The full moon ducked behind a purple cloud bank, casting shadows on Celestia and Luna as they investigated Sweet Apple Acres. Luna was in the pig sty, conversing with her porcine servants, and Celestia prowled the border between the farm and the outer fields.

Ponyville was missing. The split was seamless; Ponyville’s absence left no gorge or crater. The average pony would never have noticed the absent town, but Celestia was all too aware of the unnaturalness of it, standing on the dirt trail that led from the gate, underneath the white wooden arch. Instead of gazing at Ponyville, her sight roamed over the grassy meadow that was on the far side of the town. As she and Luna had observed when flying here, Ponyville was gone.

Celestia’s horn lit golden as she cast a spell. If Twilight was there, her jaw would have dropped to witness this magic she had never seen before. A barrage of questions, full of unbridled excitement that was guaranteed to descend into gibberish, would surely have followed.

Luna landed behind her, the air from her wings rippling Celestia’s coat like a breeze over a wheat field.

“The pigs describe it as anti-shadow, as a darkness that exists as an absence of absence. They claim it to be what I asked them to search for.”

“Lero’s escaped archetype.” Celestia said. She turned to face Luna, forlorn. “I can’t imagine it being this powerful. Surely we would have felt it’s magic when Ponyville disappeared.”

“I wonder if it is magic,” Luna said. “Who knows if magic works the same way in Lero’s world as it does ours?”

“Hmm,” Celestia said. “It’s as if Ponyville never existed. I requested an audit from the World System-”

“My word.”

“-and now we wait for its report.” She turned to face Luna. “Ponyville is too important. Even with the love we have for the ponies there, our friends, we know what this town is supposed to be.”

They heard the creaking of bones and shuffling of hooves well before Granny Smith approached them.

“Hail, Granny Smith,” Celestia said. “I hope you forgive our trespassing.”

“Lands sakes, I hear a Princess,” Granny Smith said, as she walked up to Luna and Celestia, taking turns peering into both of their faces. “I’d like to bow to ya, but my old bones are acting up tonight.”

“Please don’t concern yourself with bowing to us,” Luna said. “We are here uninvited, after all.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks. The Princesses are always welcome on my land. I’m brewing some tea right now, and I’d be mighty pleased if ya’ll came in to take a sip.”

“We accept your gracious offer,” Luna said with a nod. “Perhaps it will be a good thinking ointment as we wrestle with the question of Ponyville.”

“I see,” Granny Smith said, as she led the two back to her house. “And what happened to ‘ol Ponyville?”

“Well... it disappeared,” Celestia said, spreading a wing back to the entrance of Sweet Apple Acres.

Granny Smith blinked in the direction her wing was pointing.

“Uh huh. Where was it?”

Luna and Celestia swiftly glanced at each other, eyes round with surprise and apprehension.

“Ms. Smith, have you ever heard of Ponyville before?”

“Don’t believe I have,” Granny Smith said, and the shock of her words put a stop in the diarchs’ steps.

“Granny Smith,” Luna said, as she moved in front of her, the night sky flowing silky over her coat in a reflection of eternity. “Are Applejack and Big Macintosh here? Apple Bloom perhaps?”

“I don’t believe so,” Granny Smith said. She tapped her chin with a hoof. “Hmm, are they distant relatives? They shore sound familiar.”

“They are your grandchildren,” Celestia said.

Granny Smith laughed. “That’s a rich one! Grandchildren, hah! It’s just me in this little ‘ol house. Me and my memories.”

Granny Smith sang,

Luna and Celestia followed her into her house. They didn’t look at each other. All they could do was wait for the audit to finish.

The Steam Donkey wasn’t so loud tonight.

Mugs weren’t banging against tables demanding to be filled, laughter from ribald jokes weren’t bouncing around the ceiling, shouts weren’t bursting forth in the joy of a finished drink with good company. All around were suddenly sober ponies gazing at Lyra as she played her clarsach.

She was unusual for unicorn musicians, because she enjoyed using her hooves just as much as her magic. Her green magic danced along the strings, flowing like air, while her hoofs tapped and plucked. The ponies didn’t feel her music outside of them, despite what eyes and ears believed. It was if the music welled up from their own hearts.

And then Lyra sang, her voice almost as pure as a sine wave (she personally felt it was too pure; maybe some harmonics would give it some depth), and nearly every patron felt their heart pull to some strange place outside of Ponyville. It was impossible, this longing, and Lyra was singing about one of the legends, known as The Princess; a mare with a unicorn horn and pegasus wings that allegedly haunted the library.

But this song was new, and it folded in another legend of Ponyville, of a two-legged beast that walked during the phantom time, when phantoms stalked the planet while the ponies slept in warm beds behind locked doors and shuttered windows.

