The dying of the light

The city of Cantermere stretched out before Mislana, a sprawling metropolis of stone, glass and open plateaus nestled against a cluster of sharp, snow capped peaks. A continuous line of walls and battlements ran around the outer edges of the city proper, penning the buildings neatly against the mountains beyond. From his lofty vantage point in Cantermere castle, Mislana was able to make out the sprawling orchards and pastures beyond the city walls. Just beyond them, a thick cloud of ashen smoke continued to rise from the villages and fields in the distance, fluctuating bursts of amber and gold from the rising sun occasionally forcing their way through. Within the city itself, tiny dark specks flitted between buildings and along narrow streets like ants in a colony. The area surrounding the Ly'synė statue was still abuzz with activity, and Mislana watched with drowsy eyes as more and more refugees continued streaming through the city gates beyond. He gawked at the scene unfolding before him, taking small, liberal sips from a silver pitcher of water that had been placed on the window sill.

Each speck of familiarity danced and shimmied lazily in the morning mists, seeming more like a broad collection of clumsy, fluid strokes on an artists’ canvas than the physicality of Thestral civilization. Weak sunlight pleaded and threatened with the gathering storm clouds, poking and prodding at the mountainous climates patchwork defences. Mislana yawned, casting off the last remnants of sleep. His wings twitched at his side as he shifted his weight from side to side. The sky had this intriguing texture, almost as if one could just dive right into it. Mislana smiled to himself; a small, tender thing.

Tearing his eyes away, he set the pitcher aside on a small table, turning his back on the sprawling vistas beyond. He strolled across the large room that was serving as his temporary quarters, a series of shivers running along his spine as he caught himself in a cold draft of air. He cast about for his discarded armour, nonchalantly swiping his armoured leg braces from the stone flagged floor as he sat down on the edge of the large bed. He fumbled around for a few moments, trying to force the stiff leather strap through the metal clasp in vain.

Three dull thuds resonated from the large wooden door across from where he sat, startling the young Thestral. Mislana half sighed, half groaned, dropping the leg braces to the floor as he climbed to his hooves. “One moment Amber!” He called out, fixing his cloak across his body while trotting briskly across the room to open the door. He shook his messy mane, lifting it away from his eyes as he opened the door. “Have you got those casualty reports for-”

A slender, dappled grey unicorn stood in the hallway, smiling warmly at Mislana. He stood barely a head over the Thestral, and was adorned in an almost ridiculous level of finery. Moonsilver bracers laced along his slender legs in shimmering, interlocking patterns. A grey, almost translucent cloak hung from his shoulders, twinkling in prismatic bursts as it fluttered in the light breeze. His dark mane tumbled across and down his shoulders, embedded with small ringlets of amber embedded in shining moonsilver. Twin braids crowned his head, with small blue flowers matching the shade of the stallions’ eyes intricately weaved in between them.

Mislana stared at the newcomer from across the hallway with wide eyes, his jaw hanging slack. He blanched, suddenly hyper aware of his own dishevelled appearance in contrast. He mumbled something, struggling to get his mouth to cooperate with his brain.

“Apologies for the interruption, Mislana,” The stallion spoke in a good natured tone, stepping on his back hoof with another warm smile. “I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep?”

“You’re… you’re not Amber Dawn” Mislana eventually managed to vocalise his thoughts. He forced a shaky smile onto his face, sharp white fangs poking through his lips. His leathery wings twitched against his side beneath the cloak, and a rosy tint lingered beneath his pale cheeks.

“I should hope not” The unicorn chuckled, extending a delicate hoof towards Mislana. “Moor’ak, junior member of the Ly’synian dream council.”

His voice cascaded against Mislana’s ears in much the same way a lullaby would, seeming both distant and intimate all at once. Mislana shivered almost imperceptibly as he reached forwards and took Moor’ak’s hoof in his own.

