//------------------------------//
// 1. The Six-Pointed Star 
// Story: Faultlines 
// by FawkesThePhoney 
//------------------------------//

 	
“Good day students,” the pony at the front of the class said. “I trust everyone’s off day was pleasant.” There were nods and affirmations throughout the hall. “Good, good. Now, today we will begin our fourth and final segment of the semester: Theories of Cestel.”
She pushed her lecture desk out of the way and rolled an overhead projector to the middle of the room. The lighter sparked as she lit the view flame. “Now,” she said, closing the blinds so that only the light from the projector lit the wall. “Who can tell me what, exactly, Cestel is?”
A lavender unicorn raised her hoof. “Yes? Eden?”
“Cestel is a large light producing body that hovers above the planet, ma'am. We do not know much else.”
“That’s correct, Eden. We do, in fact, know a great deal about Cestel, but what we do know is dwarfed by what we don’t. Different breeds will call it different things. ‘The Sun' is most commonly preferred in stronger academic discourse, but I will accept names including Lumen, Telu, and Vox. ‘Cestel’ is the most common term used here in the Twin Cities region, however.” She placed a slide onto the projector. It flashed a diagram on the screen of Cestel floating in relation to the earth. “Cestel is ‘anchored’ – although we are unsure of the exact means – to a spot approximately four thousand miles north of here, called the subsolar region. It, and the corresponding antisolar region on the opposite side of the planet, are considered the most inhospitable places on earth.”
A lavender unicorn raised her hoof.
“Yes?” the professor said, “Eden?”
“What is the subsolar region like?”
”Well, Eden, that is a difficult question to answer, since the process of getting there is almost as dangerous as the region itself. First, you would need to travel to Prospolis, no mean feat on its own, considering the lack of viable routes. From there, you would have to venture into the scablands proper, and get around whatever is causing them to flee into our lands. There, our records become sketchy at best, but we know that the scablands become progressively warmer as Cestel rises in the sky above you. And then you reach Tempest.
“Tempest is the great guardian of the subsolar region. A monstrous storm, over one thousand miles in radius, covering the entire top of the world. Tempest swirls around the subsolar region, but once a certain latitude is reached, the air becomes too hot for water to remain liquid, and it is boiled away. The world you would reach if you braved Tempest is a desert, of sorts. The dirt, all organic life and water, blasted away. Cestel high in the sky, watching you as every fragment of your being was boiled away. And there… well, who knows? The subsolar region has never been seen.” 
There was a moment of silence as the students digested her words. A lavender unicorn raised her hoof.
“Just a minute, Eden,” the professor said. “The subsolar region is a bit outside of our jurisdiction. This class involves theories of Cestel, of which there are very few. We will begin with the ancient Ponecians, who worshipped Cestel as a goddess. From there, we will talk about medieval theories of light and the gradual Sagittarian shift to lunar worship. Then, at the dawn of the scientific revolution, we will understand the concept of ‘anchoring’ and will cover several current models, from Cranial’s ‘Pool-Ball’ concept to the more eccentric ‘grounded orbit’ theory—“
There was a tapping on the door. The unicorn trailed off, turning. Outside, a Carmargue unicorn with a fiery red and orange mane was looking at her, tapping on the glass impatiently. “Excuse me, class,” the unicorn said, turning towards the door. “Yes? Come in.”
“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” the unicorn said, her face flushed. “I’m with the dean’s office. I need to talk to one of your students. It’s about her grades.”
“Is that so?” the professor asked. Somewhere in the lecture hall, a unicorn began to squirm. “What student?”
“Evenstar Boral, ma’am.”
The squirming intensified. The professor looked back to the room, where a lavender unicorn was doing her best to look inconspicuous. “Ah, Eden? This pony would like to speak with you.”
The unicorn jumped. “I’m sure she would,” the pony, Eden, ground out. “I’ll only be a moment.” She walked as quickly as she could to the door, ignoring the stares of her classmates. She left the room and glared at the unicorn, who was doing her best not to crack up. “For the love of Cestel, Sage! What are you doing?”
“Oh man,” Sage said, grinning at her frustrated friend like a loon. “You should have seen the look on your teacher’s face. ‘The Dean needs you.’ That was priceless!”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“I’ll get there when I get there,” Sage said, waving a hoof in the air. “But that’s not important. Guess what I’ve got!”
“Some kind of anti-authority disorder?”
“No. Well, maybe. But no.” Sage said. She reached into her bag and pulled out two tickets. “Tickets to the exhibit on the pre-Marks!”