It was a love song about the Princess and the Beast. This was a bold mixture of two of the legends, a dangerous one as it could lead to accusations of disrespect and pretentiousness, but the patrons felt, deeply, that the story was right. Those two are supposed to be lovers.

She sang with her eyes closed, and each pony felt shock when she opened them, as if curtains were cast aside to reveal sunlight. Her magic stopped, and her hooves dropped from the strings. The song was over.

The clapping started slowly, and finished with stomping hooves against the wooden floor. It was not a riotous applause, and no pony cheered or whistled, but the applause rolled in, wave after wave, longer than any applause the tavern had heard before. Then the shouts of “encore” were cast at her like gold coins, and Lyra smiled, and closed her eyes, ‘shhh’ and ‘shush’ flooding the tavern until all was quiet.

She sang it again. Several of the patrons sang along, singing it to themselves.

Lyra finished, and it was only when she stepped down from the stage that the shouts started up again, as ponies jumped from their seats and ran toward her, touching her, thanking her for that beautiful song.

Lyra smiled as if in a daze, saying “thank you” out of courtesy. She heard “How did you come up with that?”, the question artists who rely on inspiration always dread hearing. Lyra just gave a loopy, enigmatic smile, and said, “From the leaves that float on the river.”

“Whoa.” Deep stuff to the drunk.

Phantom time was approaching, and Ponyville prepared to shut itself in for eight hours, as tavern stragglers rushed to houses, houses closed shutters, and the civil servants dimmed the gas lamps, hastily, with anxious looks toward home and herd.

Lyra plodded on by the riverside, dreamily, listening to the eternal rush of Ponyville river as it flowed into its interior reservoir, filling caverns forever unexplored, and rushing out again.

Lyra’s house, with Bon Bon, was close to the tavern, but tonight she felt like walking around the world to get there. It was only a thirty minute walk this way, and, in a real sense, she was only half-joking when she said the leaves floating on the river were inspiring. They moved with her, and she flowed with them.

She looked up above and was grateful to see the underbelly of the cloud system that coated Ponyville. Sometimes she would look up, and a gap would break the clouds, and Lyra would see the vast howling nothing, the screaming emptiness that was beyond the world. She’d shudder and keep her eyes on the ground.

“Why would that even scare you?” Bon Bon had once asked. “It’s natural. I mean, it’s always been there. It’s like being amazed at dirt or eggplants.”

Maybe so, but Lyra never liked it.

But that didn’t matter, it was just her and the floating leaves now. The clamor of the exiting patrons, hurrying home from Steam Donkey, echoed to her as whispers and soft sibilance on the grassy streets. Soon she walked away from pony sounds, approaching the white pillars—the remains of broken walls and beams from the rooms that used to house the Ponyville river, now jutting like ancient bones—and it was just her, the river, and the leaves.

She looked across the river, and saw herself.

The phantom split its face in a grin, blood dripping from the edges of her mouth as hundreds of needle teeth glistened yellow in the pale cloudlight.

“Minty, come out and playyyeeeayyy,” she sang.

“N-no.” Lyra could not look away. It was if her synapses were extinguished before she could even send the signal.

“Why not? I’m the only one that loves you.”

“…not true,” Lyra whispered.

“That empty feeling you have, that’s always pulsating? It’s nice. It’ll never get filled, ya know. You’ll always be empty. But I bet I could fill it forever.”

“Lyra, where have you been?” Bon Bon said, as she approached the phantom. “Phantom time is about to start! You need to come home now.”

Lyra moved her lips, but no words came out. Her strangled plea for Bon Bon to run was not even a pitiful squeak.

“Sorry Bon Bon, I guess I just got distracted with the river!” The phantom Lyra flashed a breezy smile at Bon Bon while pronging in place.

Bon Bon cocked a disapproving eyebrow. “It’s a little too late to be this excited,” Bon Bon said, though her stern frown loosened into poorly hidden amusement. “I’m going to have to brew up a whole pot of chamomile to get you to bed.”

“Lead the way!” Phantom Lyra said, and when Bon Bon turned around, a cavernous mouth of needles sprouted from the phantom, pushing away eyes and snout, and it snapped down on Bon Bon’s neck.

Bon Bon screamed and dropped to the ground, spasming, and she suddenly noticed Lyra across the river. Tears gushed from Lyra’s eyes, matching those of Bon Bon’s terror and pain.

“I’m dead because of you,” Bon Bon said. “Why didn’t you just come home?”

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said. She sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

The bloody Bon Bon pushed herself up and, with the phantom Lyra, stepped on the river, walking toward Lyra, their movements jerky as if from a novice puppeteer.

