A Four Letter Word

by RealityDowngrade


((6)

Can see me.

Flying. Friend Shapes. Symmetry. V-formation.

Happiness.

Higher tha̋̎ͩ̾̃n͞ ṁͪ̇e.

Falling.

Fine, just leap after them like always… but… fly before?

Leaving me. In distance. Want back. Panic. NE͑͋͂̉̈̽E͐͑́D̎ͬ͆b̈́͘ack!

Don’t they care?

Grounded. No leap.

How could I possibly leap up that high? I don’t have super powers.

Can’t see me.

Why would I see me? My eyes don’t fly above me like a camera in third-person view.

Worͣ̈͟l̆ͮ́̓d̓͑͗ͤ̍͟ change. M̒̅̑̈̀̐ő͡re color.
Of course. There’s lots of colors, the world isn’t some simple cartoon.

Alone. Sad.

Of course I’m alone. I always end up alone in my dreams. And I’m aware of it.

“I’m dreaming,” I gasp, palming at my chest. There’s only a dim sensation of pressure, nothing too real, but I still need to slow it down. I can’t get excited. I can’t let it end. Not like this. Not when the voices aren’t assaulting me from all sides. It’s quiet in here, and the last thing I want is to lose what precious few seconds I have before I wake up.

Please, just a little longer.

***

Princess Luna sat quietly upon the coral cushion, sipping the darkest coffee Riydah had to offer, coating her nerves with soothing supplement of caffeine. Having found the smell of books was one of the few things that had remained unchanged by the passage of time, she had immediately sequestered herself in the quietest place in the city, the archives. Placing down her quill, the remaining indigo light spiraled around her finished letter and sent it back to Canterlot with a flash.

With a tired exhalation, Princess Luna once more turned her attention back to the low table, though one would have needed prior knowledge of this given the mass of paperwork, quills, and ink that hid nearly even the floor around her. While she would have been quite contented to leave the city of Riydah days ago with the Elements of Harmony and ease the workload that now needed signing in triplicate due to the distance traveled, she had largely abstained from returning so as to properly insure the safe transference of the creature. Honestly, had she not been directly told by Discord who that the creature had seemingly managed to begin passing into true shadow in an attempt to escape from him she would not have believed it. Her own exploits, even as Nightmare Moon, had only even come as close as becoming a stream of conscious energy.

Still, as a precautionary measure, Luna had set about placing luminescent enchantments within and upon the conference room where Discord had left the body in that there might not be so much as a single wisp of darkness for the creature to utilize should it awaken. A layered variation of the former captain of the guard’s shielding spell was then placed around the conference tower in total, and, as a final precaution, she had posted guards just outside the entrance of the room to let her know if they heard any stirrings outside of her occasional check-up’s to make sure the sleeping enchantment was still firmly in place.

Now all that was left for Princess Luna to do was to wait for the train and the crystalline holding cell, enchanted with a similar luminescence spells and personally oversee transfer back to Canterlot. Once there, she could finally begin to research the creature in earnest.

Speaking of, Luna was practically bucking at the gate to get her hooves on the twiggy thing, but it would hardly be prudent to act on such-

“Your Highness,” a thestral guard in midnight armor called, hidden from sight just behind a shelf of scrolls, “your carriage is ready for you.”

“And the Mages?” she replied, already standing up.

“They are in place.”

“You may go,” she nodded.

The clank of an armored hoof to plated chest rang in response, clipping smartly away as Luna charged a teleportation spell for the meeting room, all too ready to get this circus on the move.

***

Levitating calmly in her grasp, the princess’s steaming mug ignored the gentle swaying of her private train car. Taking another sip, she took a moment to enjoy the brief respite from paperwork the locomotive rocking presented and, accordingly, took another sip of coffee. She wouldn’t have the opportunity to imbibe her precious liquid opiate in such quantities once she was in the confines of Canterlot. Well, at least nowhere within the nasal range of her sister.

