He was walking. He knew that much. It was pitch black, and the outer edges of the darkness seemed to swirl with shadow. As he continued to walk, he saw a girl walk out of the shadows in front of him. She was a little filly, dark coated with a black and purple mane. Her hair partially covering her face, she looked very shy and sweet. To page, however, she looked like somepony he used to know… somepony he had loved dearly.

“M-Mistearia?...”

She smiled and walked up to him, hugging him tightly. “Hi Daddy!”

He hugged her back, smiling. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew this was wrong. His mind screamed out at him, saying this was impossible, but his own minds pleas fell on deaf ears. He hugged his daughter happily, then remembered why he had come looking for her. “Mistearia… I’m leaving for awhile…”

She looked up at him, uncomprehending. “L-leaving?...”

He nodded, keeping a smile on his face. “It’s just a little quest, dear. A search for time magic. It won’t take me too long, a month at most.”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. He sighed, looking deep into those amethyst eyes. “Mistearia, you know I would never lie to you. I swear I will come back to you.”

She smiled slightly, sniffling. “J-just keep your promise daddy!”

He smiled and tussled her mane, standing up. He began to walk away, but turned back one last time. The shadows were spinning again, and he noticed they reminded him of the ink in this inkwell. He looked at Mistearia… and suddenly his mind spoke to him and he remembered. Mistearia had died.

He watched time fly past in this endless shadowy room. He watched Mistearia slowly grow older and older, and with each passing year her smile grew more and more half hearted. She grew older still, and the smile became a hideous thing to look at, fake and cold. It was the smile of a pony who had lost their hope.

Finally time slowed. Page took note that he had not changed in the least. Mistearia on the other hoof…

She was sewing by the shadows, her hair streaked with grey. She sat in a rocking chair, rocking back and forth slowly. She looked to be old, older than time itself, but somehow Page knew that she was still that young filly at heart, still waiting for her daddy to come home.

Slowly, he walked up to her and laid a shaking hoof on her shoulder. “T-Tear,” he said, choosing to call her by her pet name. She stopped sewing suddenly, then slowly laid her work on her lap, silent. He kept his hoof on her shoulder, trying to get a reaction from her.

Slowly, she stood and turned. Page stared into those grey, lifeless eyes. They had lost their amethyst shine, that childish abandon that he had loved in his little filly. He felt tears well up in his eyes, looking at his precious girl, all grown up and her heart broken beyond repair.

“… F-father,” she said, her voice as lifeless as her eyes. He nodded slightly, speechless. She stood for a moment, and Page saw tears streaming down her face. “You promised, daddy,” she said coldly, and Page felt a pain in his heart like a knife.

“M-Mistearia, I-“

“Daddy, you promised you’d come back!” she shouted, stomping the ground. “You broke your promise.”

He took a step back, and the mare stepped closer to him, her eyes full with rage now. “You left me for years! You promised you would be back! I trusted you!”

Page felt tears stream down his face. “T-tear, I thought I would be b-ba-“

He gasped as she lunged for him. He made a move to step back, but stopped when he saw what was happening to her body. Slowly, she began melting…

No, he realized. She wasn’t melting, she was changing. She was changing into something he knew well and used often; Ink.

Slowly her deformed body lurched its way towards him. Just before it reached him, it fell at his hooves, just its head visible through the pool of ink. “I… glad…I died…”

As the rest of his daughter disappeared, he fell beside the ink, sobbing. He had just lost something he had never truly had before; somepony who he could love, and who would love him back. She had been his little filly, and he had hurt her so much. It was all because of that damn quest for time magic, all his fault.

He looked at the ink staining the floor like blood, and realized what the scene meant. “I-I write… in the blood… of those I’ve betrayed…”

With a gasp, he opened his eyes, looking around the dark room at SCC. He had broken a sweat during his nightmare, and he felt cold tears staining his face. He threw the sheets off of him, trying to regain his breath. He stood, pacing.

Go to sleep, Page.

He grinned, hearing the voice. “You shouldn’t spy on people, Miss Born.”

Beside him appeared the image of Winter Born, somewhat faded and that smile still on her face. Page tilted his head slightly, looking at that smile, and realized that was the same smile Mistearia had had in the dream.

Winter grinned at him. Poor Mistearia.

He sighed. “I suppose you had a need to look in on my reoccurring nightmare, Miss Born?”

She nodded, still smiling.

He had still been pacing, trying to find some sort of way to calm down. He dropped to the floor, closing his eyes and crossing his hooves.

Dimly he was aware of Winter chuckling. Mister Turner… Just remember… Even timelords need to rest.

He sighed as the image disappeared. He stood and walked to the mirror, his eyes alighting on his cutie mark.

He had seen many like it. All the same color, shape and size. An hourglass, short and simple. His, on the other hoof, was unique for one reason. On the edge of the hourglass was a small crack, and sand slowly trickled away through the crack.

Tick, tock, goes the clock

He sighed. Perhaps this was all for another night. He knew he would never be able to sleep with these thoughts in his head, so he sat down at his book and began to draw.

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