//------------------------------//
// Érōs Redux 
// Story: Crystalline Dreams 
// by Ice Star 
//------------------------------//

Darkness swarmed all my senses, when I felt that they were there at all. My own senses were robbed from me at intervals, and I felt as though my very solid presence, and my whole ebbing was snatched away. It hurt, as well. This was not blowing out a candle only to re-light it, or simply scooping me from Cadance's dreamscape. I had been robbed from it, and I from me. In an instant, all had vanished, and was sundered. I only felt sore and frightened, wanting to curl up or to heal myself. I could not breathe, I could not see, and I knew not that I was there... only that I was still there, just stuck.

Being plunged into non-being was painful, and it did not come with the feeling of dissolution or any gradual disappearance. I was just ripped away. There were no more firefly lights and shades of blue. Cold winds did not beckon me to flight any longer. It just wasn't cold, and it wasn't very warm either.

It wasn't.

All I knew was my awareness when the world was violently shut off, and Cadance had just vanished. In the darkness, I thought I heard something. A voice, maybe. And it called my name, or rather, it screamed it in confusion... and fear. The voice was a mare's, if it was there at all. I felt something like sickness, mentally still reeling at how abrupt this was and what could possibly be happening, and why and—

Then, the world resumed.



...



I stood on shaking legs as the world swam back into vision. My stomach found my body again. I wish to say that I heaved out a breath, but that would still give me some odd elegance in what I did. And what did I do? I took in the air as though there would be no more ever again. Yet, I tried this at the same time I was feeling my sides crushed horribly by knowing myself again. That left me trying to cough up something that was not within me. I made quite the horrific sound, and felt every gruesome movement of it. With my proper state returned to me — though, I was returned no less forcibly than I was taken — I was overcome with dizziness.

And then I realized that Cadance must be going through worse.

Cadance. Her name lanced my thoughts with an iciness that swept through this awfulness.

I unfurled my wings, and found them to be a blessed sight in this time. I stretched my legs with as much haste as I could afford, and flexed my wings. I was lucky to have no injuries, but to rush into flight in my state could 'fix' that. Energy borne from fear was quick to warm my blood. My head, however, was light and aching all at once while I tried to collect all that had happened. What had that been? And why might it have happened? Such questions rippled into my thoughts as quickly as my mane flowed.

I took to the dreamscape with bold, swift movements, and my flight surer than I expected. Currently, my mind wandered for solutions, and my eyes roamed for Cadance. Dreams did not disable themselves. Like improper spells, they could be interrupted and fizzled, but to be more than crudely cut off like that? I knew of no such thing, and now that the world had returned to me, I found it was not nearly as brilliant as before. When a dreamer wakes abruptly, this does not happen. And that is what I might have guessed this to be, had there been the correct outcome. A quick waking was like popping a bubble.

This was not unnatural, nor an intrusion, merely unknown to me. I knew that much, and I was still burning with worry.

But below me, I found Cadance standing alone among the fog of her sleep all alone.



...



I was quick to join her, and landed fast. I was still tucking my wings to my sides when I spoke to her.

"Are you well?" I asked, taking in the sight of her rapidly. 

She breathed audibly, but did not struggle to do so. Her eyes were wide and ghostly, and she was eerily lucid. Cadance nodded with slow motions that I would have called puppetted if I had not known she was free, for that was how it looked. She had remained poised quite vigilantly, though I noted a slight sway to her whole body, causing her curls to tremble just so.

"'m fine, Luna." She swallows like she is parched. "Whawasat?"

I bit into my lip, feeling worry fester in my stomach. "Dizzy?" I asked her softly. 

She nodded, and to my relief looked much better. "Oh yah, yah. So... what weird sleepy time stuff wassat?"

Her speech is still a touch slurred...

"I do not know, Cady. Why don't you sit down for a spell and rest?"

Cady frowned with all the maturity of a little filly refused her favorite sweets. "I'm not that old."

"I recall having no gray hairs in my mane and you have plenty."

