//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: The Dream of Many // by WiseFireCracker //------------------------------// Dreamon. Skin broke, red gushed out. That was the word she always used. The one she called me. The trickle flow of red pooled at my feet. Hooves. Things. Drops marred most of my face at this point, bits of flesh flying off to the sound of ravenous snaps of my jaw. Its sweet, nectar-like taste splashed on my tongue, familiar and foreign at once. Dreamon. And, without prompting, I fell onto my sides, head swimming. Light. Heavy. The village around me seemed nothing but a faint blur of beige and green. And grey, where my head laid upon a fountain's edge. Heaving breathes slipped out of my lungs while I rested and tried to swallow more of the fruits stuck in my throat. No matter how many meals I conjured from thin air, the pit in my stomach only seemed to grow larger every second. It wasn't fruits it wanted. Not anything I would consider a meal, really. “He seeks to enthrall you to eat you,” had said a desperate princess to a bunch of foals gathering around him. “No,” I said at the same time my stomach yelled 'Yes!' Meat... I had yet to try it. A low growl stirred in my guts at the simple thought of it, and that much was enough to make me fear what... what I might do if I saw some. “Get yourself together, William!” I growled. Yet my limbs still felt too heavy to move. Weakly, I pushed myself off the stone ledge, only to stumble some more, dizzy. I lied half over the edge. Outside of a dream, I would have fallen in. Those dark waters would have gladly welcomed me. Two slitted eyes opened to stare right at me. My heart jumped in my throat, and I stumbled back, but somehow, somehow, not far enough to detach my gaze from the reflection in the fountain. My neck refused to turn, my eyes, to look away. I felt transfixed by the vivid yellow irises looking back from beneath the water. Something lingered in the shadows of the fountain, now so deep I could not see the bottom. “Aren't you hungry?” it asked in a caring whisper. Yes. The water curled, almost like coils, almost slithering, and the whisper became a hissing sound. “Why aren't you eating then? There's plenty of prey to go around, isn't there?” Liquid dripped from my lips, drop by drop, into the fountain. My gums ached, as if the teeth in my mouth shifted, sharpened. There were preys around. My heart fluttered. There were... preys... ponies... Preys...the word came as did the image of Sea Salt, crying. I struck at the water, uncaring of the cold that dripped from my leg and face. A shout rose from my throat as I struck again. Again, until the shadow and the eyes had gone. Only then did I let myself slid down against the stone. I just wanted this nightmare to end. I wanted to fucking wake up and be in my bed, not fighting a voice in my head that said children looked fucking delicious! “Why won't this end?!” The air shivered at my shout, houses all blurred together. “I'm done! I''m done, just... just let me wake up already!” None deigned answer me. Of course not. What great authorities were there here, besides the princess that was convinced I was a monster? Who else? I wondered, before the light of the sun was obscured by a silhouette next to me. Unable to move, I stared at the pair of twisted feet inches from my shoulder. Without my leave, my eyes followed the curves of the inky black sticks that served as legs to this creature, up to a waist that was crawling things and hanging strings. A long clawing shudder broke apart my resolve. Looming over me, dripping worms and centipedes onto my face, the smooth pitch black head stared right into me. Wordless gasps choked out of me. My whole body stayed absurdly still, each of my limbs wrapped into chains of ice. I was sinking. Worms dug into my flesh as surely as they did the earth that was slowly crawling onto me. And my eyes, my eyes were wide open, unable to look away from my nightmare made manifest. The String-Man moved with a creaking sound, joints tensed, strings and rust. His head grew in size, or came closer, looming, shadowing everything but itself to me. He smiled. Terror swallowed me whole The world flashed away, my body barrelling straight into the wall of void. Shocks and numbness jolted throughout my shoulder, my chest and my neck, half of me folded in reflex. My hoof rasped against the smooth surface in spite of the blue lightning running to meet it. I wanted it. The stings pushed back the lingering feeling of the crawling things on my skin. A smile of crawling worms. What little I had of restraints shattered. “Let me out!” I stood on my hind legs and struck at the black wall with all my might. The impact resonated up my legs, shaken to the bones. “Let me out!” I yelled again, my voice breaking. He was out there. He was out there somewhere, anywhere, perhaps