The Doctrines of Darkness

"GAH!"

Scry Fly woke up again as thunder struck. Sweat dripped from his mane to all over his body, blanket soaked like a wet paper towel. He hyperventilated very heavily, tons of oxygen being converted into carbon dioxide thanks to his weak lungs. Pupils had shrunk to the size of beads.

It was the same as every nightmare.

This time, however, the numbers grew as the nights passed. He would always stand there with those blades on his legs. Blood would drip from them like water falling from a faucet after a good hoofwash. That sadistic laughter would play like a backtrack again after the job was done. It was horrifying.

Suddenly, his bedroom door had been quickly opened. Two pony silhouettes were at the doorstep. He was still trying to recover the effects from his nightmare, so he panicked when he saw them.

"AH!" the colt screamed, as he accidentally shot the ceiling with a fireball from his horn. The ponies tried to go up to him, but the fireballs had slowed them down.

"Scry Fly! It's us! Please calm down!" one of them yelled, finally reaching his bed. Scry took a better look, revealing the silhouettes as his parents.

"M-mom...d-dad...?"

"Shh...it's only a nightmare..." his mother, Diamond Hope comforted him. He cried in her hooves while his father, Tuxedo Shadow inspected the damages. Tears had ran down from Scry's eyes and onto his mother's fur.

"Hmm...at this point, we might need to call the repaircolt again." he stated.

"I-I'm sorry..." Scry whimpered as his father trotted towards them to join the embrace.

"It's alright."

He cried until he managed to go to sleep again. Scry's mom tucked him in bed as the parents quietly left the room.

Diamond Hope and Tuxedo Shadow had sat in the kitchen, thinking about their foal. It was 3:22 AM and both of them were too worried to sleep.

"This is the seventh time he's had a nightmare." Tuxedo began.

Diamond said nothing, wondering what the nightmare was about. Was it the same as the ones before? What is it that he was dreaming about? These thoughts had pondered in her head.

"The doctors can't seem to help him. We even sent him to a psychiatrist. I guess being born with psychic powers is both a gift and a curse."

Diamond kept quiet as she began to walk upstairs.

"Alright, I'll see you in bed hun." Tuxedo said. He sighed as he looked outside the window. The rain kept going as the lightning had flashed at random times.

Suddenly, the cordless phone had rang. Tuxedo walked to it and used his magic to lift it.

"Hello?"

"Tuxedo. You're still awake, I hear."

"What is it this time, Brawny Steed?"

Tuxedo Shadow was an agent of the Vanhoover Secret Department. The V.S.D always investigated crimes, mysterious sightings and various supernatural entities. They were more like the police force, but had more riskier jobs.

"We've got another slaughterfest at Neighners Street. This time, the office complex."

Tuxedo sighed, stress increasing. "He's done it again, has he?"

"We've tried to gather all the clues to where he currently resides. Unfortunately, there are no traces at all." Tuxedo could only shake his head slowly. "It seems that the more this happens, the further Doctrine Dark gets from us."

"What's going on there?"

"We're currently investigating the area. Eight bodies in one room. Apparently, one of the victims had called security before they were murdered. The door had to be breached before we managed to catch D. Dark. It was too late."

"Even if the door was unlocked, Doctrine Dark is too clever enough to escape the guards. You know that, Steed." Tuxedo made a rebuttal.

There was a sigh over the phone. "Look, we're taking the bodies to the forensics in the afternoon. I expect you to be at work. If you don't mind, I'm gotta go call the families about the unfortunate tragedy."

"Yeah, you do that." The phone hung up. Tuxedo sighed and looked down. This was going to be a long day at work.

Still, what if Scry was having the dream about the murders? What if it was about D. Dark?

No way, he thought. That's just too coincidental. Scry was just not feeling well.

Still, this was the seventh murder this week.