>You are Moss Moon, and you are feeling guilty
>Flowers dot the ancient road that leads up to the ruins
>You look at them, and not at Anon
>He’s walking beside you, cheerful and energetic
>You can still hardly believe that he’s alive
>He wasn’t even breathing when you’d placed him in the Spring, and his skin had been as pale as the moon
>Yet here he walks now, his body intact, as if he had never been injured at all
>A miracle, if you’d ever seen one
>You can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to hug him, knowing that he was all right
>And you can’t stop thinking about the dream he told you of
>About his interaction with the Goddess, and the powers she gave him
>Nor can you shake the ill sensation you have, knowing that you lacked the courage to tell him about your own dream
>That dark, horrible dream that you’d had while you slept beside the Spring
>The one that had filled you with dread, and with guilt when Anon had thanked you for saving him, and when he’d looked at you with such admiration
>He has to know, you tell yourself
>And you swear that you will tell him
>Just… not yet.
>The road levels out onto a plaza worn by wind and time
>Bordering the square are ruined structures, some partially-collapsed
>Their strange white walls take on a mother-of-pearl sheen in the evening light
>Anon points toward a massive structure in the center, with great twisting spires that were once the color of gold
>“Is that where we’re headed?”
“That’s the one.  Looks like a palace, don’t you think?”
>At the base of the structure is a grand archway, in which there was probably once a gate
>Now it stands wide and empty
>Stepping tentatively inside, you find yourself in a vast and empty court with a vaulted ceiling
> A set of stairs sweeps upward from the room’s center, illuminated by three great panes of stained glass
>Anon inhales sharply
>“I’ve never seen a place like this before.”
>It really is amazing; you’ve seen other buildings like this in the complex, but none were as large
>With your nose you indicate the stairs and balcony, where two of the room’s many exits lead into semi-darkness
“Let’s go up, the place I wanna see is probably back there.”
>But as you head up the stairs toward one of the shadowy archways, Anon stops to inspect the stained glass
>He approaches the leftmost: the cosmos, rendered in vitreous yellow and orange
>A faint golden glow alights upon him, blessing him with color
>“It’s beautiful.”
>You peek through the archway into the next room
“If you like that, I think you’re really gonna like what’s on the other side.”
>Just as you thought, he’s flabbergasted after he rounds the corner with you
>You smile a little, seeing his eyes widen with wonder
>An enormous high-ceilinged hallway stretches out in front of you
>Stained glass windows line the walls, casting pastel colors on the worn, checkerboard floor
>The roof has partially collapsed, where it looks like a giant hole has been punched into the stone
>A ray of twilight shines down through floating motes of dust, spotlighting the floor with a purplish tinge
>In the wall below is a similar hole; through it, you can see the Lunar Spring several hundred feet down
>You saunter up to one of the windows to examine it
>The glass is broken, but the lower half is still present, depicting in shades of green what appears to be a unicorn tending to a garden
>Anon is wandering from window to window, enraptured
>As you go to him, you notice strange, dark shapes along the ground
>Upon closer inspection, you see that they are roots
>They run along and into the floor, some creeping out through broken windows
>Following them into the shadows of the hallway’s furthest reaches, you discover that they lead to something incredible
>Rising up in the darkness, backed by some kind of glass crest, is a massive tree
>Its upper boughs sink into the ceiling, and its trunk is as wide around as thirty ponies standing side-by-side
>Resin oozes from the roots, glowing faintly
>This must be the largest sunroot tree you’ve ever seen
>All your torches were lost in Foal Mountain
>You gather up some of the resin, with the intent to make some paste later using water from the Spring
>It won’t be perfect, but it will suffice
>You go to look for Anon, and find him staring up at one of the windows
>This one runs a spectrum of pinks and purples, from a rosy dawn color down to an indigo nether
>Two very large ponies, these with wings and horns, watch over a procession of smaller ponies that appear to be circling endlessly in and out of the earth
>You are reminded of your dream
>You swallow
“Anon.”
>“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier, but… I had an awful dream last night.”
>He tears his gaze away from the stained glass to look at you
>“What of?”
>His concerned expression gives you another twinge of guilt
“It started with me back home, in the Stronghold,” you begin, painfully.  “The walls were black and white, and I could feel nothing but dread.  I could see something coming down from the North.”
“It was dark and shapeless.  I couldn’t look at it directly, no matter how hard I tried.”
“When it got to the Stronghold, I could see everypony out on the streets.  Every bat, every foal… and you.”
