Barely living; the filly's eyelashes fluttered briefly to reveal a pony speaking with Lieutenant Hurricane.
"I'm sorry sir, there's nothing more we can do," the conciliatory voice came from a concerned nurse, but not from her nurse. "Her body is rejecting all treatment. Magic has had no effect, and she vomits up every concoction of potions we try to administer... There's nothing we can–"
Her words were cut off by an irate air commander, "Unacc–"
***
Embers in the air brought with them the scent of sulfur and suffrage. The low floating island bobbed gently in a sea of fire. Orange and yellow reflections were cast off a gradient grey landscape that was once the Frozen North and created ambiance in the smoke-filled sky. A low glow diffused into the heat-mirage that coated the surface of the land as waves of flame crashed into a shiny blue orb that lie half-buried in ash.
The air was dry. Not a drop of water could be found for a hundred miles in any direction. The molten remains of Equestria that flowed over the mountainous barrier had heated the Crystal Empire, and surrounding provinces to their char-broiled state. In the distance the fledgling city of Cloudsdale was but an accumulation of smog and toxins that rained acid on the landscape below.
Everything Treeling cast her gaze upon, both far and wide, was laden with the effects of war. Even that one shining jewel was being eroded beneath the waves of destruction.
Soon. The feeling evoked by the orb was neither spoken, or thought, nor did it require images. It simply was as she was and was made manifest through her pensive presence.
Asheveld stepped into Treelings peripheral and observed the landscape she was so aptly named after. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and rustled cinders from her fur. There was no malice in it, but rather a sense of restlessness, and the enkindled mare's head was in a metaphorical fog as thick as the smoke of her mane.
Treeling slowly walked closer to the edge of the tiny flat-topped island, and sat next to Asheveld. It was a long time before either addressed each other, rather, both took in the scenery as it crumpled and collapsed in the sea of change. Treeling smacked her chapped lips as she licked them– the way one does in preparation to speak. She turned her head to Asheveld, who in turned an equal degree to meet her, and both said nothing. There was nothing to say. Treeling just knew her.
Asheveld's teeth sparked like flint on steel as she ground them into a wry smile. She briefly cocked her head into a tilted nod accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. Her charcoal eyes met those of Treeling's, reflecting a soft searing glow, before she blinked out tears of soot that flaked off her cheeks. Even though she was growing stronger now, just like Treeling, they both knew that they would be dead before it was all said and done. All they wanted to do in this moment was pay respect to each other's short-lived lives. There would be time enough still for the lessons to come.
***
The frantic patter of hoof-beats could be heard on the marble floor. "Push an I.V. and get her into an ice bath stat! We have to get her core temperature down or she's going to boil in her own fluids," a nurse could be heard screaming from somewhere distant. The words carried themselves as though on the wind, rustling through the branches of a forest, into Treeling's ears.
"What's happening?" another nurse called. This one was her nurse. Nurse Clarity. Treeling couldn't open her eyes but she knew the sound of the words as they were once flooded into her mind. Different this time, scared, but the same base tones.
"Get her out of h–"
***
Twilight.
The sun hung in a permanent dusk, whilst the moon was locked in perpetual rise. Though the sky was still besmirched with clouds of ash and dust the horizon was beginning to clear. Asheveld was still sitting at the lip of their floating island, observing the waves crashing on the shore of the Crystal Empire. This time, however, she carried a different sense in her body language. Anticipation. There was a hunger about her as molten stone drizzled from her lips. Treeling made her approach and sat near whilst matching her gaze.
Wave after wave the flames of war washed over the shield and each one staining it another shade darker. What was once a glistening jewel of brilliant white, and sky blue, was dyed a deep soft grey. Asheveld's ears perked up as an upsurge in the tide crashed down on the shield and, when the foam settled, a crack manifested in the barrier. Small at first, but each wave that lapped against it added more pressure, which in turn caused the crack to spread. Their time would rapidly be upon them and there was still so much to say.