Cadance was quick to laugh again, and sat with ease. She had folded her wings neatly, and hummed pleasantly as she arranged herself, until the moment she simply didn't. That was when the haze of confusion was apparent in her eyes, and she tilted her head far, far back to look at something. Her mouth was open to speak, something she never did, and nothing was clearer to me than other than how dumbfounded she looked.

I follow her gesture and tilt my head back gracefully, letting my mane spill with my movements.

And my heart drops.

"Is that dangerous?" Cadance asks delicately, and yet far too calmly for my liking. Each word of hers urges that nasty cold feeling that has burst into being in my stomach to grip it tightly, and to make all the winds of this place unwelcome.

Above us is a dark gap that mingles with the other colors of Cady's dream realm. It blurs the beautiful blues and feeds into the rich hues at a painfully slow pace, and it does appear to stop at times. This thing does not see my wide-eyed stare, and it still tarried. Were it alive I would think that it was unsure of how it desired to act, and what next to claim.

The growing void slowly going to consume Cadance's dream.

Horrified, I looked back to Cadance, my expression clear with my new understanding of the situation. 

"Cadance," I whispered fearfully, "this is extremely dangerous—"

"Why?" she cut in, toying with her curls in confusion. "What's happening?"

"I..." My voice falters with the sudden tightness of my throat and I know tears I could feel in the corner of my eyes. "I think you just had a stroke."

Cadance cocks her head to the side so that she can more easily look at the advancing darkness again, and how still everything near it seemed. "Luna—"

"Don't tell me that this time is different!" I snapped at her, feeling a few tears fall down my muzzle. My voice is hoarse with emotion and my whole body is shaking with every word, while my mane ripples with agitation. "That never made it any easier, for everypony back in Canterlot to know that you were in the hospital—"

Hospital.

Cadance isn't in the hospital this time.

She is asleep.

In her bed.

All alone.

"Cadance..." Her name slips from my parched throat involuntarily, and I cannot hide how desperate I sound. "Cadance, you lie asleep and there is nopony—"

I take an uneasy breath and worry finally shows on Cadance's face. "I can wake up right now. You will not go unaided if I teleport quickly enough, or send a message to your staff—"

"Luna," Cadance says firmly, using her magic to clamp my muzzle shut. "Luna, I love you, but please..."

Cadance swallows. She had said 'please' with an almost unbearable fragility and has a terrible calm to her that upsets my stomach.

"Maybe we're overestimating this," she says, and I find those words so foolish that if my muzzle were not held shut I would protest them quickly. "Are you even sure that I had a stroke?"

With her magic still around my muzzle and keeping my jaw in place, I can only shake my head with uncertainty and look at Cady with tear stains on my face. I do want to use my power and overwhelm her. I want to shake her off and tackle her to the ground. I never regretted teaching Cadance the few dream manipulations she would be able to manage, but if this is where it leads... then maybe I do.

"What does it mean, then?" Cadance asked, her voice delicate and quiet. 

"I fear that if this were some abrasion of the flesh you would be mortally wounded." I could not swallow easily after I said those words. Cadance watched me choke with damp eyes and an almost motherly look, one I never had directed at me before.

Cadance had often run to me for such things. Rarely was it ever like this. 

Oh, even this dream felt like it was smothering me.

Soon, Cadance had one of my forehooves gripped in hers. "Luna, is that spot... an injury?"

"I-I... Cady, I did say mor..." Confound my words, for they felt stuck in my shaking body and sticking in my throat when I wanted them free. "Mortally wounded," I managed, and despite all difficulty, the words were still ominous. 

One gentle forehoof came to rest on my wither. "And this might be different if I woke up?"

I nod solemnly and try to focus on the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Tracing my tongue on the roof of my mouth is not helping me figure out what to say next, though I wish it would. There is still a horrible, constricted feeling in my throat.

"Luna, what would happen to you if I didn't wake up?"

"I would rouse," I manage, my voice still hoarse with emotion, "and you would be gone."

Cadance looks at me with a careful, sad look that I have never seen on her before. My stomach feels like it has caved in on itself, for I quickly discern what it means. 