Eden stared at the tickets. “You’re joking,” she said.
“Hay no I’m not!” Sage said. Eden snatched the tickets from her.
“These are real,” she said, examining them from every angle, “oh my gosh, how did you get them?”
“I know a guy who knows a guy,” Sage said, waving a hoof.
“Actually, though.”
“My uncle works as a custodian at the center where they’re having it. He was able to get me tickets. And since you’re such a big fan…”
“Oh man oh man oh man,” Eden said. “This is so great! I can’t wait until… wait, was that all you wanted to tell me?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Ugh.” Eden ran a hoof over her face. “Get to class, Sage. We’ll talk later. Drinks?”
“Sure thing. Tap’s place?”
“You know it.” 
“Good stuff.” Sage reached out a hoof and bumped it with Eden’s. She walked down the hall, swishing her tail as she went. 
Eden stood there a moment watching her friend until she went out of sight. She knew that she should go back in as soon as possible. She knew that there was probably going to be a test on the material being covered inside right now. She knew all of this, and she didn’t care.
“The pre-Marks!” she whisper-shouted, clapping her front hooves together. “Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!”
After a few minutes, she had composed herself enough to return to the classroom. Even then, however, as the professor droned on about solar calendars and god empresses of legend, Eden couldn’t bring herself to concentrate. She kept her eyes on the clock, watching as the hour ticked away. When the bell finally rung, she grabbed her bags and dashed out the door. She walked out of the building, standing on the top of the landing, cold wind washing over her.
Eden had lived in Hub City her entire life, and yet sometimes the sky still took her breath away. The explosion of colors, reds and purples and oranges, all lanced across the sky towards the spot where Cestel hid, just beneath the horizon. It was a sight that many a poet and artist had tried to capture, and yet something about its majesty eluded them all. 
Of course, there were some ponies, such as her friend Sage, who seemed to brush it off completely.
“Quit looking at the sky,” Sage’s voice said, snapping Eden out of her reverie. She turned to see her friend walk up. “You’ve seen it a thousand times.” Sage’s hat was askew on her head, and Eden resisted the urge to straighten it.
“Well,” she said, “excuse me for communing with the sublime beauty of the cosmos.”
“You aren’t taking any modernist classes this semester,” Sage said, “so don’t pull that sort of language on me.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The philistine in red.” 
Sage rolled her eyes. “Let’s go,” she said. “We’re going to hit the bar at rush hour as it is.”
"I hear you," Eden said, holding the door open. The par walked out of the Astronomy building and out onto the main quad. Here, the students of the Celestial university were doing their best to lounge after classes, cold weather notwithstanding. Eden didn’t mind, however. She always thought that the spires looked better with snow on them.
She saw a few of their friends through the window of the café and waved. “Looks like Aries has returned from Ridgeback.”
“Hmm?” Sage said, glancing to where Eden was looking. A purple Sagittarian was inside, sipping a cup of something hot and reading a magazine. “Ah yes,” she said. “Reinstalled in his niche in the café, I see.”
“I wonder if the altitude gave him as much trouble as he thought it would,” Eden said.
“Well, it certainly hasn’t hurt his form.”
“…really?”
“What? I’m just saying. The stallion’s a hunk. You know it’s true.”
“Whatever.”
They crossed the quad and began walking down the steps in the front of the university. The Celestial was on a hill in the middle of the city. The upside was that it gave gorgeous views and was quite defensible; in fact some of the oldest buildings had once served as part of a fort. The downside….
“These steps never seem to get easier,” Sage muttered, her breath making fog in the chill air.
“Well, if you went to the gym with me once in a while…”
“Don’t lecture me. You know I don’t trust those things. Damn cud-chewing stallions dropping weights left and right.”
“You’ve just got to hit it when they’re not there; say third rotation or so.”
“But that’s when I’m asleep!”
“Only because your sleep schedule is shot.”
Halfway down the hill, they stopped and turned down a smaller side street. The as they left the main road, the houses became smaller and more cramped, and loomed over the road with ominous intent. After a small walk, they came into a small square. There, on the other side of the square, a sign hung above a brightly lit tavern. Eden could see that it was not cramped yet, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Looks like we beat the rush,” she said.
“Good thing, too,” Sage said. “You were so slow I thought Tap would close before we even got here.”
“Whatever.” Eden pushed the door open. Inside, a scrappy looking earth pony was polishing a glass. He looked up as they walked in.
"Ladies," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do you for?"