close. And that thought came with shivers and twitches at the back of my neck. They could have been his fingers; they might have been the dripping strings of oil stroking my skin, running in the tracks of my tears. “Let me out!” My legs sank into the void. -- In other circumstances, Princess Luna would have found the lack of decorum and fanfare accompanying her sister's entrance inappropriate. Now, she welcomed the expeditive nature of their arrival. From between the time she had felt the teleportation magic and now, little more than minutes had passed. “You have made haste. Thank you, Sister, Twilight Sparkle.” She nodded to both mares, then cast a solemn look to the sole bed in the hospital room. “I have come across a particularly tenacious dreamon while performing my duties. Though it pains me that it comes to this, I must request your help to terminate this threat to our subject. He...” She faltered, her hooves shaking and her glare hardening. “He must be stopped at any cost.” Princess Celestia made to help her stand, but Luna flared her wing, and spoke louder, anger rumbling through every inch of her. “T-this creature has been feeding off this mare, and many others, since before my arrival in this town. He mocked me at every turn and even enthralled the foals that he snatched. I have freed some, but many more remains and I do not know if my remaining power will suffice to beat back this threat. His feeble ruses and attempts to pass off as innocent cannot be listened to!” “Luna,” Princess Celestia began with caution, “have you foregone sleep since you discovered this issue?” Luna stilled, cut short in her tirade. For a moment, her mouth stayed open, gaping, before she closed it with an audible 'pop'. She averted her gaze from her elder sister's. “I had to. There was not a moment to lose. Many more of our subjects remain trapped and more may join them without our intervention.” At her words, her fellow princesses exchanged glances and nodded. They had been informed of the sickness seemingly spreading. Yet, to see such a simple gesture seemed to drain the Princess of Dreams of her fighting spirit. She slumped. “There is also the matter of the dreamon's web. This one seemed particularly adept at catching dreamers unaware and bringing them in. I could not risk even a short moment of rest, lest I open up myself to his evils and become vulnerable for an attack?” The words had been spoken with such quiet, laced in equal fear and regrets. The burden of her duty had weighed the bombastic princess down to a tired mess. Her pride laid bleeding before her junior and elder. Princess Celestia's words were warmth, kindness. “Luna, you know better than anypony the consequences of a lack of sleep. Allow Princess Twilight and myself to take over this duty of yours while you rest.” For a moment, a light of interest flickered in the dark mare's gaze. The temptation must have spoken to her with an entrancing voice, for it looked as if the princess wanted to lean into her sister's embrace and let her worries melt away. But a harder, stronger part of her refused. In one deep inhalation, Princess Luna's bearing settled. It did not matter then, that her mane was dishevelled and near still, that her eyes were laced with dark bags, that her limbs trembled from exhaustion. She carried the air of royalty as if the world itself needed bow before her. If Twilight Sparkle hadn't been witness to it, she would not have taught such drastic change possible so quickly. “I shall rest later, Sister. This is not the purpose for which I have called you and your student. I am of need of assistance with my tasks. The dream weaving has become dangerously tedious for me as my magical power dwindles. The barrier I have laid and my attempts to salvage our subject have taken much of me. The ideal would be for you two to cast the spell as I do and join force with me to expel the dreamon once and for all.” For a moment, silence befell the room. Blood rushed to Twilight's face, as she made a small, embarrassed “oh”. The Princess of the Night felt her brows raise in slight surprise – and disappointment. "Have you not studied oneirism, at least in passing, Twilight Sparkle?" "No, the... the subject never came up..." Twilight's eyes drifted toward Celestia, who seemed uncharacteristically downtrodden. “I never felt deserving to teach this kind of magic. I could never bring myself to do it,” she said slowly. Past memories flashed in the depths of her magenta eyes, each with greater weight than the last. “It was always your domain, Luna. You were the shepherd of dreams. This much I could never bear to take from you.” Despite the bitter news, despite even the urgency of their situation, a hidden part of the Princess of the Night felt elated. How could she not, when the words were ever a reminder of her bond with her sister, never strained