"Cady, you aren't—"

She moves down to hold one of my forehooves in hers again. "Luna," she says my name with a weight that is supposed to steady me and pull all my emotions in check, "what have I told you about love?"

"So much," I blurt, letting the words spill from my mouth and my heartbeat continue to assault my ears. "So much," I whisper again because my throat feels like it might swell shut. I can feel new tears swimming in my eyes, but I do not want to blink. My own voice sounds much too close to me, and with assurance, that I did not know was in my tone. That made me think I wanted to catch something with my words, and yet I do not think I did.

"What are some of the things I've told you?"

I think she might be asking me because she does not recall all her centuries of truths herself, though she has authored numerous things on matters of the heart and relationships. I allow myself to skim through my memories like a reader in a hurry. Through the haze of tears, I find a few familiar ones that I manage to croak back to her, and watch Cadance nod with the seriousness of an Empress to each one.

"Love can take time," I tell her, and grip her hoof tighter as I watch the first of her metronome-like nods.

"Love always has reasons," I say, but what should have been one of the most confident and true things to come out of my mouth tonight is soft and awkward instead, "and it is not always right or wise. Love is not all sacrifices, for anything built on sacrifices cannot be sustained. Love must sustain and be kindled actively. Love is only for those who are willing to love in return. Love is not to spent, for to spend oneself and one's whole life on another is to waste it. Love is priceless. Love may be warmed more with pride than dimming itself."

Cadance winces faintly, and I know she must be recalling some failed endeavor. Perhaps one of the nastier divorces she had to oversee, or how she had to create and uphold many laws over the years. She had to be absolute in ensuring her Empire powered by love did not have its power source upset or its citizens endangered because of the fickleness of some. That meant the harshest punishments were for perversions, abuses, and deeds that bred distrust or degeneracy. It was in my travels to the Empire over the years that I would watch things abhorred with a strength that wasn't present with such an intensity anywhere else, and it was fascinating.

But Cadance was still so mortal, and my heart was breaking over this. She has always been happy, yet rulership thrust her into seeing the inevitable terrible sides to mortals too. We who wear a crown all have, and few are so foolish to ever insist ponies are good little creatures. Such a thing would be unwise. But Cadance still loves them, and perhaps a bit too sensitively at times. I think she acquired some of that folly from my sister, for Tia always favored the illusion of idealism over truth.

When I want so badly to search my mind for more of her words, for they were always beyond mere platitudes. Much to my panic, I found nothing.

Nothing.

I felt even more ill at the thought.

"You have a chance to love like immortals do, silly."

Silly.

This doesn't feel silly.

In a gesture of unintended carelessness, I squeezed her hoof far too tightly and Cadance yelped. The sound is enough to make me start sobbing again. Even when Cadance guides me into a hug, I hurt all over. My chest, my throat, and my legs, which are shaking, are all bearing this and it is a terrible mist in my thoughts.

I just want to hold Cadance in the waking world. No matter how desperately I hold her here it is not enough.

"Luna," she says all-too-calmly, "I don't think I want to wake up."

Why did she have to say that in a mother's gentle whisper?

I shove her away and look at her sharply. "Do you really want this?" I ask her, keeping no cold intensity from my voice. "Cadance, how could you be sure?"

"Please," Cadance says kindly, a soft, faintly pleading look in her eyes, "I want this. You have offered to take all the respectful measures to help me, and I am telling you now to let me go."

I may have done everything within my power and the boundary of ethics to help Cadance, but I still cannot refrain from asking her: "Why...?"

"If this is the end, I don't mind." Only her eyes betray her; there is a foal-like timidity that her sure words do not have.

I feel cold. The thought of not seeing Cadance again is so obvious a wound. I will see her legacy for ages and ages to come, and I know it will be a virtuous one. This mare who stands before me appearing near-luminescent and youthful is mortal — and she is old, tired, and happy.

