There was an orb of light illuminating the garden. It pulsed softly, and wavered as the cries resounded from its core. Slowly, Winterwoods approached the orb. It was as big around as her head, and it floated softly about her prized roses.
“What is that thing?” Winterwoods asked.
The raven hopped from her back and onto her head, examining the little ball of light. “I think it might be a wisp. If it’s here, it is for a reason. My mother would say that wisps came to those in need.” Winterwoods chanced a few steps closer.
“Is there something you’re here to show me?” As she spoke the wisp steadied itself, and Winterwoods felt as though it was looking directly at her. The weeping sounds began again, but this time it no longer looped the sorrowful wails.
“Oh my dear sister… How can I have been so blind?” the ball cried. “How can I have done this to you? Why? Why couldn’t I see past my own pride?! You suffered so much by my own hoof, this punishment should be mine, not yours! My dear, sweet sister, I’m so, so sorry! I regret every moment I turned you away! I regret belittling your ideas, your thoughts, your precious heart!” The ball bobbed in the air as the voice became more sorrowful.
“If I could give up everything to make things right, I would. If I could take on your suffering, and lift it from your heart, I wouldn’t think twice. I beg you, please forgive me. Every year to come, you have my sorrow, you will hear my pleas for forgiveness though I know I don’t deserve it. Every moment of every day of every year, I will be sending my love to you. The love you shouldn’t have had to beg for only to never receive.” The orb began to fade as the words echoed through the garden. "Dearest sister, do not let my foolish ego and your anger consume you. Please, let me help you!"
“What on earth was that supposed to mean?” Winterwoods blinked. “How was that supposed to help?” She turned to the raven, her eyes begging for answers.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.” The raven cawed. “Perhaps the only way to find out is to go back to the woods.” With a shudder, Winterwoods turned towards the treeline.
“Ugh.” She groaned. But with a sigh, she began walking towards the forest once again. The raven returned to the wood block to wait, shouting encouragement from afar. She ignored him though; no amount of encouragement would help when a pony doesn't even know what they're about to do. As she approached the forest, she could see that the trees were fewer in number than before. She walked the path into the woods and the further she travelled, the more regimented the trees became. Soon the trees were in perfect rows, grim sentinels that seemed to stare as she was drawn deeper and deeper into the heart of the grove.
The path ended shortly this time, opening itself up into a clearing. The fog had lifted and there was barely even a low mist in the clearing. Winterwoods could see to the far end of the clearing. There were some small structures not too far up ahead, and a lone figure amidst them. The place felt so quiet and so tense that Winterwoods could hear the beat of her heart and the soft sounds of the mist swirling against the grass.
The closer she got, Winterwoods became aware that she was approaching a large graveyard. The figure stood in the center, hunched and shaking. She could hear soft cries emerging from the dark figure. The ground became frosty as she approached it. As she passed them by, she read the tombstones. Rather than names, there were dates marked on every one. A single date, as though marking important events.
The graveyard was so calm and quiet, every step she took on the frosted grass pounded down like it weighed a ton, and every breath she took resounded like a storm blowing by. After walking for what felt like ages, she reached the figure. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that this was the ‘monster’ that had been tormenting her throughout this night.
Its soft cries were echos of the orb she’d seen not long before, and teardrops fell to the ground from the creature’s empty face. A brief moment of inspiration overwhelmed Winterwoods, and she came to the realization that this creature manifested itself based upon the events that lay at rest in the graveyard. To her own surprise, and disgust, Winterwoods mustered up the strength to come closer to the thing. She gently touched its shoulder and spoke.
“Do you need someone to help you?” she asked. The creature went stiff and turned towards her, the dripping sound ebbing into the corners of her hearing. “Stop... I’m not afraid of you anymore. I've come too far to be turned back this time.” Winterwoods said plainly. “I don’t know what you are, or who you were, but I will help you if you let me… Please, let me help you.” She lowered her hoof from its shoulder and it stood very still for a long time. The dripping faded completely, and the figure tilted its head, as though bewildered.
It raised a single foreleg and pointed beyond where it stood at the head of the graveyard. With an understanding nod, Winterwoods followed the path. As she progressed, the tombstones grew bigger and more elaborate, until they became as a forest of evenly spaced trees carved from stone, each one larger and grander than the last. The path became cobbled, the rustle of soft grass beneath her giving way to the sharp clack of hooves on stone. It opened up into a grove, in the center of which grew a single flower the likes of which Winterwoods had never seen before.