Placing the mug down, she returned her attention to the porthole at the front of the car where the flatbed holding the glowing, yellow crystal prison cell and the four mercurial cloaks of the hooded Mages surrounding it. One earth pony, one pegasus, and two unicorns, and all working equally to hold the transparent shielding spell and a slew of other defensive enchantments besides to protect both them and their cargo from the elements. So much power, and still, nopony had a guarantee that any of it was actually useful. Still, the creature could sleep at least, and, given how little of that Princess Luna had allowed herself, it was far past time to see if the dark little ... thing could dream as well.

Emptying the rest of her mug, in a decidedly un-princessly like manner, her overindulgence during the past few days was reaching the end of its power to fend off her body's need for rest. But that was fine. It was far past time that Luna, Princess of the Night, did something other than standing upon the sidelines while her subjects strove to carry more than their fair shares of the burden.

Lying her head down, nestling it in between the crook of her shoulder and her wing, an aura of plum light coated over her, restraining her power. Perhaps unnecessary, but with so little known of the creature's true capabilities, it was well worth the precaution lest she potentially shatter the creature’s mind with her mere presence before she could learn anything from it. So, with enchantments in place, Luna closed her eyes and began to loosen the bonds of her mortal coil.

The process, as always, was quite heady. The taste of colors mingled with the sounds of light, and the touch of raw emotions spiraled around her as she dove into a living mind. But, instead of the normal settling of these senses ebbing back into the dream’s matrix, she felt it ripped entirely away from her with a vengeance. Even the subtle shifting that normally accompanied dreams, their ephemeral quality of always moving from one beauty or horror to the next, became, instead, an object of permanence all too akin to reality. There hadn’t even been a door to walk into, she was just ... there.

Straining under this alien force, Luna was brought to her knees, her sense of self straining under the creature’s assault, and immediately broke two of her five seals. Steadying herself, she gazed upon the world before her with hungry eyes. While no stranger to the truly extraordinary landscapes the mind of a dreamer could shape, the unique elements to be found in each one gave, at the very least, a hint to that pony’s psychology, but for the more experienced dreamer, it was also a clue to ones defenses.

Already she was gleaning what she could from the uneven if ultimately straight path of the chalky-white dirt strewn with similarly colored rocks in front of her, her attention drifting briefly to the shallow ditches choked with weeds. She was in a simple alleyway that T-ed into a street just a few paces ahead. It was paved, asphalt, much like what was now being used in some places in Manehattan, though the simplicity of the buildings here denoted either much run down wealth or a dissemination of technology that made a place such as this capable of having such a luxury. Luna blinked, the concentration of color in every minute fracture and edge of the dream was so much more than she was used to seeing in Equestria, and half expected the dream to collapse on itself with so detail going into it.

Moving forward, she paused before stepping out onto the road. Just because nothing was there now, it didn’t mean something wouldn't sideswipe her as soon as she chose a direction. Luckily, there was enough side-lawn in front of the evenly spaced, painted wooden domiciles in the seemingly small residential area to forgo the risk. Lighting her horn, she cast a way-finding spell to locate the creator. Following along a wooden privacy fence, rather than being able to speed her journey along as she normally would, practically swimming through the ephemeral construct, her hoofsteps seemed only to equate to any other step she might have taken in the waking world.

It was the depth she thought suddenly. That was what was allowing the myriad of same-y colors to play on each other, though such strangeness was hardly outside the norm of a dreamer, though there was something to be said of how little, or rather, how nonexistent the warmth of the sun played upon her fur. But truly, it was the stillness that was keeping her on edge. No moaning breeze with shouts of anger or surprise echoing across the streets. No signs of anthropomorphism upon any of the inanimate or floral objects to inspire happiness or despair. It was, for all its buildings, its trees, its cloud filled sky, empty. Isolated.

Trotting now, Luna found herself crossing a short lawn to a yellow house with a red roof. Up three concrete steps she opened first, a red-slatted screen door and then wooden door whose peeling and chipping made it impossible to tell which color had come first. Stepping inside, she found her hooves resounded off the wooden floor in a hollow manner, but what most caught her attention was the low hum of machinery and the crackling popping that began to accompany it with increasing bursts of activity.