She loves music. She loves song. She is funny and chipper. She used to snort when she laughed. Even after her daughter was born, she still found delight in slumber parties. She used to sneakily read beauty tip sections in magazines even as an Empress. She loved almost everypony. Cadance has been the most vehement critic of young adult novels I have ever known, and listens to all the stories I have ever shared with her. She cannot fathom Tribal Era divisions, and she has quietly listened to my corrections of her innocent misconceptions.

Cadance has learned the hard way about the difficulties of styling Alicorn manes. She has called me a friend, family, cousin, aunt, and more. I had my first ketchup chips with her, my first modern sleepover, my first attempt at 'mare-talk', and she has supported me endlessly as a friend. From introducing me to my future husband, being supportive in all she can, to being the officiant at my wedding, and later, my trusted foalsitter for my own daughter. We have shared more laughter than tears, and she has nudged me through insecurities to the best of her ability. None of this robs this encounter from the flood of bittersweet feelings that absolutely overwhelm me. My emotions run high and brew like a tempest, while my tears well up again, falling down my muzzle in warm, salty rivulets.

"Aww, Luna," Cadance sniffles, "Please don't cry again, or I will too."

She is already on the verge of tears herself, and I watch the mare who I saw grow from a clumsy princess in the shadow of the sun to an esteemed empress shed a few tears alongside me.

"You really want this?" I ask her when my weeping has lessened.

"I want to see Shining again," Cadance says softly, her tail swishing in anticipation. I watch her sigh and look toward the darkness with a wistful readiness.

Eventually, I looked back with her, and looked quietly on. The unnatural winds of this place had returned, and blew both our manes toward such hungry shadows.

With careful steps, I made my way toward Cady and nuzzled her cheek. "Shall this be all before you go, then?"

Cadance whips her head back to me, her curls flying with the movement and settling around her in disarray. Her wings fidget with clear unease, and she looks at me, and I can't help but be astonished by how crestfallen she looks.

"You're letting me go?" Her voice is so fragile that I think I can nearly hear the fissures in it, and every hint of insecure imperfection.

"Is there really anything else that can be done now?"

She swallows delicately, and now I know that she is aware that my heart is breaking. "Luna? You know I love ya, right? And I'm going to miss you, my 'uncle', my cousin, and everypony..." She shakes her head, startled by her own thoughts, for her eyes widen. "Tell Twily I love her, too—"

I bite my lip and take a moment to listen to my heart's hammering before flinging my forelegs around Cadance's neck. She coughs loudly and whinnies in surprise, and I squeeze the poor mare's neck tighter. For a mare as talkative as Cady, she has little in the way of words to offer me now.

And I accept that.

Through another round of tears, I do tell her farewells and the things she has meant to me. Every other syllable is largely muffled by her coat. I feel my whole body tremble with every reminder that she has been a friend, a matchmaker, and a true companion for me. Without dear Cady, the world will have one less individual in a sea of ponies. An irreplaceable light would be extinguished, and one less vivid, exciting being would be found, for I knew Cady was one who I would never find another like. As much of a blessing as immortality is, encountering these wonderful individuals and losing them was deeply wounding and rewarding. To pull a unique treasure from an identical school of fish every now and then was always something I could savor.

I felt as much of her pink, pink coat as I could, and heard myself mumble into that coat again. My voice was muffled, but we both heard the end of it: "'bye."

Cadance's warmth was brief. She was careful about how she slipped from my embrace. I did not feel the heat of her tear-dampened cheek any longer. Any minor chidings for missing such a detail were drowned in the rush of emotions I had been feeling.

I did not have to look far. Cadance stood waiting at the edge of her last dream. Death was in the distance, dark and calm, and Cadance was a blot of light with a windswept mane where even the light died quietly. I perked my ears forwards because I heard her singing. Her voice was clear, and I heard it catch on a few words as one would stumble with their hooves, but she sang on. I saw her take one step closer to the shadows. And then, I watched all the rest that came after, refusing to blink away my silent tears even when I saw her no more. I waited until there was little color left in this place, save for me. I glided alone when there was nothing left to stand upon.

I knew I was alone when her song stopped.