“You must pay for your bloodguilt”, Bon Bon said, as her steps didn’t even ripple the water.

Hooves curled under Lyra’s withers, and pulled her into the air. Lyra screamed as voice returned to her, and she struggled in the strong grip.

“Stop fighting me, dummy!” Rainbow Dash said, her scratchy, homey voice a welcome antidote to the awful sinister silkiness of the phantoms. “I’m trying to save you!”

“Bon Bon!” Lyra gasped. “She’s going to die!”

“She’s a phantom too!” Dash said, as the thunderous beat of her wings pulled them both over Ponyville. “You got duped, lady.”

Lyra willed herself to stare down toward the river. The two phantoms, looking up as Lyra was carried away, shot contemptuous leers as they faded into nothing. She spotted her saddle bags, holding her instrument, lying in the grass next to the river.

The gauze of terror and sadness that was draped over her senses was ripped apart by the hot claws of rage.

“Those scum!”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow Dash said, as she approached her tower. “I hate them too.”

“My bags-”

“Tomorrow.”

Dash flew through the watchtower doorway, dropping Lyra on the marble floor. Dash pushed the doors shut, and Lyra got a good look at the Nightmare.

Everyone knew Rainbow Dash, of course. Very few ponies—make that none except Dash—had the courage to not just watch the night, but to actively engage in fighting against it. Lyra watched as Dash’s muscles strained inside her black and yellow flight suit as she dropped the crossbar against the door. She pushed up her goggles and eyed Lyra.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” Lyra said. She extended a hoof. “My name is Lyra.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Dash said, as she booped Lyra’s hoof in greeting. She glanced out a window, and frowned. “Looks like Medley’s phantom is keeping watch tonight. Hmph.” Dash turned and walked toward the parlor, her hooves clicking staccato against the floor. Not sure what to do, Lyra settled on following behind.

“I’m getting a drink,” Dash said, when Lyra entered the well-lighted parlor. The floor was covered with a fringed rug full of triangles and squares, criss-crossing each other in gold thread across a scarlet canvas. Pillows were scattered around, mostly round ones for sitting, and in the middle was a simple low table of varnished applewood-a gift from Big Macintosh for saving Apple Bloom some years ago. Three lanterns lit the room.

Rainbow Dash took two mugs from the cabinet and pushed them under the nozzle of a big barrel, and filled both with cider.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Lyra said.

“I got plenty,” Dash said. “I don’t want it going bad.”

“Well, if you put it that way.” Lyra accepted a mug, and lay down on a round pillow, yellow with a fat button caving in the middle.

Dash lay down on the other side of the table and took a sip of cider. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t take you home tonight.”

“Oh, I know your policy,” Lyra said, seeing herself, in her mind’s eye, saying that just a tad too quickly. “I mean, it’s dangerous out there during phantom time, and you don’t need a pony like me weighing you down.”

“Bingo,” Dash said. “I’m sorry about your bags.”

“Well, it’s what they had in it,” Lyra said. “My clarsach. I can get it tomorrow. Really, it’s my fault for being out so late.”

“You weren’t really out that late,” Dash said. “The phantoms have been showing up earlier and earlier.”

Lyra gasped and turned wide-eyed as she leaned over the table, dropping an excited hoof on Dash’s hoof. “You’ve noticed too? I though I was the only one!”

“That’s my line,” Dash said, as she smoothly moved her hoof away. “Then again, I haven’t said anything about it until now.”

“What do you think needs to be done?” Lyra said, as she plopped back down on her cushion. She took a sip of cider as her golden eyes watched the stern Rainbow Dash, her reputation as a granite block proving true. “I mean, you’re the phantom-fighting machine.”

“I wish I knew,” Rainbow Dash said. “You can’t kill them, or at least I haven’t been able to.”

“You tried killing one?” Lyra said. What a night of revelations this was. Despite the late time and exhausting performance, Lyra felt herself invigorated, as if she could stay up all night. Maybe the cider was hitting the right spot. Maybe it was something about how well lighted this little parlor was, with the lantern light reflecting well off the yellow-painted walls.

“Several,” Dash said. There was no braggadocio in her words, so often heard from ponies claiming to have fought a phantom and won. There was too much disappointment. “I tried drowning them, dropping big pieces of stone on them… I grabbed a lantern and set one on fire, and he disappeared, like, instantly, but he came back the next night. They’re a real pain.”

Lyra laughed. Dash raised an eyebrow, and Lyra quickly tried to allay offense.

“No, it’s just that you’re completely unafraid of them,” Lyra said, grinning big. “I mean, everyone in this town talks about phantoms in hushed voices, but it’s like they don’t even effect you.”