"Couple of Ivy Stock Ales, Tap," Sage said. Tap nodded and turned to the back. Eden cast her eyes about the bar. It never failed to impress her just how much seating Tap had managed to squeeze into the place. It was scarcely larger than her apartment, yet sported a full bar, three tables, and even a couple of booths. Most of the tables were filled. 
Tap slid two drinks down the bar. Eden took a sip, enjoying the bite of the fizz. She put the drink down. 
"So," Sage said. 
"So," Eden said.
"Yeah," Sage said. "How were your classes?"
"Not too bad," Eden said. "Started on Cestel in my Mechanics of the Sky class, pretty interesting. Spectrometry was also pretty good. We talked about the aurora. You?”
"Couple of shits tried to get wise to me in Systems of Power and Markets." She snorted. "They're done. Otherwise it wasn't a big day."
"'Get wise,' eh?" Eden grinned. "How so?”
“Didn’t like some red pony making better grades than them.”
Eden’s smile melted off her face. “Aww, hay, Sage. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m used to it by now. They aren’t even original. ‘You sure your red brain can take all of that learning? You’re lucky the Celestial feels bad for ponies like you. Get out of here while you’re ahead, let us blues take care of the intellect.’ As if they were even blue. You Sagittarians are all purple anyway.”
“Not true!” Eden said, sticking a lip out in a mock pout. “Some of us are indigo, or even violet. I have a cousin who’s on the periwinkle side of things as well.”
Sage fixed her a look. Eden's grin faded. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just trying to cheer you up."
"Yeah, well thanks." Sage scowled into her beer. "It's nothing. Ponies like that are always looking elsewhere to justify their inferiority."
They drank their beers in silence. Eden spied an approaching stallion, scarcely old enough to drink, from the look of him. He was eyeing Sage and looking away, doing a little dance in the middle of the floor. She knew what he was considering doing, and she sent out a silent plea for him to reconsider. No such luck. The stallion, gathering what nerves he had, walked up to the bar and sat down, right next to Sage. 
Sage glanced to the side and a predatory grin slid across her features. Eden suddenly felt like finishing her beer in a single gulp, and taking another.	
"I'll take a beer, please," the stallion said, casting a furtive glance at Sage. Eden watched him with pity. 
"Domestic?" Tap said, eyeing the newcomer with a twinkle in his eye. The colt nodded. Tap walked down to where the tap was and filled a mug. As he walked back, he whispered to Eden, "tell your friend that if she drives another of my paying customers away, I'm going to have to start charging her his drinks."
"He'll be fine," Eden said, taking a sip of her own beer, “It’s a… learning opportunity.” 
"Mmm." Tap moved away.
The colt cleared his throat. Sage whipped her head around to face him. "Can I help you?" she said, her voice sickly sweet. 
The colt jumped. "Um, yes," he said, casting his eyes about, "how's it going."
"Oh, you know," Sage said, waving a hoof about, "just trying to relax with my friend here after a long day at school, where my professor tore apart my thesis on how red ponies are still being used as disposable labor by the Hub City government in spite of so-called reforms, and all the while my mother isn't speaking to me again and thinks I'm some sort of harlot, and I’m having some seriously horrible nightmares that are keeping me from sleeping and making me spoil for a fight; and now some colt is trying to hit on me, and he’s picked the worst possible time, because the last thing I even want to think about right now is some crummy Sagittarian pickup line. You?"
"I, ah, um..." the stallion sputtered, looking left and right for help in vain. Tap gave a low chuckle.
"You're in for it now, kid," he said. 
"Well, um... do you... um... well..."
"Beat it," Sage said. The colt bounced off the chair as if repelled. Eden sighed and shook her head. 
"You could stand to be a little nicer, you know," she said.
"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Sage said, taking a dainty sip of her beer. 
"I hope you've got the cash to pay for that, Sage," Tap said as he eyed the abandoned beer. 
Sage sighed. "Here," she said, tossing a few coins onto the table. "Might as well enjoy my spoils." She slid the beer over to her and took a sip. "He doesn’t know a thing about beer. Yeesh."
Eden looked at her drink. “Were you serious about the nightmares?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Sage groaned and took another drink of the beer. “I mean, yeah, sort of.”
“How long have they been going on?”
“I don’t know. A cycle or so. It’s not a big deal.”
Eden shuffled in her seat. Sage looked at the table. 
“I heard you screaming in your sleep the other night,” Eden said.
“You heard…” Sage groaned. “Jeez, I’m sorry, Eden. Wake me up next time.”
