Mille Nox Noctis

35 AB Spectra (color)

Onyx still seeks to serve me, following me about like a lost foal looking for its mother. This is growing tiresome, and you seem to claim ignorance of all this.

My own sister, and you claim not to know why these illusions will not stop following me. You pretend to dispel one but it returns so quickly that I could swear it only flickered.

My red hot anger swirls around me like a windstorm whenever I am alone, I know it must be you, after all....

We are alone.

These illusions mutter to themselves and remain even after being banished or destroyed....

We are alone.

It has to be you. It has to be some sort of trick, the only other option is beyond consideration.

So I begin watching you, stalking you as you go about your day which is odd. I’ve noticed you have taken up the ritual I so recently abandoned.

You go to the bright silver side of the moon, and you glare up at the sphere with such hate and anger that I wonder how you do not light aflame from your very emotions.

Then you practice your swordplay without me. I have grown distrustful of you and will not spar so you go through the motions on your own, tossing grey rocks into the air to break through them with the shining Luname.

Then, as the blue and green sphere turns and our goal rolls out of sight, you break down. You sob and curl up into a dark black ball in the dust.

Pathetic.

I return to the castle with my head held high. I am above your show of emotion. I am strong and will not cave to the lonely existence we share.

A fake guard dressed in silvery armor stands at the doorway and opens the door for me. His light grey eyes follow me, and for a moment I think I see a glimmer of blue.

Walking into the hall, the others move away from me on my way to the throne.

Finally I sit myself on the royal blue cushions and tap the leg rest three times to summon one of the imitation ponies.

The one that responds is styled like a young mare with straight hair and nervous eyes.

I would be nervous if I were in her position.

“Bring me several sheets of parchment and a stylus.” Although my parchment is metal, I call it by the same name.

“Yes my queen.” The illusion says quietly, turning away to obey my orders.

For a moment I have a thought of differentiating this nervous one from the others in case I wish to call on her again, and I call out to her, “What is your name?”

She winces as if in pain, and turns to face me.

Her vivid but unbelievably dark purple eyes take hold of me.

“Regret.” She said sadly.

“Did my sister give you that name?” I growl.

She simply shakes her head and turns to leave.

“Who named you?!” I shout.

She flinches again and seems to retreat into herself just like any serving mare would, and looks back to me, those eyes holding a spark of life that no illusion should ever carry.

“You did.” She whispers.

36 AB Curio

I have not seen Regret since that night. She hides from me.

Another illusion had brought me the supplies I asked for.

This one was a stallion named Curio, apparently. He said I gave him this name as well.

He stuck around far longer than I would have preferred, his green-tinged eyes following my every move until I dismissed him.

These are blatant names and personalities, but they insist I gave them. I was not even the one to summon them, how could I give them names, color, and voices without realizing it?

I have taken to keeping a list of the illusions and their names.

I hope to discover a pattern, some semblance of magic controlling them since I have yet to see you do anything to them.

When I attempt to take control of one of the illusions it cries out in pain, and I receive an incredible drain on my own powers, the likes of which I have never felt before.

I destroyed the one named Curio. He returned moments later, and asked me what had happened.

This makes no sense, Sister. Not only are you not controlling them but I cannot take control from their source. I am one of the most powerful beings in existence.

Nothing can stop my will.

Curio now pesters me incessantly, proposing ideas or theories everytime I turn my back.

I am sorely tempted to try some of his theories on him if only to cease his incessant talking.

Finally I force him to leave and rest, lazily scrawling my ideas and thoughts upon the metal sheets I have, thinking of nothing and doing nothing.

When he returns his eyes are of emerald green, and I greet his reappearance with a battery of magical tests to discern what has changed.

The problem is that nothing has changed. not a single bit of the illusion is different.

I swear this will drive me mad.

37 AB Fear

Curio has been absent of late, and I have had to call on another illusion to continue my research.

She is named Fear.

I am not blind to the implications of this name, and I treat her gently since otherwise she will likely run screaming down the halls or something just as dramatic.

But the research continues unabated.

These illusions are a miracle of magic, woven together by pure lunar energy.

But though I am particularly gifted in deciphering both lunar spells and illusions, these are like an onion of complexity and power.

Not only are they able to interact with physical object and speak but they seem to develop additional attributes over time.

Where these attributes come from I cannot discern, but I have been able to convince Fear to become my spy.

By subduing the physical aspects of the illusion I have sent her to watch you, my dear sister.

She is the perfect spy. She reports to me all I need to know about your daily movements and rituals, although you have become increasingly predictable and boring.

The voice she speaks with is that of a friend I had almost five hundred years ago.

She is dead and gone now, of course. I watched her grow old and wither away.

For nearly a week I sit staring into the black void thinking of that memory. One I had not recalled until now.

Her name had been Laurel Richeart.

I ponder why my heart does not ache remembering her.

Perhaps it is because I am more worried for myself than some long dead mare.

Perhaps it is because I am missing part of the memory.

I summon Fear and I stare into the void with her at my side.

Perhaps I do not want to know how some stories end.

38 AB resignation

I have stopped my research.

I don’t want to know what is causing these illusions.

Fear follows me at all times, her dark purple eyes and deep purple coat betraying the fact that she is more than an illusion now.

She has no mark, however. I have to wonder if she will gain one while running away from you, Sister.

She avoids you except for when I order her to follow you, she tells me in a whispered voice that you have hurt them before.

Not surprising, I am sure that when you lost control of them it enraged you, you have such a tenuous grasp upon your emotions after all.

Curio stops by every once in awhile, and chats with Fear.

“Did the queen figure out what we are?”

“No. but she doesnt hurt us like the shadow does.”

I ponder the choice of words these sentient illusions have used.

I am apparently the queen, which is interesting, I remember vaguely fighting for that title but not why. It seems an empty thing now.

And you are the shadow.

Nothing but a dim outline of my greatness.

This seems appropriate as you lose yourself in useless combat play upon the light side of the moon.

39 AB Destinatus (determination)

I cannot rest, I cannot sleep. Those accursed illusions watch my every movement by the little one’s command.

I spend my days lost in meditation and practice on the light side of the moon, far from the prying eyes of her army.

When the tears overtake me, I can only think of how even my own mind and soul push me away.

I am so alone that even my very source wants nothing to do with me.

If I had the power, I would destroy us both.

I return to the castle, head hung low in contemplation.

Doing my best to ignore the dark green guard, I walk in and pass several other darkly colored and mute illusions before I find her again.

She is staring out of a window with one of the apparitions, who flees when I approach.

“Hello, sister.” She drawls lazily, turning to face me.

It is sickening how much of myself I see in her.

“Hello Luna.” I finally say as I sit nearby.

“I have been thinking on our plans for escape.”

To be truthful I had not been expecting that, in the intervening years I have been more focused on preparing her and figuring out the oddities of our imprisonment than escape.

“Oh?” I decide to let her explain herself, rather than asking outright what she is thinking.

“Yes, I think that we can fuel the escape using these illusions. They seem tied to the moon’s power in an intricate way but I have plenty of time to figure it out.”

My smile grows. She still does not understand that she is tied to them. That they are fueled by her magic.

If she tries to execute this plan, she could very well destroy us both.

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” I say with a benevolent smile.