Hollow Hope

"Dreams are such strange things, aren't they?"

Sunny blinked. The shotgun was leaning against his chair, and Long Night was curled up on a coffee table, idly batting at the cover of her notebook.

"Do you know what's even stranger than dreams, Sunny?"

"...No, I don't."

"Fantasies." Long Night sat up, grinning softly. "Nopony has control over their dreams, and everypony accepts that--even though it's not true. And fantasies--everypony acts like fantasies are totally within your control, but they really aren't."

"Really?" Sunny muttered, sitting up.

"Really. Thinking about it, I guess the ponies are the really strange ones. They get so upset about it, you know."

Sunny nodded, as Long Night stood up--stretching her legs, arcing her back.

"So many ponies want what they can't have, Sunny."

He felt sweat rolling down through his fur again.

"It is natural. Your mind evolved to seek out what it doesn't have, because that is how you survive. But you scream and beat your hooves on the floor when you realize it!" She giggles, staring at Sunny--and Sunny swallows nervously. She smiled at him, and locked her eyes on his.

"There are so many things you do by instinct!" she said with glee. "Things you learned from your parents, from your world, from your body. It feels natural--it is natural. It feels right."

"I--I don't like what you're implying," Sunny muttered. "My father didn't abandon me. He was--"

"More than a father?" She purred, never blinking.

"Wha--" Sunny sputtered for a moment. "Don't say things like that! My father and I never--"

"Then what about your brother?"

"I don't have a brother."

"...did they not tell you?" she said with a grin. "That's unfortunate. It really is."

If only one could truly glare daggers at another, Sunny thought.

"Anyway," Long Night purred, "how is Cloudy?"

"I...don't know," Sunny said. "She and Torque went to leave the town."

"Ah, yes. They're doing well, I'm sure. How old is Cloudy, anyway?"

"...fourteen." Sunny frowned.

"Oh? She's growing up well, isn't she." Night kept her eyes locked on Sunny's. "Fillies that age go through some interesting changes. I'm sure you've noticed, Sunny."

Sunny's mind seized up for a moment. He felt bile rise in his throat.

"A filly's hormones can drive her to do something regrettable. Or someone regrettable. You should stay...close to her."

"I don't--"

"One must keep it in the family, or so they say."

"What are you--"

"I'm sure you understand."

"I--I have to go," he muttered, grabbing his bags and the shotgun. Long Night simply waved at him, smiling innocently as he slammed the door shut.

He turned--and saw nothing.

He whirled back toward the room Long Night was lounging in, but it was gone.

There was nothing but black--no sign of anything, wall, floor, pony, or monster. Sunny found himself wishing that there was at least some sort of monster to be seen--that would be better than seeing nothing at all. He lit his horn, to no effect, and felt despair creeping into his limbs...

"...the flashlight!" he muttered to himself, reaching into his saddlebags. It clicked on easily enough, but to his dismay, he didn't see anything when he cast its beam around--not at first.

"What the...?" He stared at the odd little pink flowers--dozens of them, maybe hundreds, packed tightly into a flowing stream of bright color. "Are those...petunias?"

As he followed the trail with his flashlight, he saw them extend into the distance. There was nothing else to go on; he started walking, following the flowers wherever they may lead...

He passed shadows in the dark--shifting, blurry patches of nothingness that teased him with their shapes. Some of them looked like ponies he'd met: Torque. The secretary. Gilded Glider. Cloudy. He shuddered; if he were to shine his light on them, would he regret it? Probably.

Knowing that these were likely hallucinations was cold comfort to him. Whatever the Rakshasa was conjuring up for him, he was sure he'd loathe seeing it. Particularly in the case of the smaller, more feminine shadows.

He was so distracted by the shapes in the dark that he didn't even see the pony he bumped into. "Ah, sorry! Sorry. You're--"

He gasped softly. He knew those curls anywhere, that gentle smile, the soft fur tinted the color of her namesake. "Petunia!"

She wrapped her hooves around him, and in an instant the shadows fled. "Oh, Petunia--I've been looking everywhere for you! I'm not sure what's going on, but--oh, it's horrible!" He pressed his lips to her cheek, and wrapped his forelegs 'round her shoulders, and for a moment all of the horrors of the world did not exist.

But it could not last, and he knew it. "Petunia, I'm...I've got a lot to talk to you about. A lot to apologize for. There's things I--" He swallowed his pride. "I shoulda talked to you about it a long time ago, long before you and I got married. Things I didn't want to admit--"

"Who are you talking to, Sunny?"

Sunny jumped up with a yelp, and spun around--and he was no longer in the pitch-black room. Instead, he was in another metal hall, and Ramooh was staring at him quizzically. He turned back to Petunia--but Petunia wasn't there. His heart sank as he put the flashlight away.

"Nobody," Sunny muttered. "We've got some walking to do, don't we?"

"Try not to let it get to you."

"Huh?" Sunny stumbled a bit over a patch of riveted metal.

"You are anxious. Your head spins like a top, constantly searching for the threat you believe to be present. It will not appear when you are looking for it."

"So, what, am I supposed to--"

"Relax? Yes. You will solve nothing by spending your time wallowing in panic. You recognize the danger. Everyone knows this. Do not be afraid; focus on what is in front of you."

They slowed to a stop. What was in front of them, in fact, was a bottomless chasm.

"Wow. Real good advice, Ramooh."

"What can I say? At least you did not fall in while you were searching for monsters."

Sunny peered over the edge. He waved his light about, and saw nothing at all. No spikes, no concrete, not even a hint of what would happen if he fell. For all he knew, if he walked off the edge, he would fall forever.

"Well. Nothing to be done about it." Ramooh turned to leave, but Sunny caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, and when he pointed his flashlight at it...

"Petunias?"

"Hmm?" Ramooh stopped in his tracks, tilting his head as he glanced back to the pit. Off to one side, where Sunny was pointing his light, a carpet of brilliant pink flowers was hovering over the void.

"I'd recognize them anywhere. They're--they're my wife's flower, you see." Sunny leaned down to sniff at them. Yes, they were real--or they smelled real, anyway.

"Interesting. I wonder what the meaning of this is," Ramooh mused.

"I have an idea," Sunny muttered, "but it might seem a bit crazy."

Sunny took a step out onto the flowers.

He took another step.

He planted all four hooves in the flowerbed.

He did not fall. Ramooh grinned.

"Stay close," Sunny said. "I think it's gonna curve around a bit."

"Right behind you," Ramooh replied, as they tiptoed along--following the petunias' path.