Dash took a long sip. “I’m not afraid of those stupid things. I just hate them.”

And now Lyra raised an eyebrow. There was a crack in this block of granite, and it was made out of hate. And yet, even that was said in Dash’s scratchy, even voice. As if the thought was there, but not the emotion.

“We all hate them,” Lyra said. “It’s pretty cool that you’re afraid of nothing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh? And what are you afraid of?”

“Hey now, I didn’t say I was afraid of anything, just—”

“Come on Dashie, I promise I won’t tell,” Lyra said, singing it like a schoolyard taunt. She froze as she realized what she had just done, and instantly tried to cover it up by bringing her mug up to her mouth, popping herself in the lip and splashing a drop of cider onto her coat. Blast it Lyra, we aren’t friends, you can’t treat her so familiar, and a little sting set in at the thought of ‘not friends’.

“Hmm, well,” Dash said, as she stood up. “I need to make my rounds. Have as much cider as you want.”

She turned curtly toward the foyer, and Lyra watched, almost mournfully, as this tough and brave mare left her.

“I’m scared of the sky, myself,” Lyra said, and Dash’s ears swiveled, though she continued her stride toward the exit.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes,” Dash said. She pushed through the gate and took off, the gate clanging behind her.

Lyra let out a low groan, plopped back into the pillows, and crescendoed into an aggravated shout.

So I offend my rescuer, Lyra thought. Great.

Lyra sunk into the pillows, not asleep, but generally unaware of time and even of herself as she thought on her breathing. This was something that always came naturally to her, and though she could never actually explain why, it always served to center her thoughts and feelings. There was too much raging alcohol and adrenaline grown stale with old fear for it to work well, but it stopped her from having to think about her stupid, stupid faux pas just what was I thinking—

The gate clanged, and Lyra shot straight up, adrenaline recharging but quickly evaporating as she saw Dash walk back into the parlor.

“Geez, you gave me a fright,” Lyra said.

With a deft flick of her wing, Rainbow Dash tossed Lyra her saddlebags.

“Found your harp… thing.”

“Clarsach!” Lyra said with joy. Her magic pulled it out, and plucked a string. “Aww, you’re too kind to risk yourself for this! I bet you had to fight an army of phantoms to get it back.”

"Nah, there wasn’t any around it,” Dash said. “You were pretty much the last pony I saw out there, so it’ll probably be a slow night.”

“I see,” Lyra said, as she watched Dash take her seat on the other side of the table. “Um…”

“I’m scared of the sky, too,” Dash said.

Lyra was busy hoofing her clarsach, testing the strings, flicking away a blade of grass, rubbing away a scratch, but she put it down and fully faced Rainbow Dash, who was looking askance at the mug.

“Doesn’t it seem… malicious?” Lyra asked, cocking her head. “Like it’s against us all.”

“It’s worse than the phantoms,” Dash said. “You know, I’ve never flown above the cloudline.”

“Really!”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash played with her empty mug, the condensation sheeting off the side like glaciers sliding into a polar ocean. “It is malicious. Evil. I know for a fact that it’s connected to those phantoms, but I can’t prove it. It’s just something I feel.” She pushed her mug away and leaned back on the pillows. “A big ‘ol void watching everything.”

“And we down here being watched,” Lyra said. She pressed her lips shut to hide a yawn.

“There’s a bed for you across the hall,” Dash said, pointing a hoof at an arched doorway, candles lighting the polished wooden floor. “I still got plenty of shifts for the night.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said, this time not even trying to stifle a huge yawn. “I’m bad company.”

“You’re not bad at all,” Rainbow Dash said. “I just keep strange hours. Part of the job, you know.”

“Hmm. I wonder why the phantoms don’t just try to invade our homes.”

“Heh. I got theories on that, but let’s talk about it later.”

Lyra blinked, muttered a good night, and staggered to the bedroom.

Morning-time arrived, and Lyra awoke, encased in a bed sheet, as she blinked and instinctively looked for her window. The one that was there wasn’t hers—too wide, too circular—and, after a confused panic of looking around an unfamiliar room, finally remembered where she was.

Next to her, on top of the sheets, was Rainbow Dash. Lyra peered at her as the lamps outside, slowly brightening, pushed shadows away and revealed happy ponies, eager to start the day.

Rainbow Dash was the exception to all this, and she almost looked vulnerable lying here asleep, with no flight jacket and goggles. Lyra got a good look at her cutiemark, a lightning rainbow from the clouds. I guess that is her, Lyra thought. Something both awesome and flashy flying down to rescue us.

