To Twilight Sparkle,
Good news. I found Luna.
She's shaken, yes, but alive, and for the most part, she's still herself. I managed to track her down in the warehouse section, behind a series of hidden stockrooms and narrow aisles. It took me some time, but when I finally reached her, I could see that she was distant, like her mind wasn't fully present. She was stocking boxes, just like the rest of them, but her eyes—Twilight, her eyes were empty. She knew it was me, and for a brief moment, I saw recognition flash across her face, but then it was gone.
She didn't speak much at first. She said they wouldn't let her leave—not until she officially requested time off with a two-week notice. When I pressed her about what that meant, she was vague, as if she didn't even fully grasp what was happening. She just repeated, over and over, that she needed a two-week notice to leave. That was the rule. That was the only way out.
I tried to get more information, but every time I asked about anything related to escaping, she just gave me a distant look, like she was too tired to think about it. But I could still see her in there, Twilight. She's still Luna, though I fear she's being slowly swallowed by the madness of the place. Something's off, something that I can't put my hoof on, but the air is thick with it. The walls of the store press in on her, on all of us, and I feel it too—the weight of it.
Luna did manage to tell me one thing, though: there's something beneath the store. She wasn't entirely clear, but I think she was referring to some kind of underground system. I'm not sure if it's some sort of maintenance tunnel or something much worse. What I do know is that whatever it is, it's been used before—by ponies who tried to escape.
But Luna is still holding on. She's just… waiting. She doesn't believe she can leave without the two-week notice, but she's wrong. I know she's wrong. I'll get her out. I'll find a way.
And Twilight…
I saw something that terrified me. While I was walking through the aisles, I stumbled upon something I wasn't meant to see—a stack of files behind the breakroom. When I went through them, I found records of "employees" who had been here for years—ponies who had disappeared without a trace. Their names were crossed out with a single word written next to each: "claimed."
I don't know what that means. I don't know who is behind all of this or how deep it goes, but I know that we're running out of time. I can't leave Luna here any longer.
I'll keep you updated. I'll keep looking. We'll get her out of this. I'm not losing her like this.
Trixie Lulamoon
Determined, Terrified, But Still Fighting