in spite of a thousand years broken apart? “I see...” she replied instead, with slow and careful consideration. “Then... perhaps we may-” A blood-curdling scream drilled into their ears. On the bed, the mare seized, her back arched, tubes and restraints strained to their limits. All three princesses jumped into action, their horn at ready with light and sparks, but they stilled to the sight of pitch-black smoke rising from their subject's eye sockets. “Get back!” Princess Luna was at the front, her wings spread and her horn blazing. “The dreamon is trying to escape my restraints!” Twilight watched in fascination, behind a shimmering golden barrier discreetly conjured, as the Princess of Dreams answered the call of her duty. Blue light shone unto the thrashing mare, the screeches becoming as wails and whinnies. Small Pond fell back onto her sheets, tears stain on her cheeks, her movements as weak pawing. Above, the smoke gathered, and a silhouette of stallion's head looked them down with large white eyes. Princess Luna dug her hooves into the floor and ground out, “You shan't prevail. You shan't escape either! You are done tormenting our subjects!” The stallion's head rolled back, muzzle upturned, and opened its mouth as if to roar. Howl. Scream. No sound reached her, but empty white sockets fixed her with an eyeless stare. Twilight's wings clamped on her sides, her steps faltering before she could muster back her reactions again. And briefly, the shadow focused on her. They stared through the barrier, and her heart jumped in her throat, shock rippling through her. That couldn't have been... Another shout by Luna preceded a thunderous boom, and a flood of light. The creature dwindled into nothings, black smoke spiralling back into the convulsing body on the bed. Small Pond jerked, then became immobile. In the silence that befell the room next, all three alicorn mares stared at the sleeping pony. -- I lied on my back, groaning, unable to tell when I had fallen, only that I had. I was so close... A sob shook me. I had been right on the verge of escaping. I knew it. I'd felt air on my fur, not as an aside, as an addition that I thought of, but as a fact, an inescapable fact of every living moment. I had smelled something aseptic, sterile and depressing as a hospital bedroom. I had heard beyond the immediate thing this world seemed to deem noteworthy, but the faint hum of machines, or the screeching of horseshoes on wood, or the faint echo of a heartbeat maddened. I had been so close... But the light had pushed me back. It had struck me as a thousand blows straight to the chest. The gaping wound slowly closed. Itches ran over my skin in that spot. Another day, I would have just scratched and found something more soothing, but the first image that came to mind was that of my hoof sinking into the wound. If I had been awake, that definitely would have warranted a shiver – ah! Here it comes. Only when I thought about it, only when my mind reminded this place that's how it was supposed to go. Well, except for pain, but seeing that sort of gorey hole in my body, I felt rather grateful for the lack of any pain. Could I even stand anymore? The tall string-like silhouette against the sunset had yet to move, but it would eventually. “Shit.” That was a mistake. As if summoned, he appeared in a wisp of freezing air. I was on my feet on the spot, but too late. Crawling lines of black coiled around my hooves. They held me as would fingers, bound me as would chains. And with them came a sickening cold that was winter unleashed and inferno blazing. My legs jerked, unable to push past the pooling ink on the ground. With each, I sank deeper. Struggling as a fly in a spider's net. Soon, not even my wings could spread out. “Let me go!” I screamed. “Lemme...” Aching filled through my jaw, stinging throughout my gums as my teeth shifted. Not a lingering thought, but one so strong that it stuck out at the front of my mind. Not painful. Nothing here ever is. But I longed for it. Through the haze and the fog, I longed for that signal of pain. I'd have taken the comfort of not being still dreaming. Of not sighing in relief every time I managed to stave off the pangs of hunger racking through my body. Of not feeling my wings molt with an acute accuracy, down to the smallest pinch in a limb I never had before tonight. Then... then it was over. Beads of sweat rolled over my brow, stinging against my too large eyes, coating my fur slick underneath the weight of metal I felt. Spiked protrusions stood from the plates of purple armour covering my body. Panting, I risked a glance back. No feathers to shift around, but a thin, membranous red skin. I could only think one word. Dreamon. In a dream, you can be anything you want. You can change it all, if it displeases you. If you think hard enough. ...I didn't think I could