“Margravine Lavinia asked me to escort you to the dream council chambers,” Moor’ak smiled, brusquely shaking the Thestrals hoof. “This is your first time visiting Cantermere, correct?”

“Yes… yes it is…” Mislana fumbled for a reply, averting his eyes from staring too long at the other stallion. He felt as if his heart would burst out through his sternum.

“I only wish it were under better circumstances.” Moor’ak lamented, letting go of Mislana’s hoof with a weary sigh. As if to drive his point home, the distant rumbling of cannonfire started up once again, casting a hellish flicker against the rain speckled windows. The unicorn's ears flattened against his skull for the briefest of moments, his body tensing for a split second before he regained his poise. He shook away the anxiety, the silver ringlets in his mane quietly clinking against one another as he plastered another smile to his face, albeit a more nervous one than before. “Are you ready to go?”

Mislana tore his eyes away from the floor, straightening his limbs to bring himself face to face with Moor’ak. “I guess it would be rude to keep my dear sister waiting” He flashed an encouraging grin, straightening his cloak while gesturing a hoof out towards Moor’ak. The unicorn smiled as he spun on his hooves to walk alongside Mislana, his horn bathing the dark hallway in a pale blue sheen as he closed the door behind them with his telekinesis.

***

“Lavinia, she… she doesn’t really like talking to me about her duties within the dream council” Mislana sighed, turning round what seemed like the millionth corner along their trek through the castle. “I don’t resent her for it.” He quickly added, “from what I’ve read from the accounts of previous dreamwalkers, the process isn’t exactly… easy on a pony.”
Moor’ak glanced across to the Thestral, a downcast expression working its way onto his face. “It’s.. hard to explain Mislana,” He sighed. “Dream walking is… it’s like learning to walk all over again. Or fly, in your case.” He winked at the Thestral before continuing. “A dreamwalker has to learn how to turn every idea, every image, every thought they experience, into a privileged, readable moment.”

He stopped himself as a pair of castle guards sauntered past them, craning his neck to watch them round the corner before continuing in a lower voice. “Years ago, Ly'synė was the night's lone protector. She alone communed with the shadows and monitored the realms of night, but more importantly,” Moor’ak’s eyes softened, his blue eyes full of empathy. “She possessed a heart that could reflect upon the true, visceral depths of everything we chose to forget when the sun went down.”

Mislana remained silent, leaning closer to Moor’ak as he listened attentively to the unicorns' every word.

“The task suited her well,” He spoke in a resignatory tone, turning to gaze at the smaller thestral. “It’s our duty to uphold our Princesses’ legacy during her absence, and to bear the personal costs it brings.” Moor’ak came to a halt, Mislana following suit as they turned to gaze at an intricate tapestry hanging on the wall. A patchwork collage of twinkling constellations rained down across a twilight landscape, blanketing the sleepy villages and the ponies within in their silver glow. A crescent moon hung low across the horizon, cradling the prone form of the alicorn Princess of the night. The mare lay silent and still, forever loyal in her eternal vigil of the night. Mislana blinked at the faded tapestry, before angling his head to face the unicorn once more.

Moor’ak started walking again, Mislana breaking into a trot to catch up with him. “Mortal ponies were never intended to experience the dreamscape,” Moor’ak lamented, sighing heavily. “It takes a toll on a pony's mind. Every session, it…” He pursed his lips, searching for the right words. “When your consciousness leaves your body, not all of it returns. You lose small parts of yourself each time… you’re still yourself, but there's pieces missing, here and there.”

Mislana frowned, nodding almost imperceptibly as the Moor’ak finished speaking. “I think I know what you’re talking about” He swallowed a bitter lump in his throat. “Lavinia, she… she hides it well, but I can tell the difference in her like night from day…” Mislana held his breath, blinking away the beginnings of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just wish I could help her, somehow.”

“You are helping her, Mislana,” The unicorn replied. “She speaks very highly of you, you know?” Moor’ak winked at him in an attempt to lighten the mood. Mislana managed a small smile, blushing furiously. They turned one last corner, coming to a stop at a large doorway.

