Ah- it's this dream again.
The world is twisted. Not in a frightening or terribly obvious way, but in a way that seems just... wrong. The moss on the forest floor is black and slick, spilling over bare rocks the same red as long-dried blood. The trees are stunted and leafless, branches and trunks bent unnaturally at all angles. There is no undergrowth and no sign of animals as Twilight Sparkle moves slowly through the gloom.
She has had this dream many times now. Always, it begins in this twisted and dead forest. She is always walking, slowly and without fear, toward the distant sound of running water. She has never reached the source of the sound, but the reason she is delayed is never the same twice.
The moss ahead bulges, heaving for a moment, then splits and sags. The creature beneath it looks as though it's made from polished red twigs, dressed in a tattered black cape that flutters and swirls in defiance of the fact that there is no wind. Its face is hidden beneath the too-dark shadows of its wide-brimmed black hat. Though part of her knows the thing should be frightening, she steps toward it without fear and speaks.
“Report.”
The thing grovels before her on four legs, its voice hollow and cold. “We cannot find them,” it tells her. “Forgive us.”
Twilight nods and turns, away from the sound of water. “The sun will be up soon,” she says, though she has no idea how she knows. “Call back the searchers and see that a proper camp is dug. We'll rest here for the day.”
The thing scurries back under the moss and Twilight sits, draping herself over a large boulder not yet swallowed by moss. Despite the chilly air, the stone is comfortingly warm. She closes her eyes, thinking longingly of the magma-heated bedchambers of her underground palace, and awakens.
Sleep had not been restful lately. Twilight sat up with a yawn, rubbing at her eye with one foreleg, and sighed.
Outside, the sun was just coming up. The day would be a beautiful one, and Twilight already just wanted to go back to bed. These silly dreams had been haunting her for weeks now, and nothing she tried could get rid of them. It was starting to affect her ability to study, and she was thinking of writing to the princess about them if they didn't stop soon.
She yawned again, climbing out of bed and moving quietly across the loft and to the stairs. Spike was still snoring away, and she was careful not to wake him up as she lit a lamp and found her dream diary, setting it on the table.
Quickly, before she lost the memory completely, she sketched the creature she had seen, and wrote down everything she'd seen, heard, felt, or smelled in the dream. Cheerilee had suggested keeping track of the dreams to look for patterns or similarities, and she'd said even the smallest thing could be a clue, so Twilight was very diligent in keeping records.
The sun was fully up by the time Twilight finished, setting her quill down. The book was half filled with notes and drawings already- Twilight flipped back through previous entries, stopping when she found a creature like the one in the latest dream. It had dressed in tattered black and a wide hat, too, but had been dull gold in color and reported that 'they' were attempting to ford the river.
She interrupted her reading with a huge yawn; Spike, padding down the stairs, echoed it. “Morning, Twilight,”
“Good morning, Spike,” she said, smiling, and closed the book. Dragon or no, Spike was still a baby, and the things in her dreams were scary in the waking world. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” Spike said, absently beginning to straighten up the few things she'd taken out. “Pinkie said yesterday that the Cakes were gonna make cinnamon buns today- we should definitely go buy some.”
Twilight smiled, nodding, and fought the urge to yawn again. “Let me go brush my mane real quick, then we'll go, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Spike said as Twilight climbed back up the stairs in search of her hairbrush.
The world hazed over in a shimmering prism of colored light. Moloch stumbled, but regained his footing after only a moment. The Dead Wood quivered like a mirage, fading in and out of a hallucination- green fields, blue sky, neat huts and lively creatures in too many colors to name.
“My Lord?”
“I'm fine,” Moloch said, waving his hand dismissively at the moss-runner crouched beside him on the stone. “Report.”
“They still cannot be found,” the thing reported, tugging at the brim of its hat. “Forgive us, Lord.”
Moloch sighed, shaking his head to clear lingering visions. “Go- continue the search. Don't come back until you have news for me.”
The moss-runner bowed deeply, scraping its claws along the ground, and disappeared under the moss once more. Moloch waited to the slow count of ten before sitting abruptly on the ground with a soft groan.
“Are you not well, Dread Lord?” Ezik asked, lightly touching Moloch's face. “You feel cold. Perhaps you should return to the palace.”
“I'm fine,” Moloch insisted again, waving away Ezik's concerns. “I can handle a little cold until we find them. Once they're dead, I'll go home.”
Ezik sighed, obviously not pleased, but let the matter drop. For now.
“I need to rest,” Moloch said. “Go coordinate the search for a while- that should occupy you enough you won't nag me.”
“I do not nag, Dread Lord,” Ezik said with injured dignity, but he turned and moved off beneath the trees.
Moloch watched him leave, then peeled back the thick moss and wormed his way under it, where the dirt and roots kept the warmth of the stones. Ezik would find him if he was needed, and restless though the dreams made his sleep, his body at least could recover itself.