come back from this. Dreamon. He will eat you all! Dreamon. This is your fault! You are doing this! Dreamon, dreamon, dreamon. “A steed for a demon,” said the String-Man with a wave of skeletal fingers. It was the mockery, the laughter laced within his words, that made my blood boil. He did this to me. He threw me in the darkness. For a blitzing moment, I was unafraid, rearing and shouting. “I am no mount for another to break and bend! Neither demon nor men will ride me! Least of all you.” I was upon him, horn swinging at his wrung, scrawny neck. The sickening noise of skin pierced. Screams over screams. Strings circling my neck, squeezing, but feeble, snapped with a click of my fangs. He and I, vanished into the haze. Blood boiling. Pumping in my veins as liquid fire. Flying off wounds and flowing red and black in my mouth. Blood. On my tongue, on my face, splattered over my armour. Dripping off my sides as if I had been bathing in it. Oozing onto the sand, colouring it a muddy maroon. So dark it might have been black. “You are as yourself.” The words were a wheezing whisper, hissed between crackles of spiders' mandibles. “Congratulation.” I recoiled from the twisted corpse underneath me. My wings flapped, but my hooves felt glued to the ground. Since when? Since when had I been standing in gore and maggots? The String-Man's body looked as if it had exploded outward, and swarms of insects fled, their tiny legs crawling over my armour in a thunderous, all-compassing explosion of clicks and chinks. “Go away.” I shook my head, spitting the lumps of blackened flesh out. “This isn't happening! I'm just dreaming!” The eyeless face twitched, and rose perhaps an inch at most, but he had me enraptured, entranced and unable to control the tides of this nightmare. “Somepony is.” And I was flung aside, thrown with such violence the world became naught but indistinct colours and speeding blurs. And I reached forward with a hoof, praying, begging, that some angel or demon would take me away. Anywhere. Away. Somewhere. AWAY! I came to my senses, within a cloud of dust, as if I had landed on sand. Soon, when the sight was cleared and the dust settled, a small high-pitched voice called, "Prince William? Is that... you?" No, no, no, no, yes, no... NO, NO! An incoherent replied to her. My tongue stuck to my palate, as fear rolled through me. If I opened my mouth now... The filly moved closer. “Are you alright? Was there a monster?” The wide green eyes shone with such innocent and earnest worry... and yet, my thoughts drifted to the hints of plump flesh underneath the fur. Waves of nausea came crashing down on me. God, I could not be thinking this! It was wrong, so emphatically wrong that I could wish for Princess Luna, here, right now, to appear and blast me to kingdom come. I felt dizzy with disgust, and hunger. Why? I swore under my breath. Why, now, of all times, were my senses so vivid? Why could I hear, the beat of that filly's heart under her skin, the little breaths of air that brought faint hints of chocolate and milk scents? Her last meal before going to – her last meal. My mouth felt dry. I was parched. I needed to drink something – red, the colour flashed to mind, not a ridiculous crimson as my mane, but the dark, rich, mellow dark shade of red. If I opened my mouth, if I closed my fangs on a – little – spot of fur, then I'd be able to taste... I needed to eat. I had to eat. I was going to die. I would die if I did not eat now. My legs stayed locked as pillars of stone dug deep into the sand. Leave, kid, for God's sake, LEAVE! I could not move. If I tried moving, then I'd... I'd... The foal took a step back, ears folded atop her head. “Are you... drooling?” ~~ It sank into the neck. Blood splattered but he did not flinch. He never had. It had been his very nature to do these things. He could take in the unblinking stare without a care in the world. His knife slid underneath the skin, and with another skillful push, parted it from the flesh. Then, to his astonishment, another piece of fish slid on the counter, right next to his. The dark pink flesh seemed to glow under the light of the candles on the walls, and the stallion on his side looked at him with a childish grin. Hopeful for approval. Validation. Small Fry's ear ticked as a stray thought wormed itself past the facade of every day work. His sous-chef... What was his name? They'd been working together for hours – days – weeks – forever –, so it should be on the tip of his tongue, shouldn't it? Truly, it should, if the sight of a cream-like coat and soft brown mane on this stallion just ticked at the back of his mind. There was a familiarity to him, hints in the sometimes shyness that emerged when the stallion looked like he might commit a mistake. “How many tables left...?” Small Fry heard himself say. “Oh, just the delegation from