“We’re here.” Moor’ak squared his petite shoulders, gesturing his head towards a set of heavy oaken doors.

Mislana stared at the entrance, feeling almost disappointed in the lack of grandeur. The simple wooden doors had been left ajar, leaving a meagre amount of natural light from the hallway to illuminate the room beyond. He nodded, a frown tugging at the edges of his mouth as he adjusted his cloak again, quickly falling in behind Moor’ak as the stallion brushed past him and went inside.

A thick, smoky haze of burnt incense hung in the air. The smoke swirled slowly, sensuously, creeping underneath Mislana’s cloak and down his neckline, sweeping in and out of his mouth with each quick and shallow breath he took. Mislana shivered instinctively, sticking close behind Moor’ak as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. A scattering of colourful cushions and rugs lay strewn around the floor, forming a rough circle in the centre of the chamber. Multiple unicorn/ thestral hybrids were still inside, talking and socialising with one another in small groups. Each one was adorned in a similar fashion to Moor’ak, and Mislana couldn’t help from feeling distinctly out of place in his comparably drab cloak. A few turned to look at the newcomers, studying them briefly before quickly turning back to their own quiet conversations.

The walls followed the circular pattern, and were covered from floor to ceiling in colourful paintings and mosaics. Small equine figures were visible in the various scenes, taking part in jovial festivals, fighting and dying in long forgotten battles, or partaking in ancient rituals, the details of which now long lost to history. A thick band of dark wood ran around the edges of the room where the walls met the ceiling. Carved within were the phases of the moon, alongside almost indiscernible etchings of the seasons, cycling from winter to summer and winter again.

The faint outlines of the new moon faced towards the east, swaddled gently to rest in the heavenly glow of the rising sun. Directly opposite, a silver full moon reigned high above the rest of the room. Dark shades of cosmic blue and purple danced behind it in dizzying patterns, and bright pinpricks of starlight bled across the walls and faded away into the masonry. Mislana’s jaw hung low, eyes wide in awe as he took it all in. High above them, a large glass dome covered almost two thirds of the roof. His ears swivelled forwards to listen to the gentle tapping of rain against the glass, and he wearily eyed the gathering storm clouds outside. Luscious ivy vines tumbled down along the walls, creating living borders that separated the different tapestries from one another.

Moor’ak turned back to face Mislana, grinning widely. “Impressive, no?” He gestured around the room with a hoof, his mane falling about his slim shoulders in tumbling, onyx cascades.

“It’s… it's certainly not what I was expecting,” Mislana mumbled in reply, finding himself more distracted by Moor’ak’s smirking voice and sparkling eyes than the room's ornate decorations. “Where’s my sister?” He asked, exhaling through his nose as he tried in vain to stop himself from staring at Moor’ak’s lithe form for too long.

Moor’ak bit his bottom lip, seeming to hesitate for a moment. “Over here.” He replied at last, gesturing for Mislana to follow him across the room. Mislana trotted across the room in Moor’ak’s direction, quickly spotting where Lavinia was.

The mare sat slightly apart from the rest of the dream council members, cradling a small mug of steaming tea in her hooves. Her dark mane hung limp at her sides, and her grey fur was slicked with a pale sheen of sweat. Dark eyes stared at the far wall, bloodshot and unseeing. An ornate neck collar, far too large for the mare to be comfortable wearing, hung heavy around her muscular neck. Its colour was the epitome of darkest night, somehow seeming to bend the surrounding shadows into its gravity. Emblazoned within was Ly'synė’s crescent moon, its gleaming silver shades jutting forwards sharply from the surrounding void.

Mislana’s face twitched as he fought off a frown. He glanced towards Moor’ak, who shared a similar expression. Mechanically moving one hoof in front of the other, Mislana slowly made his way over towards where Lavinia was sitting, while Moor’ak busied himself with adjusting his braids. Mislana cleared his throat as he came closer, prompting the mare to lift an unsteady head in his direction.