“I tried.”
There was silence after that. Sage drank the last of her beer. “Tap, hit me again,” she said. Another drink slid down the table towards her. “Look, I’m really sorry, Eden. I don’t want to interfere with your sleep.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Eden said. “I’m worried about you. Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
“No, okay? It’s just some bad dreams.”
“What are they about?”
“I… I can’t remember,” Sage said, shuffling. “Come on, Eden, let’s talk about something else.”
Eden fixed her with a stare, but didn’t press the issue. “How’s your thesis coming along?”
From the look Sage gave her, Eden guessed that was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “What?” Eden said.
"Didn't you just hear? My advisor tore it up."
"But why?"
Sage shrugged. "It happens. I'm going to need to provide more data. He told me that since I'm red, ponies are going to be looking at this a lot harder than they otherwise would, and calling out the government is never easy at the best of times. Still, though..."
"Sounds like he's looking out for you, though."
"He's trying," Sage said, "but it's complicated. I know he's grilling me harder than he would a Sagittarian, and I know it's for the best, but... sometimes it's just a bit much."
Eden was silent. Sage shifted in her seat. “Let’s talk about something else. This stuff is depressing.”
“No kidding,” Eden said. Behind, she heard the door open and glanced behind her, wondering if it was one of the other regulars. 
A unicorn had entered the bar, a mint colored Dartmoor with a white stripe in her mane. She was holding the door open for two friends, laughing. Eden frowned. Something about her…
"Sage."
"Hmm?" Sage lifted her head from the drink and glanced to where Eden was looking. 
"That mare that just walked in. The Dartmoor. Does she look familiar to you?"
"Hmm," Sage said, squinting her eyes. The unicorn and her friends walked to a booth and sat down. "Nope. Afraid I don't know any of them. Why? Do you?"
"I… think so?" Eden said. "She looks really familiar but I can't place her."
"You have a class with her?”
"No way. Dartmoors are way too rare; I’ve only met like five of them at the school."
"A TA, perhaps?"
"No, don't think so. Maybe she's— oh shoot!" The mint mare in question had looked up and caught Eden's eye. For a moment, the smile on her face seemed frozen, then slowly turned to one of utter shock.
"Head down," Eden hissed. "She sees us!"
"So? She probably thinks you're checking her out."
"What? No! I'm not — ugh, why does it always have to be about pickup with you?"
"Well, maybe if you got yourself a date sometime, I wouldn't be so pushy."
"You're one to talk. The last stallion you were with, Brad, was it? That couldn't have lasted even a cycle."
"It's not my fault I have terrible taste."
"Oh, would you just—"
"Excuse me?" a new voice said. 
Eden whirled around. The mint unicorn was standing right next to her, a strange mix of wariness and incredulity on her face.
"Um, yes? Can I help you?"
The moment she opened her mouth, the unicorn grinned. "It is you," she said.
"Oh, you know her?" Sage said. "Good. It's been driving her nuts."
"I'm sorry," Eden said. "But I can't place you. Have we met?"
"If you're back," the unicorn said, "it means all of you must be back. I didn't believe, almost, but…" she gave a sort of helpless laugh. "Here you are!"
"Yes," Sage said. "Here she is. Are you going to say something real or just keep yammering to yourself?"
For the first time, the unicorn seemed to notice Sage. Eden watched as her expression went back to shock, then to the coldest hate Eden had ever seen. She actually scooted away from the unicorn as best she could.
"What are you doing here?" the unicorn whispered.
"Oh, you know," Sage said, with the faux casual tone that she used when she was mad but trying not to show it. "Just enjoying a drink after class with my best friend. How about you?"
The unicorn looked from Eden back to Sage, her expression of hate changing to a growing horror. "Here," she said quickly, turning her attention back to Eden. "Take this. It's not the best representation, but I didn't exactly expect you would be here."
"Who are you?" Eden said, backing up from the offered piece of paper. "What the hell is going on?"
"My name is Lyra," the unicorn said. "It's not safe to talk about this anymore here." Her eyes flicked back to Sage. "Just take the piece of paper and… and I'll see you later, okay?"
"Um…"
"Thank you," Lyra said, backing up again. "Read the paper. It's all on the paper. I'll explain everything later… Twilight."
"What did you call me?"
But Lyra had already left, walking to the door. The two friends she had come with looked at Eden then back at her friend, who had already left. They got up and followed.
“Well, that was fun,” Sage said. “Tap, you didn’t tell us the racists came in on Mondays.”
