It grew late, and I found myself watching my Star sleep on the picnic blanket. I do not know when, but I had started to regard this activity as one of my favorite pastimes, a close second to talking with her. However, I had more pressing matters this night. I needed to discern what had been tormenting my pony in her sleep. I curled around her and cast the dreamwalker spell.
A door, with a familiar tree engraved on it, opened in my mind’s eye. I walked through the door to find myself in what my instinct informed me was the cavernous ribcage of a Mountain Beast. The few torches ensconced upon the wall offered little light, but my ears were pricked, and I heard the faint dripping of water in the background.
The sound of a singing filly struck me. It began softly but grew so faint that it became difficult to make out the phrases. I found myself walking toward the song, my hooves clambering on, separate from my conscious thought and moving on their own accord. As I stepped closer, the words became clearer.
“Midnight, not a sound from the stone.
“Has the moon lost her memory? She is smiling alone.”
I quickened my pace to a run, rushing carelessly toward the voice. Who was singing? If I could find whoever was singing, maybe, just maybe, Midnight could recover from her nightmare and find a restful night’s sleep.
“In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet.
“And the wind begins to moan.”
Closer. Closer. Closer I drew to the voice. But I walked aimlessly; the room echoed so that it became impossible to pinpoint whence the voice came. I slowed to a halt. I saw Midnight walking to the east side of the monster’s chest. For a moment, I was dumbfounded by her presence. I shook myself when I remembered that this was her dream. I moved to follow her.
“Memory, all alone in the moonlight.
“I can smile at the old days. I was beautiful then.”
The voice grew louder and clearer as I stalked Midnight. I hid in the shadows to avoid being caught trespassing in her dream. If my Star found out I was able to intrude upon her mind in her sleeping state, I would likely never regain her trust. This secrecy was the cost I bore for caring so much for her.
“I remember the time I knew what happiness was.
“Let the memory live again.
“Every streetlamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning.
“Someone mutters at the streetlamp gutters.
“And soon it will be morning.”
Midnight stopped, her eyes pointing to the filly but appearing completely glazed over. Walking up to her, I stopped when I noticed a coppery fluid pooling on the ground. I looked down to find my hooves covered in blood. Bile rose in my throat, but I just managed to keep it down. I turned back to Midnight. My eyes trained on the figure of my beloved as I moved behind her. She sat down.
“Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise.
“I must think of a new life, and I mustn't give in.
“When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory, too,
“And a new day will begin.”
I saw a little black and light-blue pegasus, covered in blood. The filly stood in front of a brutally mutilated corpse. I could barely determine the color of the pony’s coat even as I moved closer. I finally made out the color, and a section of light blue fur peeked out from the pony’s blood-soaked hide. I tried to study the body, but something caught my eye, and I cast my eyes toward the filly. I felt an overwhelming sense of bewilderment. A child alicorn stood before me! How could this be? And to whom was this filly singing? Or about whom?
“Burnt out ends of smoky days, the stale cold smell of morning.
“A street lamp dies, another night is over.
“Another day is dawning.”
“To whom are you singing, Cym?” I asked, kneeling beside the filly. It ignored me and continued its song.
“Touch me, it’s so easy to leave me,
“All alone with my memory of my days in the sun.
“If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is.
“Look a new day has begun.”
“That is a beautiful song,” I asked when it had finished. “Who was it for?”
Ice blue eyes pierced mine. The filly tilted its head and said, “Mom.”
“Who, Cym?” I gently coaxed. I lifted my wing and wrapped it around the bloodied filly. “Who is your mom?”
“Mom,” the filly said again.
I nodded. “Yes, dear child, and who is your mom?”
The filly turned its head and pointed with its tiny, blue-tipped black wing. “Mom.”
I cast my eyes to the corpse, and my heart broke. I got up and walked over to the alicorn’s mother, and my world shattered. The last thing I had expected to see were the empty amethyst eyes of my Star. Tears filled my eyes as I dropped to my knees with a cry. I felt a knife twisting itself in my heart as I wailed in misery. I barely heard the tiny clack of hooves coming up next to me.
“Why are you crying over my mommy?” the tiny voice asked. “Did you know her?”
“Y-yes,” I rasped. Fat tears fell despite my efforts to compose myself. “I know her. I love her, more than I love myself at times.”
“Then why didn’t you save her?” it cried. “If you love her, then why is she dead? Why am I dead?”
My heart stopped. Time stopped. The heartbreak in the filly’s eyes burned through me, and I knew I had never felt so helpless.
“She is alive. I am in her dream. How can she be dead if I am in her dream?”
“Dreamspell,” the young alicorn said simply. It tilted its head in confusion. “I cast this spell in hopes of communicating with my mom. I hoped that I could warn her. A demigod’s kid should be able to do that much, right?”
A demigod’s child?
“Do you know who your father was?” I asked, unsure myself of the answer to its question. It tilted its head in thought, then nodded.
“I know his voice,” it answered. The filly’s eyes widened in surprise and recognition. “If what you say is true and Mom is still alive, please save her! Please stop this from happening!”
Before I could answer, the filly began to fade into white. Midnight was waking up. No, I needed more time. I needed to reassure this child. I needed to know what was to happen to my Star. I pleaded silently to talk one more time with this child.
The filly cried, “Save her, Dad!” before its voice drifted off into nothingness.