated. "I've been perfecting this observatory for decades. There is no instrument like it anywhere in the Dreaming. Now there's no instrument like it anywhere.

He let go, backing away from the cracked viewfinder. "What are you even doing back here, Mira? I thought you were on a suicide mission to tell the moon princess about the plight of our cousins still living on Equestria. What changed?"

"I succeeded," she said. "Wait, don't look so suspicious. I didn't get all the way to the moon. She noticed my search way before that, and spoke to me."

"She has a sacred order from the night princess," Kallisto said. She went around the room, locking every window and drawing every curtain. "We have a responsibility to help her. Unless you've abandoned any sense of loyalty and honor."

"I don't know what you expect me to do! I can't fight an army, I can't sneak past guards or resist a sorcerer. I make maps, that's it."

"We came to you for a map," Mira said. "Once we get it, I'm sure we can do something to help you hide again. Or you could even come with us. At least you'll have protection if they come back."

"What map is it this time?" he asked, defeated. "As you can see, my equipment is... in serious disrepair. It will take some time to recover all this"

"We can help you," Mira promised. She didn't have a clue what any of that entailed. But they had Sandy on their side, plus the power of a living dreamer. Those had to mean something. "We're looking for lost knowledge in the Astral Sea. I hear that's something you can find for us. You're the only one who can."

"In the..." He backed away, mouthing the word. "Astral Sea? With broken instruments, and probably more royal thugs bearing down on us? What could you possibly be looking for?"

"A spell. I need to know how Celestia's scholars built the prison that trapped Luna on the moon. They're all long dead, taking their knowledge with them. But it's still out there somewhere, on the sea."

She turned towards the window leading to the sea. The curtains were drawn, but she could still see the perpetual sunset light shining in through the cracks. "I don't know how else to help the bats. We have to find that spell, learn its weaknesses, then set her free."