“Lyra has always been a model customer,” Tap said, frowning. “If she does that again I won’t be able to welcome her back.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Show ‘em, Tap,” Sage said. “What did she give you anyway, Eden?”
Eden barely acknowledged the question, her eyes on the napkin. On one side was the address for a coffee shop not too far from where they were, with directions and a time to meet. On the other side was a star. Eden blinked at it. It was a six pointed star, purple, darker than her coat, with five smaller stars floating around it. And something about it was calling to her. She felt that something very large and very heavy was flying just inches above her horn, but she could barely sense it. On the bottom of the napkin were two words.
“’Twilight Sparkle?’” Sage read over her shoulder. “What the hay does that mean?”
“I have no idea,” Eden said, slowly putting the napkin into her jacket. 
“Hmm,” Sage said. “Sounds like she’s trying to get you into a Ponzi scheme or something. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“I mean, I’m not going to meet her, Sage,” Eden said. “Not after what she said to you.”
“Well, don’t not go on my account,” Sage said. “She just seems creepy, if you ask me. Also, crazy.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Eden said. 
“Yeah, I’ll bet you would.” Their drinks clanged together and the conversation shifted to warmer places. By the time Eden and Sage returned to campus, both the symbol and the unicorn were far from her mind.
The dorm where the two of them lived was tucked away in a corner of the campus, far from the rowdy main drag. It had the curious tendency to slip past one’s vision without being noticed, perched as it was between the buildings on either side. Eden pushed the key into the lock and opened the door, Sage leaning heavily on her.
“Whoof,” Sage said, slamming down on the couch and grinning at Eden. “I could swear that those Ivy Stock ales are upping the alcohol content. I’m feeling the burn, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t drink five of them, you’d feel just fine,” Eden said, putting her coat on the rack by the door. 
The apartment was well maintained; small notes taped to cabinets and drawers indicating where everything was supposed to go. This was not for the hypothetical visitor’s aid, but rather for Sage; who Eden suspected moved things around just to amuse herself. She opened the cabinet and fixed her eyes on a bowl that had been placed in a spot clearly marked Plates. Her eye twitched.
She closed the door with more force than was necessary and turned instead to the pantry. There, she removed a bundle of carrots and walked back into the living room, enjoying the sweet flavor. Sage looked up from the couch.
“Carrot,” she grunted.
Eden tossed her one. Soon, both ponies munched in silence.
“I can’t believe you got tickets to the pre-Mark exhibit,” Eden said at last.
“Well, us Carmargues have connections, you know. How else did I get a scholarship?”
“Certainly not with your brilliant intellect.”
“You know us Carmargue are too slow to study at the Celestial otherwise!” Sage said. Eden swallowed her carrot and reached for another one. Apparently the day’s confrontation had stung deeper than Sage had let on.
“Just don’t let them get to you,” she said. 
“Easy for you to say,” Sage replied. “You get to be smart, and no one suspects you of anything. Usually.”
“Usually. But the world is full of assholes, as we both know full well. If you spend all your time getting mad at each and every one of them, well…” Eden shrugged. “It’s more effort than they deserve.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time I’m insulted.”
“Look, Sage,” Eden said. “I don’t know what you’re going through. But you are the smartest mare I know, and I don’t say that lightly. Keep your thesis up, keep leaving your classmates in the dust, and they’ll all see too, eventually.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t much care about their opinions, anyway,” Sage said. “But thanks.”
Eden offered her a small smile.
“Now I need to get off to bed,” Sage said. “All work and no sleep makes Sage a dull mare. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Eden said. “I’ll try and get some shuteye myself.” Sage nodded and left the room. Eden stayed on the couch for a little longer, eating the carrots and looking out the window at the red-streaked sky outside. The image that Lyra had drawn her came back to her mind. She fished around in her pocket and pulled out the napkin.
The star was still there, as was the nagging feeling that she was missing something. Eden held it up next to the window, covering the light with the napkin and then removing it.
“Stars and moons and suns,” she murmured. She stayed like that, frozen in place, before abruptly dropping the napkin and going to bed.

That night, she had a dream.
She was standing at the very top of a very high tower atop a mountain so high that she could see for miles and miles and miles. Above her, the sun shone high, but did not feel threatening or bright. It felt… nice. Below, in the city around the tower, ponies bustled from place to place, carrying carts, buying food, and chatting to one another. They were of all colors and races, and covered the city as a giant multicolored tapestry. 