The flame incarnate abruptly stood up, and flailed wildly through a sprint back to the downed cardboard cut-out of mother. She stopped in the middle of its base and Treeling watched curiously as she muzzled at it. With a lick of her tongue, a slow smoldering started on the edge of the tree's construct, while Asheveld struggled to separate the cover from the pages of this book.
Treeling looked out across the ruin-scape to the cracking crystal marble, and back to Asheveld. She too felt a sense of urgency so she got up to help her other half. Treeling trotted over and pried her horn between the two large flaps of cardboard opposite of Asheveld. Together the two horns were enough to open the large double doors that served as the story's cover.
The cover flopped to the ground creating a singular rigid image of a forest that a swarm of two-dimensional termites flooded from. As Treeling gasped an inhalation of horror, Asheveld produced an exhalation of flames, which burned the yellow army into black pages as flat as they were. The silhouettes were then emblazon onto their own cardboard stands that were then set up in accordance to the lesson plan.
Now it was Treeling who watched with anticipation as her subconscious spelled out the finer details of that which she had observed. She noted that they had different sizes and shapes, and were arranged by that progressively increasing size. The smallest was slightly larger than Asheveld and carried the shape of Nurse Clarity. Asheveld stood facing Treeling, who was herself sitting at attention, and tapped her seared horn on the silhouette. Though the surface immolated the cardboard was not consumed as it burned. Instead it released a wave of motherly love, and a pang of guilt.
She repeated the process for the remaining stand-ins. From the Crystal Queen: duty and vanity. Sombra radiated sacrifice and cowardice. The unified silhouette of the four winged alicorn that represented the Celestial Sisters was next, but before her horn made contact the duo heard an earth-shattering sound in the distance that drew their attention. The shield collapsed, the fires of war washed in, and Asheveld was extinguished in a puff of smoke.
She was so startled by the event that Treeling nearly jumped out of her skin. She rushed over to the edge of the world to watch the waves settle, and the calm surface take a glassy appearance. It was unnerving. Reaching out for the feelings of comfort she returned to the lesson, and tapped her own horn to the cutout of Crystal Clarity. When she touched it, it became unbalanced and fell into the next one, causing a chain reaction which brought down one after another. First the stand in for Sombra, then the Crystal Queen and Discord. They were followed by the four-winged Celstial Sisters, then the lesser of the individual alicorns, and finally the greater one: who fell over the edge into the flames below.
After that everything made sense.
***
"You're daughter's stable now." A voice echoed the news that a chart bore, "But she had a massive infection that set off the fever." There was a drawn out pause before the doctor continued, "We're not sure what kind it was. It has cleared out of her system on its own, but there is another problem."
"What is it?" Nurse Clarity voiced in concern.
"The crystalline deposits we found in her coat and mane, are also in her blood. That means they're everywhere in her body... and they're gr–"
***
The return to the dreamscape was not a pleasant one since Asheveld was not there to meet Treeling. Though she waited for what felt like hours, her conflagratory companion could not be smoked out. Strangely the lake of fire below was choppy, but the skies above were clearing. Crystal clear. The filly stared into the endless black of space until a voice broke her trance. She was alone no longer.
"Oh..."
Excitement turned to disappointment as she turned to see the speaker. Asheveld was like her and didn't need to speak. The filly inspected the interloper with suspicion. Though their manes had a similar lift and flow to them; the two shared no other features. Every time Treeling had seen Asheveld the two came to more closely resemble each other physically; right down to similar downy fur and jagged teeth.
This pony's massive stature towered over her and cast a long shadow of terror. Treeling scrambled backward to the edge of her island prison in a fit that knocked briquettes loose over the edge. At seeing the severe reaction to the appearance of the lesser Celestial Sister, Luna, too backed toward her respective edge. She bowed low and offered an apology while still taking in the surreal scenery that existed in this filly's nightmare.
"Forgive us," Luna whispered in as gentle a tone as she could muster.
The endless black that loomed overhead was also daunting to Luna, and distant sun and moon looked to be drowning in the burning lake below, but it was the air itself that was most oppressing. It was primal, untamed, and immutably clawed at her conscious mind with baser urges.
The filly skittered up onto all fours and let out a growl in Luna's direction.
