Mille Nox Noctis

40 AB Auspex (one who divines from birds)

I watch the little one as she ties together layers of her magic. They are so intricate that they are blinding. She weaves a net of raw power around the one called Curio, but he is not afraid. He is an illusion after all, and I am sure he does not know what fear or curiosity is. These are simple imitations they display.

The fake pony asks the little one what she is doing.

“I am going to use the magic that fuels you to try and escape from this place,” she says calmly.

“Oh, neat!” the illusion says. For a moment, I think he is truly incapable of intelligent thought until worry begins creasing his brow. “Well, that will hurt, won’t it?” He asks calmly.

“Yes. It likely will,” Luna says with a nod, her impassive expression unchanging.

“At least it will be in your service,” Curio says in a shaking tone.

She pauses, eyes wide. “You are not afraid?”

“Oh, I am afraid, my queen, but I will do what I must to serve you.”

She falters and the magic unravels like so many threads being set loose into the wind. Her voice is torn with guilt and horror in realization of what she had been about to do. I cannot help but wonder what has happened to the strong willed and determined mare who had been ready to do what was needed a moment ago.

“Well, why have you stopped?” I ask with a smirk. “Complete the spell.”

She looks to me and her voice catches in her throat as she speaks.

“Since when did you have blue hair, Sister?”

I look over her dark visage and starry mane, and I wonder the same thing.

41 AB Retrexo (to unravel)

I awake on the bitterly cold dust of the moon, and immediately I vomit. I heave, but nothing comes up. I have not eaten anything in so very long. My body aches for water, for air, for sunlight. The dark side of the moon is so very desolate, and as I crawl slowly towards the light, I look to the stars.

41 years, Sister. I have been gone so long that there will be full grown subjects who have not heard of me. I deserve it. I utterly deserve this, or worse. I dry heave again as my mind races over the intervening years.

Such a simple spell, to lock myself into a fantasy to keep myself happy. I had cast it without even noticing. I look down at my legs, hobbled by the self inflicted wounds I had tried to forget by driving myself into a dream.

With a flare of silver power, I heal the injuries, but the emptiness and hunger remains. I had thought I knew of hunger when I hungered for power, but it takes starvation to show a ruler what it is like to be poor, so it takes desolation to show me how loved I was.

Oh Moonflower...

I can feel the darkness inside of me, seething. Even this burning anger cannot last forever, and that is precisely what you have given me, forever.

It is like looking into a mirror that talks back, showing you exactly where you have failed.

The hate for myself I feel is nothing compared to the sorrow.

42 AB Imbellis (feeble)

I will be forced to return to the dream soon, I can feel my grasp on reality slipping even in a year’s time. The solitude is stifling. It feels as though every rock and shadow is a pony I have wronged watching me. To truly be alone would be fine for one such as I, but I am not alone as long as I have my regrets.

I found that it is not possible to create a violin out of this metal, and heating it to melting takes an extraordinary amount of energy. That must have been part of the dream then.

I keep expecting to turn and see another part of myself, snarling or smiling sweetly to tell me which of them I am. Am I Nightmare or Luna today?

Nopony knows.

The planet above is beautiful. Your light warms it and graces it with life in the most beautiful way. All I do is provide an empty promise of light without life during the night.

This existence is such a feeble thing. I have gazed beyond the feathers of reality to see the bones and muscle that tear apart galaxies when they flex.

I have drowned my closest confidants in blood and mercy as they gag out thanks and praise to my celestial beauty.

My mind is a flight of butterflies, a fleeting interaction of desperate attempts for clarity.

I am fading.

I am playing chicken with the cliff of sanity.

I am dreaming.

43 AB liberi (Children)

The world is so warm.

I writhe myself out of a protective embrace to gaze around at the starry void around me, the glimmers of light in the distance winking at me playfully. I feel the light and the joy of this empty yet crowded place, and bathe in it.

Soon I come to realize I am not alone, but it does not worry me. My twin smiles back as she gazes into the stars with me.

We orbit our home in tandem, dancing an intricate dance of tides and shimmering light.

We play on the grassy shores of this empty world that has always been there for us.

Our hooves pound across these peaceful lands as we dodge, and jump, and play. If only this could last forever.

We twin moons grow cold over time, and our movements slow to stretch eons between our crossing.

I feel as though I am growing old, though I am but an infant.

I am not happy with this world, so I end it. My moon crashing into it with the finality of death.

44 AB Remedium (healing)

I look into the mirror, and the mirror looks back.

No frame, or silver glass holds us apart, yet we are loathe to cross that boundary and embrace. We both feel the same pain and the same ache, but we cannot help each other. How could we? Every comfort, we would know how to destroy. Every hug, we would be carrying out in self pity, and thus they would be hollow.

So we must not be the same. We must be different, or die. My reflection grows smaller, weaker, and gentler. All the while I am growing fangs and releasing any warmth from my heart. I know suffering, and I know pain. She knows sorrow and isolation.

I will carry the flame that will bear us through this exile alive, and she can be the one that cries in the corner each night, knowing damn well that I wish I could.

So now we gaze at each other with new eyes, through tinted lenses that allow our hearts to differ enough to where we are two separate beings, the good and the bad. So now we cross that line and embrace. We cry, and we truly know regret.