In Canterlot General Hospital, the receptionist heard the doors open and in walked a Hooded Pony.

“Excuse me, I am here to see the patient of room 8-10.”

“I’m sorry sir, but visiting hours are over,” the receptionist replied, only for the Hooded Pony’s eyes to glow an enthralling white.

“But I am a member of the medical staff…” he spoke softly and quietly.

“But you are a member... of the medical staff,” echoed the receptionist, dazed.

“I have an obligation to my patient.”

“You… have an obligation… to your patient.”

“My patient will see me now.”

“Your patient… will see you now,” the receptionist invited, the Hooded Pony walking past her desk.

“Thank you, miss.”

The Hooded Pony walked the halls, casting a memory-distortion spell upon his cloak, causing anypony who saw him to think him mundane and beneath their notice and interest, dismiss him and have virtually no memory of him. He came to the room he was looking for, seeing the name below the number.

He opened the door, stepped in, and took in the patient lying on the bed. It was a unicorn mare, sleeping a dreamless sleep, as she had been for many years. The Hooded Pony sat at her bedside and shed a tear in exquisite sorrow before he whispered, “Hi, Mom.”

Who duzent like a Jedi Mind Trick ref?

Another illustration commissioned by Hoodwink