>You pause, and force yourself to continue
“I tried to scream, but you know how it can be in dreams.  I couldn’t move or speak at all.  And that thing, whatever it was, started seeping into everything, turning it to rot.”
“All the stones fell away and every last pony sank into the Stronghold as it melted.  No… no one escaped.”
“Including you.”
>You glance up at him, wincing, expecting him to be perturbed
>He just gives a little shrug 
 >“Well, not all dreams come true.”
 “You don’t understand,” you say. “That’s not where it ended.”
>Now he frowns, and you once again stare at the ground
“After that, I was alone.  The mountain became a plain, and everything was red.  There was fire and blood, a-and great walking shadows, and you again.  You, coming from the North.”
>Anon interrupts, his voice oddly strained.  “I thought I died in the first part.”
>You shake your head, feeling yourself tremble
“No.  You come back, wielding a black sword and leading an army.”
“Fire burns in your footsteps and the earth crumbles behind you.”
“Your soldiers kill everything they touch, and nopony can stop them, until only I am left, and I step forward.”
“And in the dream… I kill you.”
>All is silent in the great hall
>Moonlight filters in through the stained glass, painting the ground with ghostly color
>When you finally look up at Anon, he’s standing stock still, looking pale
>He looks away
>“Come on, Moss Moon, it’s not… that’s not going to happen.”
>You take a shaky breath, feeling your eyes getting wet
“I don’t know if you have a choice.”
>You hear anger in him.  “Of course I do.  Why would your Goddess give me this power – whatever it is – if she just intended for me to die?”
“Miracles aren’t free, Anon.  And power doesn’t come without a price.  She might be able to control you now, but who’s to say what will happen down the line?”
>He has no response to this
>You can’t look at him, so you stare at your hooves
>After a few moments you feel his hand on your head
>“Look… you’re my friend,” he says.  “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
>“I don’t want to forget who I am, or what you mean to me.”
>“So don’t give up on me, Moss Moon.”
>You feel the nagging doubt, the lingering dread brought on by the dream
>But a small part of you knows that the dreaming is not absolute
>Your life has been a long series of horrors and crushing disappointments
>Beatings, alienation, loneliness
>Every chance at happiness, snuffed out just as it began to alight
>Perhaps this time, it will be different 
“I won’t.”
>Anon kneels and hugs you, pulling your head against his chest
>“Thanks.”
>You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat
>“Is that a… tree, over there?”
>He gives you a last squeeze before standing up
>Shakily you lead him over to the huge sunroot
>“Look here, there’s something under it.”
>It’s true; hidden at the base of the tree, obscured by roots, is what was once a richly ornamented throne
>Now the tree has almost completely engulfed it
>Your attention is immediately drawn to the dark glimmer of something shiny buried up under the tree
>A huge purple gemstone, embedded into the crown of the throne
>It must be worth a fortune
>You and Anon exchange a glance
“It’s an awfully pretty stone,” you say
>“Exquisite.”
“It would be a shame to just leave it here.”
>“A travesty.”
“Shall we?”
>“Lets.”
>After gleefully prying the gem loose, the two of you return to the Spring
>You have to help Anon navigate the path, as it’s quite dark and the moon is obscured by clouds
>Nevertheless, the water is glowing faintly when you arrive, though not as strongly as the twelve vials sitting by the shore
>Looking out over the Spring’s surface, you feel nothing but uncertainty about the future
>You pray that Hex, Nightstone, and the other foals are all right
>You worry for Grandmother in her old age
>You wonder what’s happened to Hunter Killer and his soldiers
>And you feel a mix of hope and dread, glancing at Anon as he lies down to rest
>He watches as you scrape sunroot resin into a mortar and beat the spring water into it
>Something very curious happens
>To your astonishment, as the paste forms, it begins to glow, weakly at first
>Soon it is shining bright red, and emitting a dull hum
>“Is it supposed to do that?” Anon asks
>“Well…” you say.  “No.”
>The hum becomes a whine, and the mortar suddenly begins to clatter against your hoof
>Not a good sign
>With all your might, you hurl the mortar far away from you
>It thuds into the ground some distance away
>There is a flash of white light, a roar, and a great explosion of flame
>You hiss, blinded
>You faintly hear Anon shouting
>When you can see again, you look up to see fire on the shore, in the grass
>Anon is frantically trying to stomp it out
>A lone tree burns, its lower half immolated
>You rush over, and together the two of you manage to control the blaze
>As smoke rises in a thick cloud overhead, you are left staring at the bottle of resin
>You have no idea what just happened
>But you have a feeling that you’ve just made a very important discovery