Canterlot!” His eyes darted back to the dining room, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of so many posh ponies. His ears drooped as he held back a wince. How could he have forgotten? Their order waited on the countertop, just in front of him. All demanding his specialty. “How many fishes do we have left?” Enormous deep blue carcasses hung from the hooks in the cooling chambers. One could not walk through the small alleys without brushing some fish's skin or some seafood's shell. It brought a proud grin to his face, the sight of their restaurant so well-furnished. His little sister was unequaled amongst all the other f-- ...Had she even entered the restaurant since he started cooking – weeks – hours ago? He was in the dining room, his maitre-d'oeuvre passing him by with a polite nod. He was looking at the many ponies, seated at every single table, and he could recall dozens of customers sitting in each before. They hadn't restocked. He hadn't seen Small Pond in forever. The whole restaurant froze to the resounding sound of plates crashing onto the wooden floor. Those ponies, they looked at him with expressions that were just a little too much, a little too appalled, too concerned, too much. And his sous-chef... ah... his sous-chef looked scared. Small Fry snarled. ~~ The filly was taking steps backward. I was moving forward. “P-prince... William?” My eyes focused on the speed of her legs, on the widening of her innocent little eyes. How the life danced. How much vitality could a young body hold. How much? The hunger crawled up the back of my neck as a mass of fangs. Each sunk a little deeper, under the mane, under the skin, scraping on my skull, then pushing, forcing its way in. Trails of drool spread in-between my fangs, dripped from my chin onto the sand. An inhuman growl rose from my guts, in echoes and distortion. I could hear the String-Man laugh when my prey fell to the ground. The filly was crying. “No, no, no, mommy...” she sobbed. “Mommy!” The filly was crying, and I felt my body still. The dream remembered. Words could be law, and laws had been passed. The landscape seemed to spread before me, vast in space and time, and yet closing in on me. For an eternity and less than a heartbeat, the hunger within me vanished. Instead of it, words. My own, in a faint echo. “Never again,” I whispered, amazed. “Never again.” Not the foals free-falling. Not Sea Salt questioning his worth. Never again will I let a foal cry in my presence. Never again, and their promise was a rampart upon which the most savage broke. They might roar and rampage, they might screech from the deepest recesses of my mind, but my body became my own again, and my will slithered through. “TAKE THEM, LUNA!” I hollered to the skies over my every instinct. “TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME!” The fangs turned inward as a staggering rage battled my relief. No! screamed the monsters, and the hunger, and a little desperate piece of me. They were for us. They had to be consumed for us to survive! But they were powerless. The cowering filly disappeared into thin air, and thrice more, agony stabbed through my heart. I collapsed, my body weighted down by my melting armour. There's the price... Alone, in the middle of a deserted street where there had once been foals and parents mingling about the stalls and the houses. Alone with the torturous demands of a need growing, and nothing to answer it with. Was I going to die here? Alone on the sand, under the eyes of the sun and the sea? ...So I never did get to have that adventure in the end. No princess to save, no evil to defeat. Just a long night of attrition near the sea... Well, it could have gone worse. The children were safe. That was something, right? Tears rolled on my cheeks. I missed my crummy apartment. I missed my idiot roommate and his insane theories. I missed sitting on our couch and laughing over the newest episode of our favourite shows. Which one were we even at? The one before the finale, right? Ah... it didn't really matter anymore. Dreams, dreams, dreams. I never really got it, did I? Maybe I would wake up after all. Probably not. Sorry, Mom, Dad. I hope the insurances will cover up my student's loan... Sorry, Luke, I guess we won't be working on your electric go-kart project together after all. Sorry, Lisa, best of luck for your next final. Sorry, Isabella, Grant, Monique, Ted. Sorry. This was such a stupid death! As a walking cliché, with the most eye-killing combination of colours, lying in the sand because I wouldn't eat some talking animals. Hell, I would bet Luke had eaten horses before, the crazy bastard. Will they cry when they notice I'm gone? But, even as I let my senses drift, one voice arose, nasal, shaking, and with such pep that I felt almost insulted. “Oh, there are so few ponies around here to help one poor old