Then the shadows on the ground began to grow. Darker at first, then outwards, stretching from pony to pony, over the fruit of the stalls and the streets. Where the shadows touched, food rotted, buildings crumbled, and the stones cracked and grew grey. 
Above the sun seemed to grow brighter; the air became warm, and the shadows were chased back into the nooks. Then, after a moment, they returned, resolute, creeping into the sunlight, banishing it. The ponies grew angry, they glared at each other and muttered, but the sun shone still brighter and for a moment the shadows faltered.
Eden could feel the heat now; her brow beaded with sweat. Below, the ponies could feel it too, but as they argued the shadows grew again, until they filled the streets and began to creep up the side of the tower. The sun shone brighter and brighter until the air simmered and Eden felt that she had never been so hot in her life. The shadows slowed, but continued, and now Eden could hear something else, whispering, the sounds of words but no actual words to say.
The sun grew brighter and brighter until, with a great roar, the town below erupted in flames. They grew higher, and now the heat came at Eden from above and below, and past the city, the forests burned and the plains burned and the very rocks themselves cracked and shook. The smoke from the town rose up and blocked the sun, and the shadows, now free, grew up and into the tower, the whispering breaking into laughter, thick and cloying as oil. Eden backed up from the window just as they plunged in, filling the room, dripping over paintings and furniture and books. It sensed her, she felt a presence turn towards her. With a final roar of triumph, the shadows pounced.

TWILIGHT!

A piercing scream made Eden shoot up in her bed. She looked wildly around, her blackout curtains dimming the room to utter darkness. She felt her heart beat in her chest. 
The scream came again, and Eden realized it was Sage. She bounded out of bed and into the hall, throwing Sage’s door open so that it slammed against the wall. “Sage!” she shouted. “Sage! It’s a dream! Wake up!”
But the other mare was beyond help. Tears ran down her face as she thrashed in her bed. “Nooooo,” she whimpered, “nooooo, it’s not true! I won’t do it! I won’t! Get out of my head!”
Eden ran to her and tried to shake her awake, but only got a hoof to the face for her trouble. Thinking fast, she ran out of the room and into the bathroom, where she filled a cup of water. She ran back into the room. “Sorry about this, Sage…” she whispered, and threw the water onto the thrashing mare. 
Sage sat bolt upright in bed and fixed Eden with the most chilling glare she had ever seen. It was not annoyance, or even anger. It was hate, cold, aching hate that flowed from her eyes in waves. In that moment, Eden felt that Sage wanted her dead.
She took a step back. “S-sage?”
Sage blinked, and the look faded, replaced by one of mounting horror. “Eden,” she said, drawing a great, shuddering breath. “What—what’s going on?” She shifted in the bed and the water squelched beneath her. “Ugh, why am I all wet? Oh no. I didn’t… I didn’t…”
“Relax,” Eden said. “I just had to pour water on you to wake up. You didn’t pee yourself or anything.”
“Oh man, really?”
“Yup. And I’m not even sorry about it.”
“Oh yeah?” Sage looked at Eden, and a sly grin crept across her face. “Then I’m not sorry about this!” She leapt up, taking her pillow and slamming the soggy article in Eden’s face. Eden went down with a surprised whomp, the water in the pillow soaking her face and mane in an instant.
“Ah, dammit, Sage! Now I’m going to have to dry off too.”
“Serves you right,” Sage said. “Pouring water on a sleeping mare like that.”
“Well, I guess you’re just fine then, if you can go right back to this snark.”
Sage’s smile faltered for a moment, then returned in force. “Get out of here, brainiac,” she said. “Dry off and get yourself some rest.”
“Sure thing. You gonna be okay?”
Sage rolled her eyes. “Yes, mom,” she said. “I’m fine, see? Just a dream, like you said.”
“Okay, then,” Eden said, getting off the bed. She walked to the door. “If there was something really wrong, you’d tell me, right Sage?”
“Hmm? Of course, Eden. You’re my best friend. Why would I keep secrets from you?”
“Well, okay then. You know my door’s always open.”
“Yeesh, I get it Eden. Go take a shower before the smell gets to your head.”
“Right. Bye,” Eden said, leaving. She went to close the door.
“Just, um, Eden? Do you mind keeping the door open? You know, because, um…”
“Yeah, sure,” Eden said, leaving the door open. She walked off to the bathroom to grab a towel. As she was drying off, an image of the six-pointed star flashed into her mind once again. She thought of Lyra and the strange elation on her face when they talked. Somewhere in her brain a connection struggled to be made, but it was not successful and Eden was soon asleep again.