Her stomach rumbled, and Lyra really, really wanted to get home and get something to eat. Bon Bon was probably worried sick about her, but of course everyone knew Rainbow Dash would rescue any stray pony, but she was up in the sky and I’m not a pegasus and I want to touch ground.

“Rainbow Dash?” Lyra whispered. She poked Dash’s hip and inhaled sharply at the hard, powerful muscles under her hoof, the strongest she had ever felt. My goodness, she has to be the most fit pony alive, Lyra thought. She let her hoof linger a bit too long, because Rainbow Dash said, “I’m not into mares.”

“O-oh, that’s not what… I mean…”

Dash turned over and greeted Lyra with a grin. Lyra’s blush deepened, thrilled to discover that this stoic mare had a beautiful smile.

“I know you didn’t,” Dash said. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning. Did you have to rescue any other ponies?” Lyra pushed ahead, hoping to distract herself from the embarrassment she felt.

“Nope, and that’s why you woke up with me.” Dash rolled out of bed and stretched. “Well, let me take you home. I can hear how hungry you are.”

“Sure, just drop me off down below.”

“Nah, that’s fine, I can take you home. You live with Bon Bon, right? I know right where that is. I buy a bag of horehound from her every now and then.”

Dash trotted toward the foyer, and Lyra followed. She grabbed her clarsach and fitted it into her saddlebag, using her magic to strap it down tight over her back. After an exploratory tug or two, she decided it wouldn’t just fall off in mid-air. Or on the ground.

Dash squatted low to the floor, spreading out her wings. “Hop on my back, put your hooves around my chest—not my neck—and please watch out for the wings.”

“Okay,” Lyra said. She sidled on to Dash’s back, letting her hindlegs hang over her strong hips, and as soon as she wrapped her forelegs around her chest, Dash took off, blasting down the foyer, through the entryway, and out into Ponyville.

To Lyra’s credit, she managed to stifle her scream, and gently fell into her meditative breathing, letting the breath fill her awareness, pushing out the awareness that she was a wingless creature in the air flying on a pony who is actually smaller than I am!

But Dash’s control was perfect, and it wasn’t but ten seconds later that Dash put on her air breaks and drifted down to a cobblestone street, landing in front of Bon Bon’s house. She had her mouthful of broom handle, sweeping the front stoop. She arched just enough of an eyebrow to see Rainbow Dash make her landing, while a sheepishly grinning Lyra hung on. Bon Bon spat her broom out, aiming perfectly at the door jamb, where it stood upright. She sauntered out to meet them.

“Thanks for bringing her home, Rainbow,” Bon Bon said, not letting her gaze, full of arching eyebrows and smirking lips, leave Lyra’s now suddenly coy countenance. “I figured she was with you when she didn’t come home last night. Hoped, anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said. “I got caught by surprise.”

“Well, she’s safe now,” Rainbow Dash said. She flicked a wing in salute at Bon Bon. “Ma’am,” she said. She turned to Lyra, nodded professionally, and saluted. “I’ll be on my way now. Take care.”

“Nice meeting you, Rainbow Dash,” Lyra said.

“Same,” Dash said, and she blasted off into the sky, the cobblestone swirling torrents of dust marking her blastoff, and Lyra watched her loop down over the horizon and head back to her watchtower. Only then, after those wings carried Dash away, did Lyra let herself linger on how powerful those back muscles felt, pressed up against her stomach and chest, how wonderful it was to feel helpless, having to put her complete trust in the power and skill of another mare… wow.

Bon Bon leaned her head over to Lyra, her arch expression not entirely gone. “So,” Bon Bon said, “you decided to fall for a bent mare.”

“Yep,” Lyra said. She broke out of her reverie and faced Bon Bon finally, and laughed. “Welcome to the Lyra Heartstrings show, huh?”

“I’d ask for a refund,” Bon Bon said, as she turned to enter her house. “Now come get your breakfast before I throw it out.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lyra said, peddling a cheerfulness that she didn’t have.

“I wasn’t even out that late,” Lyra said, chewing through a mouthful of oats and honey. “I was just taking the long way home by the river, when I got attacked by my own phantom.” Even the sweetness of the honey turned bitter at that memory. “I couldn’t have lost track of the time. Even Dash says they’re appearing earlier and earlier.”

“Hmm, well, she would know,” Bon Bon said. “I’m sorry for chewing you out here.”

“Oh, I know you were just worried,” Lyra said with a sticky smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Mmm hmm,” Bon Bon said. She didn’t always have her sardonic switch in the ‘on’ position when talking to Lyra. She believed her story about the phantoms coming out earlier.

“Well, if you see the lanterns start dimming, then come home. That’s what I do. It doesn’t matter if they seem to dim earlier or later, just start coming home.”