"Please... do not fear us," Luna begged, while bringing meekness into her demeanor. The night princess was no stranger to semiotics, and at a glance knew exactly what she had walked into, though to whom it belonged remained a mystery. The primeval nature of the imagery, and carnal atmosphere that seamlessly bled into every fiber of the dreamer's being, meant the situation was a very precarious one. "Our magic drew us to where we were most needed."
Treeling's stance turned to one of rigid tension which was a marked improvement over its previous state. She cautiously made her way to the lunar guardian. She breathed deeply with a solid sniff of Luna's scent. She could smell the magic in the alicorn. It was a strange sensation. This was a place where there was no magic. Yet this pony had brought it into her sanctuary. The filly collapsed to the ground, and clutched her head in agony while slowly rocking back and forth.
The seas raged and the tides surged. Hurricanes formed on the horizon that swiftly funneled up still burning debris that brought flame to the entire formations. Luna produced a spooked utterance as she could feel the waves of emotion draw on her form, pulling out of her, and into the filly who was slowly rocking itself in a pool of her own tears. A long low wail could be heard rippling through the filly's still open mouth. A sound that pierced Luna's soul as the wind itself moved through her body and into the child's inhalation. It caused her coat to dim and the magic of her mane to flicker, while Treeling's own coat ruffled with the breeze, and after it settled so did the the child's scream. Treeling had reached out for her gilt but, for the first time in her life, she could not grasp it. It was beyond her. She peaked out from under her hooves and locked eyes with the tear-filled Luna.
Everything came to a full stop while the two stared into each other's eyes. The fires froze, lost dimension, and fell into a static image that was reflected in the gleam of a frightened princess's eyes. Though the tears had clouded them there was still a hint of recognition buried deep inside as a smoky reflection winked back at Treeling's inspection.
The night princess's fear wasn't for her own sake but rather for the filly whom was so inundated with the pain of war, death, and destruction. Experiences that were worn into her face and horn. Luna's eyes darted back and forth across the face of the filly whom had cried herself out of grief. Ever so slightly she allowed her shoulders and hips to relax, in addition to the unclinching of every muscle in between. She slowly rose to a stand and beckoned the Treeling to do the same.
Mother.
The word read over the shoulder of the filly caused an awkward hesitation in Luna. A hovering wing meant to enshroud and comfort the filly stopped short instead and hung barely out of reach. It was written on a battered, burned, scraped, trampled, and termite ridden cardboard cutout of the carcass of a tree.
A conflict brewed in the princess's heart as she withdrew her wing. The filly obviously needed the help but she couldn't even begin to know where how to start or what exactly would be beneficial. She brought her fore-hoof up and caressed Treeling's cheek, the tears had eroded channels through them, and the various scars on her face. Luna could not tell which wounds were phantasmal, and which were real. Though it was clear that her presence was keeping the fires of war at bay. With each blink from the filly, the two dimensional surface of the cylinder that surrounded them wavered and shook, and threatened to burst back into their third dimension.
"Shh... child. We are here." The consolation was all that Luna could think to offer as she scanned the area for other words.
***
The scent was the first thing the filly noticed as she came to. The air was heavy with the noticeable presence of oxygen, free of contaminants such as soot and ash, and packed with the the foul odor of magic. Treeling was home but now she had returned to the Crystal Empire.
"I can't explain it," a doctor began explaining to Nurse Clarity and Sombra, "The cardiac incident was a fault in the machinery, not your daughter, her heart is perfectly fine. From what we can determine she released a wave of energy that–"
The talking stopped as the machines indicated another fault. Treeling had pulled several tubes and wires from her fore-legs, and struggled to sit up. Though concern was written all over their posture there was also a clear look in their eyes. Hesitation. Now that the child had awoken they couldn't face their the overwhelming blend of emotions coursing through their veins. It was just as well since the doctor had a few questions of his own.
"Treeling. You were in a coma for three days. Do you remember what happened?"
The question was too vague to be answered with a yes or no so Treeling just shook her head.
All she knew for certain was that she was weary from the experience.