Slowing, horn gleaming, ready for the creature's imminent attack, Luna kept track of the modest sized living room. The white sofa, the maroon rug running with teardrop shaped accents along its edges, the small coffee table, the half-sized couch, all of it facing a large wooden chiffarobe that stood beside the open doorway to the adjoining room, and any of it might house or turn into a threat at a moments notice.

The squeak of unoiled hinges sounded from the door to her left, just beside the couch. Her eyes went to track the sound, but she was still prepared, and let loose a bolt of concentrated magic at the wide, wooden container as what sounded like a brass orchestra erupted within, splintering it and whatever content it once held into a thousand smoldering and sparking pieces.

And then, stepping into the light from the darkened bedroom stood the dreamer. Its coloring was much different from its counterpart within the crystal box. The, now, forest green lower leg coverings hung loosely, and held a myriad of pockets, and upon the upper half was a simple, long-sleeved covering of midnight blue. The skin was a pale beige, and the mane atop its head was a light burnished-orange, both a striking difference to the grey and black she knew. Though, she wondered if the blue eyes were also different, having been closed to her in the waking-world.

“Why are you a cartoon?” he, most probably a he, said, given the tenor.

“What do you mean,” Luna coolly asked, the glow never leaving her horn, even as she glanced to the small blue bucket he held at his side, steaming with the scent of buttered corn, popped she'd learned.

The dreamer frowned, his face suddenly getting much paler, “It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, his elongated paws fiddling with the small bucket. His shoulders, if the minotaur equivalent was applicable, slumped, and despite the muted waves of despair that rolled off of him, the world still remained nearly motionless. “I won’t put up a fight, you can…” he frowned, a quiet shudder interrupting him, “You can finish me off now. I’m sorry.”

Luna stood there, a look of confusion and disgust held firmly in check from years of combat and political intrigue. This did not seem like a creature that enjoyed bringing torment to others, but looks meant little, especially when his actions spoke so much louder. Breaking and entering into countless homes, flooding her subjects minds, sleeping foals, with fear and nightmares. No, this was merely the dreamer's avatar, it was his unfettered memories that was the thing to be trusted. The vault had to be close, and he was wise in guarding it.

“Your punishment will be decided soon enough,” she replied coolly, “Until then, you will grant me access to your Vault of Memories lest I force you to do so myself,” tinting the last of her warning with an unmasked air of absolute authority. Its effects were immediate, and the dreamer went paler still.

“Uh,” his brows knitting, “Vault of Memories?”

Luna glared, her eyes turning to slits, her horn sparking as she casted for The Vault. Her horn tingled gently. She was so close, and he had the sheer audacity to pretend to not knowing. He who wielded such power over the mind, claimed to unknowing protection of such intimate knowledge. The power to stifle the mercurial flow of dreams themselves, and he still pretended to ignorance.

Unacceptable.

A beam of light shot up from her horn, weaving a circular pattern of magic above her head which fell in a diffused radiance of blue starlight, lifting her third magical seal. The dream space directly around her began warping like heat waves from the forge. Light blossomed within her eyes, as she took a single defiant and commanding step forward. Pressing her forehoof upon the ground, twisting the foreign dream to her design, the wooden floor turned an ashen shade of black. “Do not test me. I will not ask again.”

Luna gazed in satisfaction as the dreamer’s small nostrils flared, a dark cloud wisping up to him.

Dark cloud?’ she thought.

Taking her gaze off of the dreamer for but a moment she glanced briefly down where the blackened spot now had a small ring of fire surrounding itself and was already spreading upon the wooden floor. Looking back up she saw an empty space in the door-frame, only for the dreamer to reappear, skidding in his haste from the hallway across from her with, of all things, a fire extinguisher.

A single eyebrow rose, a crack in her otherwise superlative bearing, and leapt aside, raising a shield, only to watch as the dreamer rushed forward, fumbled with the pin, then put the fire out from where she had once stood. Surprising her further he then turned to her, eyes wide, and quickly asked, “Are you okay ma’am?”