She approached the flower, and observed with wonder its mysterious aura. It looked like a hybrid between a rose and a lily. It was pale blue, right down to the leaves and stem, and it grew in a single flower up from the ground. Little orbs of light surrounded it in a magical white glow. To her sensitive nose, Winterwoods knew immediately that this was the source of the sweet scent that first tantalized her, and drew her into leaving her home. Around the flower was an arrangement of three large stones, each one carefully engraved.
The first read:
“Behold the Heart of Sorrow, the rarest flower to ever bloom. When a pony has suffered greatly, it plants the seed of this precious bud. It exists only within this realm between sleeping and awake, and it grows for the sole purpose that the pony who has suffered so may be granted peace, at last.”
The second read:
“You who have reached this place, have a heart close in spirit to the sufferer. You are connected to them through the magic that binds all things together. If you wish, you may pick this flower. But should you pluck this bud, do so knowing that you will take on all the pain that the sufferer has carried.”
The third read:
“Should you do this, your life will change. You will know this pony better than any other. For a few moments, you will carry the weight of their pain. It will then be lifted from you both. That is the true sacrificial gift of the heart.”
Winterwoods stared down at the flower, and glanced back up to the stones. Her tired eyes settled again on the beautiful flower. With a single tear rolling down her cheek, she knelt and gently gripped the stem and pulled. The flower pulled up with ease and glowed even brighter as Winterwoods rose back onto her feet.
The magical aura around the flower pulsed and grew. It lifted itself from her grasp, and brought Winterwoods floating up alongside it. She flailed in the air and squirmed to be put back down, but the flower had her completely in its grasp. She was lifted more than ten feet in the air before the flower grew intensely bright. The last thing she heard was the voice she remembered raging many times before, but it was calmed and sorrowful.
"Please forgive me." it whispered.
In the distance, the creature watched as the pony was raised into the air. Motionless it stood as the lone watcher while the flower darted suddenly through the air and pierced through the pony’s heart. Her scream and a last pulse of magic immersed the wood in light, the monster faded, the metal helmet evaporating in a scream of steam, and all the creatures of the deep wood awoke right as the dawn broke out across the land.
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out, and was long before dawn she guessed. Her room was silent and still… But then the door opened, showering a bright light into the room. Winterwoods shielded her eyes.
“Ah! Thank goodness you’re awake!” came a gentle male voice. The sound of hoofsteps trotting on the floor perked Winterwood’s ears up. “We weren’t sure if you were ever going to wake up! Thank Celestia you’re with us again.” The voice cheered on and suddenly the room was filled with light. “There, with these curtains open, you should be able to see. Oops! Sorry if it’s a little bright just yet.”
Winterwoods blinked and rubbed her eyes as they adjusted, taking in her surroundings. This wasn’t her room. It was a hospital room. There were flowers and cards and small gifts on a table beside the bed she lay on, and the chipper face of a doctor smiled down at her.
“Wha-what happened?” she asked.
“I don’t rightly know. Nopony does exactly. An old farmer and his wife brought you in when they found you alongside a road. Said a raven, of all things, harassed them and took off with the good mare’s hat. They chased after it a short distance, and it led them right to you. Strange, to say the least.” The doctor explained and went about checking her blood pressure and a few other simple tests. “Your friends will be happy to know you’ve woken up. They stayed here with you for the first few days until work made them leave. Said they’d be back this afternoon though.”
“Wait, did you say days? How long was I asleep for?” Winterwoods gaped.
“You were out for about a week actually. Awful, fitful sleeping, like you were being attacked. We ran numerous tests, but we couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you. What exactly do you remember?” the doctor asked.
“Dreams, at least vaguely. Bad, bad dreams. Like they wouldn’t end.” Winterwoods lowered her eyes.
“Nothing about how you may have ended up this way? Or how you ended up on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere?” pressed the doctor.
“Nothing.” She whispered.
“Ah. Well, how about we get some food in you then? What matters is that you’re healthy and awake. We may keep you for a few more days for tests, but if you’re good by then, you’ll be on your way home!” The doctor comforted her and set about his work.