Tale of Black Hope

I could see her running. Hurrying through alleys in the darkness of night. I could not see her face beneath the cloak but I could feel her terror. She knew her pursuers were not too far behind, her husband only able to distract them for a short time before he was murdered. She was to be next. But that's not why her fear was so strong. She was terrified of not being able to save her infant. The impossible colt to be taken by a greedy aristocrat.

The infant's family was too poor to care for the child. They had fallen deep into debt, a trap laid by a false philanthropist. A crass and undesirable stallion by nature, he hoped to adopt an heir unattainable by normal means. His wealth did not atone for his putrid persona. However the poor family would not accept this. As they hid from the aristocrats hired forces, they sought out a family who would raise their colt with care, far from the clutches of the cruel stallion.

This is where she ran to. The mother, fearing that she would fail, put her all into carrying the child to his new home. He slept, unaware of the danger, and too naive to remember. He would not remember his mother's face. He would not remember her tears, or her final words. He would not remember lying before the door of his new family as his mother fled on and fell in fatigue before the hired hunters descended upon her without mercy. He would not remember any of this until waking from this dream on a warm morning in July. And on that day, everything changed for me.

I sat in my room for so long thinking of what I had just dreamed. It had been so real, unlike any experience I had ever felt. The mare who I had known as my mother for the entire six years and nine months of my life, until then that is, finally came to my room concerned for why I had not left bed early, as was my usual routine. It was so much for me to take in at that young age. But I pushed it aside, beckoned by the allure of the day's first meal.

I was so blessed to have such a family. My birth parents had been poor, low class farmers. My new parents, both unicorns, were middle class, wealthy enough to provide a comfortable life, yet untainted by the greed and arrogance of vast wealth. They were rather eccentric for their time however. My mother, Lily, enjoyed studying plants. She was what you might call a botanist. As she observed the fruits of the earth, my father, Nimbus, had his gazed focused on the sky, the stars, and that which the Sister Princesses ruled. He kept in contact with others like him about the clouds and weather. The wind itself seemed to speak to him in a voice no other could understand. He was an inspiration to me, even after I found out he was not my true father. They loved their work but they loved me more.

I never questioned why I had wings as well as a horn, and the extra feature served no purpose anyway. I was unable to catch wind in them. It was not until later that I discovered the reason: During an illness in my youth, as I slept in a medical facility, my wings were clipped by an unknown intruder. It would be a very long time before I discovered who it was. Though my wings were useless, and I had not flying teacher regardless, I did take time to practice my magic abilities, always with little success. But in the months following the dream I took a steadfast approach to improving.

I would think that I was scarcely ready at the time, but the next milestone of my life came on my seventh birthday.