“Yeah…” Lyra started, and she stopped, slowly lowering her spoon into her bowl. She instantly began shoveling the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, barely tasting the fruit of Bon Bon’s labor.

“And you’ve just thought of something,” Bon Bon said. “Something that’s going to end with you running around town yelling at ponies.” She didn’t even have the energy to shake her head at it. Lyra was just too tiring sometimes.

Using her magic, Lyra tossed the bowl and spoon into the sink and ran to her room, pushing away piles of sheet music and broken strings that littered the floor. She levitated her brush and combed out her mane and freshened up her coat. Somehow she pushed notebooks and pencils into her saddlebag with her hoof. As fast a caster as she was, multicasting was something only the best of the best could accomplish.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Bon Bon called from the kitchen, as she busied herself with cleaning Lyra’s dishes. She heard running water from the bathroom sink, and was satisfied.

Shortly afterward, Lyra stormed into the kitchen.

“Hey, you know those books and plays that have a character saying something in an offhand manner, and then the other character says, “You’re a genius!” and some montage or pass time occurs where the off-hand remark gets put into action, and it solves everything?”

“Yes?”

“Isn’t that just such a rotten cliche? I mean, how often does that happen anyway, that—”

“No!” Bon Bon said, splashing the sink water with the scrubbed wooden spoon, sending white suds on a lazy trajectory over the sink and onto the stove. “You are not using me as an audience to deconstruct… tropes or whatever. I want a refund on that, too.”

“Sorry Bonnie, but I got to go,” Lyra said. She placed a minty fresh kiss on her check. “Love you.”

For a moment, Bon Bon’s switched into sincerity mode. “I love you too, Lyra.” That was too much, so sardonic was powered on again. “Even if it’s against my better judgment.”

Lyra gave out a merry giggle, more from general excitement than amusement at Bon Bon’s words. “Well, to the library I go,” she said. She tightened her saddlebags and dashed out of the house.

The door shut, and Bon Bon finished cleaning the dishes. She didn’t wipe the kiss away.

Lyra sat in her pile of books, all open, marks and scribbles in her notebook, as she let herself digest what she had been reading.

It was common knowledge that the phantoms came out at night. Night was a specific time of their twenty-four hour day, a day set to match the natural circadian rhythm of ponies; awake sixteen hours, asleep eight hours. The lamps were set by the Twilight Bureau, an ancient service that kept up with the clocks as well. When the night started, the time for ponies to go to bed, the Twilight Bureau dimmed the lamps. They stayed that way until morning time, when they were slowly brightened again. All little ponies were taught since birth to be inside when the lamplighters dimmed the lamps.

The Twilight Bureau was run by Spoiled Rich, who answered to Mayor Mare. There didn’t seem to be anything sinister in either of them, but there was something wrong with how the Twilight Bureau ran the day and night cycle. But assumptions with no proof behind them was all Lyra had.

Lyra collected her notes, stuffed them into her saddlebags, and started the process of placing the books on the return cart. The library was a cozy oak tree that always filled Lyra with poignant feelings, full of longing, sadness, and happiness, feelings she didn’t understand, as if she somehow missed it even though it wasn’t gone. They were sometimes too much to deal with, which was why she didn’t visit the library often. Cheerilee, the local school teacher, was the volunteer librarian and performed record keeping duties each evening. Otherwise, the library was run on the honor system.

Lyra levitated her books onto the return rack, and, as she moved toward the exit, caught a flash of rainbow colored hair in the fiction section. She froze, meditated to lower her racing, pounding heart, and trotted over to where Rainbow Dash was browsing through adventure books, laid flat on the floor.

“Rainbow Dash! Great to see you! Again!”

With a burst of her powerful wings, Dash swooped toward Lyra, blasting up a wake of books, overflowing with tales of daring and do, and hid behind the receptionists desk, blessedly empty.

“Lyra!” Dash hissed. “Did anyone see me? Is anyone else here?”

“What? No,” Lyra said, breathless from the terrific speed and sudden stop. “Just you and me.”

Dash turned on her, frowning. “What did you see, huh? Sneaking up on me?”

“I… I didn’t sneak on you,” Lyra said. “I was doing some research on the lamp system. I was turning in my books—”

“What. Did. You. See?”

Lyra gulped. “You reading adventure books.”

Dash’s face fell. “You can’t tell anybody about that.”

Lyra, worried and even a little scared, made an intuitive leap and grinned like a madmare. “Are you seriously worried about ponies knowing you read books?”

“Shh!”

Lyra laughed and bounded out from behind the desk. “Rainbow Dash, please. Everypony reads books.”

“I’m not everypony,” Dash said. “I got an image to keep. And how did you get so quiet? No one ever sneaks up on me.”