mare cross the street. It wasn't me that stood then, but the dreamon. I couldn't find the strength to resist anymore. I... I wanted to live... The old grandma from before, the wrinkled blue mare that had hit me in the face with a fridge. The one that had flirted with me. She was there. Alone in the streets, and talking as if she wanted me to notice. Hoping. Wishing. The monster in my chest fumed, displeased with such poor energy to pilfer. Its disappointment made my limbs lumber, but I still took the staggering steps toward her. The determination I had displayed earlier was crumbling. The foals, I could not. Them, I could not. Anypony else, however... My stomach was collapsing on itself. I would die soon. That thought I knew with a certainty like iron. “Hello, Granny,” I greeted with a pitiful, rasping noise. In the blink of an eye, the old mare swirled around, acting surprised to hear anypony answer her at all. And, as her gaze met mine, something in the air changed. It wasn't a cue from the dream, nothing so esoteric. Yet my back felt heavier than if it had still been carrying the armour. Did she notice? With my wings clasped on my sides and my mouth closed, did she notice the marks of a dreamon? Her face lit up like the sun. “Harpoon! It is you!” Harpoon? I only had time to wonder. “Granny, I-” I tried to say, but her vice grip yanked half of my body so hard I nearly flew. “Whoa!” “It's so good of you to come home.” I jerked, casting a wild look at my surroundings. I hadn't noticed when they changed. In lieu of a street on a beach, around us were a damp hut of wooden bamboo. I recognized nothing of it but a faint familiarity with the hotel. And yet... here, I could believe somepony lived. There were little things, little fragments of memories that hung around an old mare's house. A half-melted candle on the table, a pair of cooking pans, an antique-looking brown couch, a dark blue and white striped-uniform hanging from a door handle. The most prominent, the one thing on which every pair of eyes had to look at, clung to the fridge's door. It was a little square of paper, shining, in pristine condition. Compared to anything else, it seemed a miniature sun, casting light where even the dusty furniture could not shadow. A mare and a stallion looked back, their smiles radiant, and the stallion's dark grey hoof wrapped around the blue mare's shoulder. Behind that paper frame, they would never move, and yet I'd think them alive. One of them certainly was. Granny was humming cheerfully, every one of her step like a jump. She had springs for legs, for sure. And even her wrinkled face could appear young with such a joy. She called me Harpoon. “Remind me…” my voice trailed off, suddenly weak. “…How old am I?” The mare's hooves stilled over the teacups. Had the room gone grey? The photograph's shine had dimmed. Granny looked back, and for the shortest time, I could have sworn that there had been a light of recognition flashing in those old green eyes. Granny stepped close quickly, her frail forelegs circling a single one of mine. “Oh, Harpoon, you poor dear…” she whispered with tears in her eyes. “Is your memory acting up again?” I wanted to smile, to be brave or kind, but I couldn't, not with such a punch in the guts. “Yes, I’m sorry, dear.” “Oh...” she said quietly, before letting out a little laugh. “Why would you ever apologize, my sweet stallion? This was never your fault. The doctors said there was nothing to do.” “Will you help me remember then?” I did not know why I said that. But once Granny guided me by the hoof to an old sofa, I found I could not resist anymore. She had me sit down next to her, close, her head touching mine as would lovers'. “This… this is the picture we took on our first anniversary.” Her frail hoof rasped against a glass frame that had just appeared, tapping just below the faces of two much younger ponies smiling toward the camera. “You flew off the handle when the photographer protested against the lighting. ‘That’s not why we’ll care about this picture!’, you said. Oh, you were so right…” The walls blinked out, glimpses of the sea and a boat's deck filtering in our ghostly surroundings. And yet, they couldn't scare me. How could they, when they carried such a gentle air? “It's your warmth I care about.” She leaned in just a little closer, her fur brushing against mine. “It's the sound of your voice when you were hollering at that poor photographer. It's us, together on the boat. It's... it's you, Harpoon.” I hugged her. That... What else could I do? I hugged her. I wished the warmth of her husband back to her. I wished the whispers of love from that guy to return to her mind. I wished, I begged. I ordered the dream to change, to make thin air become her husband and give her the affection she longed for. But the hut did not twist, no one stepped out of nothingness for