“Mislana?” She uttered, her voice quiet and strained. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, struggling to keep a steady focus on Mislana’s approaching form. Seeing Lavinia in this state rattled him, and he had to fight hard not to whimper. Stealing his nerves, Mislana shook off his fears, bringing himself round to face Lavinia.

“Long night I take it?” Mislana quipped half heartedly, neatly folding his legs beneath his body as they came eye to eye.

Lavinia smiled warmly, her face brightening up despite her exhausted state. “Yes-” She tensed up suddenly, seemingly distracted for a brief moment. Then, without warning, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She fell back heavily against the wall, coughing and spitting, wings and legs spasming violently beneath her as she collapsed. Her mug smashed against the floor, spilling its contents. Mislana flinched, wings flaring outwards as he instinctively held her upright.

“Someone, help!” He shrieked, panic building in the pit of his stomach as a painful, undulating moan escaped Lavinia’s lips. “Hey, hey…” He whispered hoarsely, turning back to face his sister as she lay twitching and wailing on the floor. “I’m right here, okay?” He looked into her eyes, locking his steady gaze with her wild, unfocused one. “I’m right here…”

Moor’ak came to a sliding, grating stop at Mislana’s side, horn aglow with blue energy. “Stand back!” He grimaced, his horn alighting with sparking mana as he gently pressed it against Lavinia’s forehead.

“What…what are you doing?!” Mislana rasped, holding Lavinia’s hooves tightly in his own. Moor’ak didn’t reply as he closed his eyes, face tightening in concentration. Beads of sweat ran across his forehead as his horn began to pulse brighter.

“It’ll…” He grunted, taking steady breaths as his face twitched, “help her with the pain.” His horn flashed suddenly, blinding those in the immediate vicinity. Moor’ak yelped, legs trembling as he fell back onto his haunches. Lavinia slumped against the wall, hissing through her teeth as she took deep, ragged breaths. By now, a large group had gathered around them, faces wrought with anxiety and concern.

Mislana blinked furiously, head still reeling from the blinding discharge of Moor’ak’s magic. He clutched at Lavinia’s hooves, face wrought with concern. Her eyes were clasped tightly shut, her face a conflicting mixture of pain and relief. Moor’ak groaned quietly, holding a hoof to his head as he was helped back to his hooves by another unicorn. A trickle of blood ran from his nostril, dripping small crimson splotches onto the carpeted floor.

Mislana mouthed a silent ‘thankyou’ to Moor’ak, hooves trembling slightly as he cradled Lavinia against his body. “Lavinia…?” He stammered nervously, eyes sparkling with moisture.

Lavinia groaned loudly, weak eyes fluttering open. “Thank- thankyou, Moor’ak.” She rasped through gritted teeth, pushing her hoof against Mislana’s shoulder as she robotically slumped into a sitting position. Moor’ak nodded tiredly, leaning heavily against the nearby wall wall.

Mislana’s eyes flew around the room, nervously watching as the surrounding ponies whispered amongst themselves. Each one he made eye contact with quickly averted their gaze, quietly dispersing into small groups. He bit his bottom lip, doing his best to hide his frightened trembling from the rest of the room's occupants.

“They’re getting worse, Margravine…” Moor’ak grumbled, those surrounding him nodding along in tacit agreement. Mislana glanced at them anxiously, wings twitching protectively at his side as he stood in between Lavinia and the rest of the dream council.

“I know…” Lavinia replied, her end of her nose scrunching up like discarded paper as she pushed herself up from the ground. Moor’ak open his mouth to speak again, but was ultimately silenced by a searing glare from Lavinia. Mislana automatically offered her a stabilising hoof, but she brushed him off with a good natured wave of the hoof. Standing at her full height, the mare towered over the rest of the room, her athletic body still managing to strike an imposing presence, despite the situation. “I appreciate your concern everyone, I truly do…” She spoke louder, addressing the room as one. “But I’ll be fine. We have larger concerns at hoof than my health.”

