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// Interlude: Dreams of Destiny 
// Story: Rekindled Embers 
// by applezombi 
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Interlude: Dreams of Destiny


Emberglow was not the only pony that night who dreamed of the mare in the moon.  There were four others.

A pony, far to the north in a small, snow-covered kingdom hidden behind a magical barrier created by the Empress, also dreamed of drowning in an ocean of tears beneath a silver crescent moon.  She too awoke with a startled scream.  But hearing the weeping mare, seeing her distress and anxiety, filled the young pony with purpose and inspiration.  She went running into her father’s room, shouting excitedly about her destiny and her purpose.  Her father tried to be excited for her self-discovery, despite the fact that she had burst into his room shouting in the middle of the night.

A pegasus stallion, living far across the sea in Zebrica, also dreamed.  He had traveled thousands of miles from his home to train, giving everything he had in order to serve and protect the stallion he loved.  He had seen the pain in the unicorn’s eyes, and would do anything to ease that hurt.  It was the same exhausted, heartbroken look he saw in the eyes of the mare in the moon.  The dream left him unsettled; it was too real, somehow, to be ignored.  He woke in the middle of the night, lighting the tiny flashlight that was his only source of light in this Zebrican military camp.  He shined the light on his journal, and began to write out the details of the dream.

A unicorn, living deep under a mountain in a hidden city, also dreamed of the mare.  He was used to nightmares; they were like an old enemy, always dogging his steps and chasing his restless nights.  He discounted the nocturnal vision, however, rolling over in his sleep, mumbling.  “Leave me alone, Luna.  You too, Celestia.  You’re dead, remember?  I’m doing the best I can, so don’t pester me.”  He never even opened his oddly colored eyes.

Last of all was an earth pony, a heartbroken teenager.  He couldn’t even understand why, but looking up at the weeping moon, he felt a kinship with her.  He too wanted to cry enough tears to drown himself with.  But something about the soft desperation in her voice humbled him, and gave him perspective.  He longed to reach out, to comfort her, to solve whatever issues had her sobbing.  “You’re stronger than this,” he told himself.  “You’re a Knight.  Well, almost.  Whatever hurt you have can’t be as bad as what’s making her cry.”

And deep underground, underneath the ruins of a long dead city, a pony slept, locked away by ancient magic, kept safe encircled by the roots of a primordial tree.