a talk and a kiss. The only voice I heard was that of a monster wishing to eat. Granny gently pushed me away. My mind cried out in relief and anguish at once. “I am sorry about that little bout of flirting with the prince the other day…” she muttered, looking down and sighing. “It has been so long… I did not mean to disrespect your memories, dear. Will you forgive this old mare her moments of weakness?” Should I have not laugh? Something so trivial, a harmless bout of teasing? And yet in the regret carving her wrinkles deeper around her eyes, only the utmost serious transpired. They must have loved one another so much... Swallowing, I struggled to put on a gentle smile. Somewhere in my chest, a cold hand tightened its hold over my heart. “O-o-of course I will. You’ve always been such a good wife to me. I could not take away your little fantasies. That’s harmless. I’m sure the prince would say the same.” As if sensing the irony, Granny chuckled, and leaned her head into the crook of my neck. “Harpoon… will you leave me again?” A cold more vivid than even the String-Man's touch ripped apart my heart in my chest. It was so cruel, I thought. Cruel of this dream, cruel of me. She asked little, but the truth would claw its way to the surface sooner or later. The masquerade should end. By my hooves. I couldn't. I truly and well couldn't. “You’re the one that will join me soon, dear,” I whispered, taking her hoof with mine. "We'll be together. You don't need to fear loneliness. It'll end, when you're ready." The hope in her eyes killed me. “Then… please, will you give me a kiss for good luck on the road?” A childish part of me paused. It made my eyes linger on the dry lips that had asked, on the creaks and nooks in her face, on the discoloured fur over her skin. There was nothing to be attracted to in her, but the thought itself flickered into nothing. What did it matter? Granny wasn't asking for that. Beyond her appearance, beyond the strange flatness of every dream inhabitants here, beyond the age that had carved wrinkles and discoloured her fur, there had been a woman, a mare, a person. Someone old, that had lived and now waited for the time to find the ones that had departed early; someone. Someone. Not a prop. Not a silly joke. Not an old person that had just appeared already old, one day. She had lived. She had lived for long, and was alone now. Had been alone, for a long, long time. The last of my pretense fell. I blinked back the tears. And gave her a smile with as much tenderness as I could give. "Of course, you silly mare." My lips brushed against hers, slowly, without haste or passion, but carrying the very core of love that I hoped she felt. In that old mare, there was a simple desire and a tragedy that would follow so many. And if, in those final moments, she wished for a reminder of the one she had loved so long ago, then I would give that to her. And once we had broken apart, her peaceful smile made it entirely worth the effort. “Thank you, Mister William,” she whispered into my ears. “That was very kind of you.” I froze, stilled, my blood like ice in my veins and feeling like a child surprised in the midst of doing something forbidden. “Granny…” I said, trying not to shrink on myself in shame. A little frail hoof pushed against my mouth. “Don’t…” she whispered, “I… I feel like… I might be able to make it to him now. There is nothing... to apologize for...” Her eyes drooped as she sought the comfort of her couch. "You've just... helped an old mare remember... what it is like to be loved..." She shouldn't be tired, not in a dream. The fridge she had readily carried on her back flashed in my mind, and a bitter memory of its collision with me came with it. Petty. How petty that thought, and I viciously forced it down. All that remained was a faint longing for the strength she had had back then. The frail old lady lying now would break at the touch of a breeze. "Good luck... you silly colt..." She let herself fall back on the couch. I blinked. I blinked, and she was gone. The decrepit couch had nopony lying on it. I could not hear, nor see, a hint of her presence. I needed neither. A horrifying sentiment of contentment settled down through my body. And the realization struck me more strongly than Luna's anger had ever managed to. Granny had not woken up. She never would. The hole in my stomach had been filled. The twisting and aching had gone as surely as Granny had. I was left alone with my tears and the weight of the world on my shoulders. That shouldn't... that shouldn't have happened. And I could not think further, for the world exploded into a flurry of new sensations. ~~ They were nearly done. Scribbles and scratches of chalk drew the last lines around the bed, surrounding the sleeping pony with a closed runic circle. Half of the symbols, she didn't recognize. The scientific