She turned to face Mislana, ignoring the dream council’s discontented murmuring while placing a caring hoof upon his shoulder. “I’m sorry that you had to be here for this, little brother,” She spoke clearly, soft eyes entreating him. “Did you manage to get enough sleep?”

Mislana blinked, snivelling slightly as he bit his bottom lip. “I guess so,” He replied, absently scraping his hoof across the ground in messy, circular patterns. “What…” He hesitated, avoiding making direct eye contact with anyone in particular. “What was that?”

Lavinia didn’t reply directly. She pursed her lips, lost in thought, before turning round to face Mislana with another sickly smile plastered to her strained features. “Venturing through the dreamscape takes its toll on me,” She began, sitting neatly down on her haunches to remove Ly'synė’s neck collar. “Think of it like the scar tissue that forms after an injury,” She tugged and pulled at the heavy item, hooves recoiling suddenly as it was encased in a pale blue sheen. Mislana shot a glance over his shoulder, watching as Moor’ak carefully removed it from her body with his telekinetic grip. Lavinia sighed in relief, her ribcage expanding and contracting as she took in large lungfuls of air. “It's nothing to worry yourself over, just an unpleasant memory, of sorts…”

Mislana didn’t reply outright, tilting his head to one side while frowning.

“I’m fine, honestly,” She added, flexing her large wings about her body as she stood up. “We’ve got a war council meeting to attend now, correct?” She turned towards Moor’ak, who nodded his head slightly. “Your father has gathered everyone already so I take it?”

“We’re not ready to convene just yet, Lavinia,” Moor’ak replied warily, extending his hoof out to support Lavinia. “It was postponed in order to give you a chance to rest up after attending to your duties here.”

“Oh…” Lavinia’s mouth hung slightly open. “In that case,” she started, brushing Moor’ak’s hoof aside with a good natured smile “Would you kindly ask the kitchen staff to bring some food to my quarters?”

“Of course Margravine.” Moor’ak replied stiffly, bowing his head with practised ease before leaving the siblings alone once again. Mislana couldn’t help staring at Moor’ak’s fleeting form as he left. Eyes transfixed on the slender, shifting lines of toned muscles, spellbound in watching the way his mane and tail tumbled and fell about the stallion's body in cosmic waves of shining onyx.

Lavinia cleared her throat at him, startling Mislana out of his daydreaming. She smirked down at him, lightly giggling under her breath as Mislana blushed furiously. Lavinia bit her bottom lip, bouncing her eyebrows flirtatiously.

“Shut up…” Mislana mumbled furiously under his breath, turning his head away while biting his hoof.

“I didn’t say anything,” Lavinia giggled, ruffling her younger brother's mane with her hoof.

“It’s not what you think it is!” Mislana pleaded, voice cracking from the raised pitch.

Lavinia, holding back her chuckling, leant towards Mislana’s side while sporting a dirty grin. “Tell that to your wings then.”

Mislana gasped, turning his head to see his outstretched wings beneath his cloak. Lavinia cackled loudly at this revelation, tossing her head back as her body trembled with laughter. Those who were left in the room all turned towards the commotion, staring at the siblings in confusion. Mislana mumbled obscenities to himself, awkwardly forcing his wings to co-operate and fold neatly by his side.

He glared at Lavinia, eyes narrowed dangerously as he tried to hold an angry glare through his flushed face. The mare quietened down after a moment, taking large, wheezing breaths. “Oh… Oh I’m so sorry…” She spoke through fits of laughter. “Come on, let's get some food, alright?” She took a few deep, slow breaths, calming herself down again.

Mislana lessened his glare. “Fine…” He muttered, slipping past Lavinia as he trotted briskly towards the exit.

Lavinia watched him go, still smirking. A few members of the Dream Council looked at her with quizzical expressions. “It’s just too easy,” She chortled to no one in particular, sighing to herself before following Mislana out.