“Oh, you like that? I’m good at it. Always have been.” Lyra relaxed her muscles, her very thoughts, and let stillness flow over her. “You have to maintain balance,” she said, voice soft, clicking like pony steps. “Four hooves in balance with the soul of the planet.” She stepped forward. Dash strained her hearing, but heard nothing. It was her mind trying to fill in the tap tap of hooves against wood as Lyra flowed.

“That sounds like a bunch of hoo-haa,” Dash said, finally. “But it’s a cool trick.”

“Thanks!”

“So… lamp system, eh? I guess that phantom incident really messed you up.”

“It made me consider a lot of what goes on around here,” Lyra said. It sounded cryptic in her mind, but goofy when said out loud. “I’m going to—”

“Look!”

Dash pointed toward the magic section, Lyra turned to look, and playing on the lint and dust floating near the upper window was purple. Shades of purple, as the watery, opaque form of a pony moved as if trapped in the bright lamp light flowing through the window. A horn moved sharply, and wings unfurled.

“It’s the princess,” Lyra whispered, in awe. The princess turned, eyes forming and looking upon the two ponies, first in surprise, and then in the most open love and familiarity.

She knows us.

Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Lyra and Dash, in their mind, filled in the word, “Girls”, and their heart leapt. Dash lay the tip of her wing on Lyra’s back.

Her mouth moved again, and they saw, “more light.” She smiled, and there was love at the end.

She faded away.

It was a little while before Lyra realized Dash’s wing was on her, and regrettably for her, Dash realized it as well and quickly retracted it.

“She… she loves us?”

“Legend of The Princess,” Dash said. “She loves us all.”

Lyra struggled to hold onto the impression. She had a dream, a shared dream with Rainbow Dash, and now it was fading away like fog from the morning.

“What did she say? Do you remember?” Lyra said, groping in her memory. Dash was transfixed on that spot near the window. She wrangled her attention away and forced herself to face Lyra.

“Come with me. I have something I want to show you.”

She trotted outside, expecting Lyra to follow. Lyra stopped by the fiction section to magically levitate the spilled adventure books, and place them on the return tray.

“Did you really have to do all that?” Dash said, with a touch of scorn. Lyra just grinned.

“Gotta help Cheerilee when we can.”

“Uh huh.” Dash squatted low to the ground. “Hop on. You’ll ride me like you did this morning.”

Lyra was thankful that Dash couldn’t see her perverted grin.

They landed outside of Fluttershy’s cottage. Nearby was the patch of trees known as Everfree Woods. No one liked going there, as it was wild and independent. Local legend had it that the woods could bend and morph itself, forcing the wayward traveler to repeat paths already taken. Phantoms were known to be there, even during daytime, though they were insubstantial and allegedly harmless.

One time, a colt was lost in the woods for days. Even search parties, using rope and signals, couldn’t find him. He appeared some days later, haggard, but in good spirits. When asked how he escaped, he only said, “You gotta go up, left, down, left.”

Unhelpful advice, and the incident quickly passed into the boredom of old nags’ tales.

“We aren’t going in there, are we?” Lyra asked.

“Of course not,” Rainbow Dash said. She landed and squatted again, and Lyra regretfully disembarked from her lithe little body. “But I got something to show you.”

Dash stalked toward the edge of the woods, next to Fluttershy’s property line, a simple wooden fence broken only by the chicken shed, from where contented clucking drifted into the noon air.

“Look,” Dash whispered, and Lyra’s eyes widened. Dash gently shut her lower jaw.

The Beast was stalking through the woods as light passed through him, transparent over the dark woods that always seemed to cast their own autumnal light, golden like old memories.

The Beast was clothed, and his muscles bulged through the white shirt as he grappled with something invisible.

“What is he-”

“Shh,” Dash said.

A phantom appeared in his claws; Golden Harvest’s phantom, but now it morphed into darkness and a runny void that seeped through his fingers. The phantom faded away, and the beast turned, causing Lyra to bite her bottom lip, and then walked into the depths of the blackening woods.

“He’s gorgeous!” Lyra said, almost breathless. “The way he just glides on two legs! And those claws.” She glanced over to Rainbow Dash, who was viewing her with a great deal of consternation.

Lyra laughed. “So? I saw how you were looking at him. You’re attracted to him too.”

Rainbow Dash scowled. “Shut up! I’m not…” her view drifted back to the woods. “Don’t you think it’s weird, though? To feel that way?”

“Sure it’s weird!” Lyra said. “But so what? Be weird. The Beast is sexy, and we can both be weird all day believing it.”