“I am,” she said after a measured pause, tentatively lowering her shield, though the aggressive glow of magic remained upon her horn.

“Good, good” he mumbled, gaze shifting to the floor. Another pause, a sudden intake of breath, and an exhalation. “Look, I,” he started, his eyes squinting up to hers, despite the glow, swaying from foot to foot, “I really don’t know what you mean. I mean, I’ve never even been asleep this long before, and, I know I haven’t been thinking clearly, and because of how quiet it is in here I’ve finally been able to appreciate how terrible I’ve been and, look, I don’t expect any of this to be fixed with an apology, and I know that none of this excuses what I’ve done rather than ask for help, I just want to make sure it’s said: I’m sorry.”

“You’re right, that doesn’t fix anything,” Luna stated. The dreamer flinched. “But, if you will, if nothing else, not hamper my investigation further, then some measure of leniency may be, at least, considered.”

“Yes ma’am,” the dreamer nodded.

Luna gave a mental sigh, her shimmering aura flaring, and concentrated on her spell crafting, remaking the location spell and began to feel her way through the room to The Vault, though not without due notice of the "unthreatening" dreamer. Moving through a rather modestly sized kitchen it’s faux-tiled floor sloping in the middle to an even sparser den, her head swung to the left to a set of double doors, their panes made of glass, and whose contents were hidden by a set of curtains that hung upon the inside.

Stepping towards the door the dreamer gasped, “Nodon’t-” then paused, his face going red, as Luna turned to look behind, wings flaring. “That’s, my, was my parents room, when we, lived here” he finished lamely, the oddity of his statement dawning well before he had finished.

Sending down a tendril of magic to push on the levered-knobs, the doors swung inward, gently creaking as they moved. A cool draft of air swept forward pushing the scents of orange and talc to tickle at Luna’s nose as she stepped onto the maroon carpet that covered most of the wooden floor. The dreamer began to follow, but remained at the doorway when Luna turned to glare. A large bed with multiple white throw pillows and matching sheets sat most prominently at the far corner of the room, highlighted by the diffused light that fell from the window by the headboard through navy-blue curtains. It stood in sharp contrast to the chipped wardrobe and the folded treadmill ringing the room, but it was a small, and old looking vanity chest of drawers closest to the bed that drew the attention of her spell. There were many polished compartments of varying sizes, but it was only a small jewelry drawer nebulously in the middle that drew a line of sparks from her tracking spell. Pulling it open, clearly too small to hold so much as a broach, inside stood small, silvery bell shaped container, a line running around its middle. Pulling it apart she was greeted with a single tooth, a very small canine, but Luna was given no time to contemplate the slightly morbid discovery when the room around her began shimmering away in a sparkle of golden and silvery diamonds.

To the dreamer it looked as though Luna had simply disappeared, and anxiously began swaying left to right, not wanting to move lest Luna reappear, find him gone, and think he had run away from her. True, he was glad of the quietness of the dream, but, as much as he liked the quiet, even he was ready to admit being all alone was starting to get to him, if the random bouts of chuckling to stave off the boredom was any indication. She might even be able to answer whether or not he’d actually seen Discord. Everything had gotten pretty hazy right before he'd fallen asleep, and he wasn’t sure whether or not that had been part of his dreams before even his dreams had settled down.

The minutes dragged forward, but it didn't matter. He was good at waiting, especially when he had a purpose, and then Luna reappeared in a flash of white light.

Blinking away the spots, when he could make her out again he saw her frown, shake her head, then look him over. The sudden spark of whatever emotion she’d let slip folded back down, and, with an air of finality stated, “Our business is not through Wayde Molan,” and, with a blast of sparkling amethyst, was gone, the light trailing up into the ceiling. But it didn’t disappear, it began to take up the ceiling, pulling it up like taffy. The walls began to follow, as did the floor, and-

***

“Ah”, I gasped, sitting up, seeing nothing but yellow light as far as the eye could see. It looked endless, but, as my eyes began to adjust, I could make out the corners of a small room, and, worse, the whispers of fear had begun to trickle back into my mind. I was awake.

God …

D- hrrrmmm.