Hotspur
Myinnkyun's reflection in the ocean
shimmers like a mirage,
and when the next boat finally arrives,
that is all it will be;
for who would believe me in time?
Sunspot's choler will not abate,
and even if reason could sway him,
the Mookin cow hiding in our midst must surface soon.
Then Tartarus itself would be unleashed
by the abundance
of our ignorance.
Worse by far,
Equestrian ships cannot be turned away forever.
Even the power of foals in love
has its limitations,
not least among them
the ability
to overlook
the fact
that you
have
been
used.
If only selfish Dawn had bothered to warn us,
instead of delaying the inevitable
and in doing so
furthering rumors and gossip
of kelpie menace.
Now it is too late.
The sins of our Lady
would place us in chains,
if we weren't already doomed.
So,
I alone shall bear this burden
of knowing.
It is the least,
and only,
comfort
I can offer the damned.
I love Shooting Star like a brother
(perhaps more, though unrequited)
but even to him
I could not reveal myself.
I only wore the mantle of Nightmare
for Littlemoth's sake.
Oh, that look of woe!
Such guilt in her eyes
when I told her and her lover the news.
Moonstruck would not see it,
for his Littlemoth couldn't harm a parasprite,
and I was inclined to agree.
But what was that look?
It must be Dawn Patrol, I reasoned.
He must be hiding something.
I needed to know,
no matter the cost.
Eventually,
my impetuous nature got the best of me
(as always)
and I bitterly broke my covenant
(as never before)
to scour the dreams
of a day-stallion whose loyalties I refused to trust.
How wrong I was
in judging his loyalties!
But how right I was
(if merely by chance)
in the depth of his secret!
I foalishly assumed the rape
of his dream
would be
my one and only
transgression of vows.
But upon learning the truth of Luna's fall,
no other options remained.
A frantic search began.
This restless night,
my passions unbound;
sacred promises in tatters.
I ravaged every dismal dream I could touch,
and so great was my zeal,
somehow,
I even entered the mind of the departed.
Eleven ponies of the Fulgor,
three ponies of Nocturne,
one pony of the briny deep,
one beast of the jungle.
Their dreams stitched together
with gossamer threads of moonlight,
a fabric woven
by a silvery barb
of mistrust and lies:
a misshapen patchwork of miserable foals.
It was Sunspot's dream
which foretold Myinnkyun's imminent ruin.
Learning of our doom
finally quelled the fire in my belly.
The dramatic irony
as the only pony
to foresee our assured catastrophe
almost outweighs the regular kind.
Neither kelpies,
nor Mooken,
nor the night-touched nature of our Nocturne souls
(deposed Princess notwithstanding)
posed the real threat to Myinnkyun!
Our true enemy?
It lurks within the city.
It lives behind towering walls,
nestled securely within locked homes.
The villain is animus,
and it cannot be impaled on a pike.
It cannot be placated with lighter taxes.
It cannot be walled off or clapped in chains.
It can only be slain by friendship,
and this virtue was abandoned
the moment the lure of poppies
cobbled together a colony
founded upon avarice
and alliances
of sand.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter
how she died.
But Peridot's death
serves a stellar example
of how and why our fortress crumbled.
Shortly before Shooting Star detected my intrusion,
I caught a glimpse of that evening
on the docks:
the final puzzle piece
in a grotesque parade
of half-truths.
Everything fell into place.
I am now certain
Fate
has a cruel sense of humor.
After the tavern,
Moonstruck convinced his lover
something must be done.
Make her suffer.
But do it now, lest she not know why.
Littlemoth stalked Peridot
the following day,
carelessly spying on her
out in the open.
By nightfall, t'was obvious:
she still didn't know!
So she appealed to Shooting Star:
just imagine,
a Nocturne of the Guard,
the one to deliver the news!
Peridot was Myinnkyun's inside joke;
everypony else already knew.
Take her tonight,
before she discovers it,
and show her firsthoof
what that darling,
anonymous
bastard
carved into the pier.
(Perhaps she'll have an aneurysm.)
Nostalgia had been first to notice.
He'd recognized Quote's hoofwriting,
but hid that fact when reporting the prank
to a drunken Guard.
Andi Quote wanted Nocturnes to take the blame,
and Nostalgia was comfortable with that.
Besides, Quote had been clever enough
that she hadn't been caught.
(Clever might be a stretch.
It hadn't been difficult
with Sailcloth on watch,
while idly awaiting
the return of his fish.)
Spotlight didn't care about anypony's fate,
so he passed it to Dawn Patrol.
Dawn reported the crime
directly to Sunspot,
but begged him that nothing be done.
"Good for morale," Dawn argued.
Sunspot,
so weary of Peridot's endless complaints,
was not hard to convince.
And it was easy for him,
in turn,
to persuade Majority Vote.
Anything to divert attention from the missing boats.
And nopony liked her!
It was a win-win.
So, Shooting Star walked
an enraged unicorn
down to the pier.
Tommyrum "accidentally" tripped her
as both trotted past,
sending her ankle into a painful twist.
It might have been a harmless jape,
if she weren't so old.
Star left her at the docks,
knowing she was old and infirm,
as the mare leaned awkwardly over the pier,
using her magic to stab the post with a knife,
furiously cutting it again and again
to obscure the juvenile phrase
"PERIDOT IS A STUPID BITCH"
from its surface.
Cabotage,
watching the docks from his shop,
witnessed her fall.
He knew Peridot's death
would lead to double profits.
Why gallop for help?
It wasn't his fault.
Maybe she'll surface, but...
Accidents happen.
Of course, had Leitmotif
refused the bits to spark this war,
surely none of this would have happened.
But isn't that the point?
It's hard to argue
that a whole town of ponies
murdered one of their own,
when no single pony had the proper intent
or the actus reus.
But it isn't hard to argue that
any one of them could have saved her.
Oh, what an unlikely chain of events!
Yet perfectly predestined
by each tiny grudge.
And though the cause of her fate
must be clear to everypony,
even in dreams
we brazenly lie to ourselves
to assuage our guilt.
Such happenings rarely end
in a single tragedy.
So goes Peridot,
and so goes Myinnkyun.
Now I write these words
as the rosy talons of dawn
forcefully claw through my window,
knowing I am far too exhausted
after my Nightmare excursions
and penning this record
to escape my fate.
Should you find this hidden scroll
amid the ruins of our once vibrant outpost,
please,
I beseech you,
lest our calamity be in vain,
take this to heart:
Cast your enmities
into the waves
and
let
them
drown.