Rainbow Dash let out a groan of disbelief. “That’s not even why I brought you out here! Look, don’t you see? I only ever see The Beast during this time of day, and it looks to be the same time as The Princess shows up.”

“So they’re connected,” Lyra said. A hen clucked. “I’ve always felt that, for some reason.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I even made a song about it, even though I never saw the Beast before. You know, I don’t like calling him the Beast.”

“Me neither,” Dash said. “He fights phantoms, so he’s okay in my book. I don’t know what else to call him.”

Lyra grinned. “The Sexy Beast.”

Dash huffed and rolled her eyes. “I hope I don’t have to hear about that all day.”

“You won’t, I promise. Hey… how about we go to lunch? My treat. I owe you for saving me.”

“Just doing my job,” Rainbow Dash said “And I’ll pay my own way, if you don’t mind.

This day was going better than Lyra could have ever hoped.

Slowly Rainbow Dash let down her guard and opened up to her. As far as Lyra could tell, she was a bit of a loner. At least, she didn’t know any other friends Dash had.

What Lyra was seeing now was the hidden bloom of a gentle, even girly mare. It was cute, and it was with a sinking heart that she knew she was going to have a hard time getting over her crush.

I shouldn’t have invited her to lunch, and the thought sent her heart lurching, falling and desperately grabbing at air, hoping for some kind of hope to cling to. I’m just making this worse for myself. Breathe, Lyra…

“So, you’re a singer,” Dash said, when she finished chewing through a bite of her daisy sandwich on hay bread. “I’m guessing you sing while you play that harp?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lyra said. “I write songs about old folk tales, at least the ones I can find. Sometimes I just make one up out of whole cloth.”

“That’s so cool!” Rainbow Dash said. She was giving in to her natural excitement now, and Lyra noticed it. It was flattering, that Rainbow Dash would open up to her like this. “I need to watch you sing one day. Let me know your schedule, because I’d love to come see you.”

“You got it, Dash,” Lyra said. “I need to watch some of your performances too.”

“What performances?”

“Well, aren’t you the fastest flier in the world?”

“Oh.” Dash dropped her sandwich on her plate. “I guess.”

“What do you mean ‘I guess’? You mean you don’t know?”

“No, I do know. I am the fastest,” Rainbow Dash said. “It’s just… I could be so much faster if I could just get the altitude.”

“Well, why don’t… oh.” Lyra nodded, ending her nod upward, toward the void always hovering above them.

“Yeah. That.”

They were silent for awhile. The lanterns, recently at their brightest, were being dimmed by the members of the Twilight Bureau. This was the signal that noon was over.

“Daytime is half over,” Rainbow Dash said. “Working hours for me soon.”

“Yeah,” Lyra said. Her breathing stopped, her pupils shrunk, and she dropped her sandwich.

Rainbow Dash flapped, leaving her seat, glaring into whatever distance Lyra was staring at. “What?” she hissed, “What do you see?” She turned back to Lyra, who was grinning.

“Uh…”

“It’s light!” Lyra shouted. Patrons stopped mid-bite as they turned to look at this shrieking green mare. Most thought, ‘oh, it’s just Lyra’, and continued eating. Her eccentricities were known well enough that her shouting about light in a restaurant was normal behavior for her.

“Don’t you get it? The Princess and the Beast only appear at midday, when the light is brightest. When the lamps dim, the phantoms appear when they are at their lowest!”

Dash squinted at her. “Lyra, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“No, no it’s backwards! The lamps aren’t being set in time with the day, the day is controlled by the light! We’ve been doing it wrong this whole time! We can get rid of the phantoms forever, but what we need is—”

“—more light”, Rainbow Dash said. They both remembered now what the Princess had told them. Now Dash was getting infected with Lyra’s high spirits. “We need to go to the Twilight Bureau and fix it right now!”

“Yeah!” Lyra said, jumping out of her chair. It clacked against the ground, and the patrons cast curious and disapproving stares at her and the deceased chair. Even for Lyra, this was too far. “Get Mayor Mare in on it, too! We can get all of the lamplighters out and fire every single one of those suckers up.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Dash said, as she took to the air, her exit slightly more graceful.

“Paying the bill, for one thing,” Sky Gem said, as she slapped the ticket on the table. While eat-and-flee wasn’t going to happen in a world where everypony knew everypony, it was just good business sense to reign in overly-excited mares.

Dash reached into her jacket and tossed out a hoofful of bits. Lyra levitated exact change from her saddle bag. “Keep the change,” Lyra said.

“Yeah, later,” Dash said, and the two ran to the Town Hall.

Sky Gem eyed the retreating mares while sliding the bits into her cash tray. I hope Lyra realizes Dash isn’t into mares, she thought.