part of her mind begged for more information and faithfully committed every piece to memory. Twilight dared not break the silence however. The very air felt heavy with tension, and her heart beat had been going at a slightly unhealthy rhythm since she had took notice of the immense emotional maëlstrom raging underneath her elder's skin. She was mad. Absolutely Loco in the coco, or so Pinkie Pie would say. But the doubt gnawed through her mind. Perhaps it was nothing of note. Perhaps indeed, it would be a waste of precious time, but her instincts disagreed. From what little she had gathered, this could not be unimportant. So she spoke up. “Princess Luna...?” Both Princesses paused in their preparations, though only her beloved mentor seemed tolerant of the interruption. “What is it, Twilight Sparkle?” Her moment's hesitation drew a bigger frown from the dark mare. “Speak! We have little time to waste.” Besides them both, Princess Celestia watched with a careful frown, yet did not intervene. She only motioned for her student to speak her mind. Trust your instincts, she had told her once. “I noticed, the smoke-stallion...” Twilight stumbled onto her words, feeling her cheeks heating up under scrutiny from the Royal Sisters. “I... That is, I saw the dreamon's face.” The two much taller mares leaned closer, a look of interest on their faces. Even the frantic Princess of the Night had paused, her mouth pulled in a thin line. Twilight took a deep, calming breath. “It looked... terrified.” She expected a pensive reaction, perhaps even one of annoyance or dismissal. In fact, her thoughts had been to mentally prepare herself not to take anything said to heart. Princess Luna had clearly been running herself ragged trying to solve this whole problem on her own. Twilight could easily sympathize with that, and tempers would obviously run high in such circumstances. But she hadn't expected the booming shout that rippled through the air and shook the walls themselves. The sound was primal, the purest rage, the truest anguish; it shattered her thinking mind, leaving naught but a flash of fright at the front of her mind. She flinched when vials exploded against the walls, squeaked when the patient's information clipboard flew off its place on the foot of the bed. The clipboard stopped in midair, now surrounded by a soothing golden light. “Luna, calm down,” her sister said in a tone that brokered no compromise. “You will injure yourself, or somepony.” “There is no time, Tia! We cannot afford to wait or plan!” Luna rounded up on her elder sister, eyes wide and febrile, and her mouth down-turned into a snarl. “I've been blind, twice fooled by a mimicry! I cannot believe myself! How could I have not realized it?!” “You are exhausted. It is sheer stubbornness that let you keep this up, Luna.” “I cannot fail them, Celestia!” The starry tail lashed out, knocking over some vase on a drawer. Its crash against the ground as completely overshadowed by the rising volume of the arguing siblings' voices. “They rely on me! You have said it best, this is MY domain, MY responsibility!” For the first time since her arrival, the Sun Princess' mask of careful, attentive worry cracked, and beneath flashed a fiery anger. “This is not Fickle Heart, Luna!” Princess Luna's jaw drop, her eyes wide, her pupils shrunk in shock. Twilight seized her chance, fearing what would happen if she didn't. “What... what did you realize, Princess Luna? What does it mean if that creature is afraid?” Celestia and Luna alike turned their attention back on her, with a slight pause, as if they had forgotten her presence. Her words seemed to slap back a sense of their situation back into the sisters. Abrupt the words that came spilling from the Night Princess' mouth then, and sharper still their meaning. “Think, Princess Twilight! Dreamons are creatures that exist in a realm of thoughts. They are not physical, they have no bodies to threaten, only their sense of self within a world that they can change at will. The average dreamer will never realize they have even fallen asleep, will never know they were in terrible dangers.” “Then what-” “Think!” The silver horseshoe slammed into the floor, and white light flashed with the shortness of the princess' order. “Most never fear me! This one was no exception. On our first meeting, he made sexual advances on me instead of fleeing! Dreamons fear but one thing!” Twilight Sparkle's breath itched, her thoughts hardening around a terrible thought. But if it made Princess Luna swear a storm, if it made a creature of nightmare flee, then it seemed not only possible, but probable. “You don't mean...” Luna's eyes hardened onto the frame of the mare sleeping in the bed. No traces of the dreamon's shade lingered upon Small Pond's unconscious body, yet the pale blue eyes saw something deeper still. “Stronger dreamons.”