The Nightmare

Epilogue

The cottage was a lonely structure in the expanses of snow, and I entered to find my student curled up in a ball in the middle of the floor. She locked eyes with me, and all was silent. At the side of the room, I spotted the writing desk with a journal sitting on top, and I lifted the journal to my eyes, flipping through and skimming the pages quickly.

“I'm afraid I let this happen,” I said. “I knew, when I heard the news about your mother, that this was what happened to her. This region is where we first encountered the evil known as the Nightmare, and I didn't want you to find out about it. I thought if I just told you to relax and stay put, you would. I should have known you wouldn't be able to rest until you'd learned the truth. That was my mistake. For that, I'm sorry.

“My sister was the one who encountered this madness when she came to this region more than a thousand years ago. It was released when we broke into a deep, underground chamber. We never figured out what it was, but the natives explained it with a legend—they said there were creatures who could enter a pony's dreams, and through them take over the pony's mind. We borrowed from the legend when we gave the madness a name of our own.

“When Luna was seized by a Nightmare, I had her brought back to Canterlot immediately to search for a cure. We weren't successful, and the longer we spent, the more Luna slipped into the Nightmare's grip. Eventually, I turned to the Elements of Harmony out of desperation. I hoped that they could restore harmony to Luna's mind, and they could. But they couldn't do it instantly. The Nightmare was too tightly entwined with the real Luna, and to destroy one was to destroy both. So the Elements put Luna in a comatose state while I and others used magic to slowly tear the Nightmare away from her. When Luna was ready, she awoke. The Nightmare was in control, but the Elements were able to whisk it away and leave the real Luna behind.”

That's when my student put her her head to the floor and began to cry. She reminded me of a lost child, lonely and crying for her mother.

“We'll figure out how to help you, I promise. I suspect it won't take a thousand years in your case. Now, come. It's time for us to go home.”

I lifted her limp body and carried her out of the cottage, and away from the snows and horrors of Applaska.