Myinnkyun's reflection in the ocean

shimmers like a mirage,

and when the next boat finally arrives,

that is all it will be;

for who would believe me in time?

Sunspot's choler will not abate,

and even if reason could sway him,

the Mookin cow hiding in our midst must surface soon.

Then Tartarus itself would be unleashed

by the abundance

of our ignorance.

Worse by far,

Equestrian ships cannot be turned away forever.

Even the power of foals in love

has its limitations,

not least among them

the ability

to overlook

the fact

that you

have

been

used.

If only selfish Dawn had bothered to warn us,

instead of delaying the inevitable

and in doing so

furthering rumors and gossip

of kelpie menace.

Now it is too late.

The sins of our Lady

would place us in chains,

if we weren't already doomed.

So,

I alone shall bear this burden

of knowing.

It is the least,

and only,

comfort

I can offer the damned.

I love Shooting Star like a brother

(perhaps more, though unrequited)

but even to him

I could not reveal myself.

I only wore the mantle of Nightmare

for Littlemoth's sake.

Oh, that look of woe!

Such guilt in her eyes

when I told her and her lover the news.

Moonstruck would not see it,

for his Littlemoth couldn't harm a parasprite,

and I was inclined to agree.

But what was that look?

It must be Dawn Patrol, I reasoned.

He must be hiding something.

I needed to know,

no matter the cost.

Eventually,

my impetuous nature got the best of me

(as always)

and I bitterly broke my covenant

(as never before)

to scour the dreams

of a day-stallion whose loyalties I refused to trust.

How wrong I was

in judging his loyalties!

But how right I was

(if merely by chance)

in the depth of his secret!

I foalishly assumed the rape

of his dream

would be

my one and only

transgression of vows.

But upon learning the truth of Luna's fall,

no other options remained.

A frantic search began.

This restless night,

my passions unbound;

sacred promises in tatters.

I ravaged every dismal dream I could touch,

and so great was my zeal,

somehow,

I even entered the mind of the departed.

Eleven ponies of the Fulgor,

three ponies of Nocturne,

one pony of the briny deep,

one beast of the jungle.

Their dreams stitched together

with gossamer threads of moonlight,

a fabric woven

by a silvery barb

of mistrust and lies:

a misshapen patchwork of miserable foals.

It was Sunspot's dream

which foretold Myinnkyun's imminent ruin.

Learning of our doom

finally quelled the fire in my belly.

The dramatic irony

as the only pony

to foresee our assured catastrophe

almost outweighs the regular kind.

Neither kelpies,

nor Mooken,

nor the night-touched nature of our Nocturne souls

(deposed Princess notwithstanding)

posed the real threat to Myinnkyun!

Our true enemy?

It lurks within the city.

It lives behind towering walls,

nestled securely within locked homes.

The villain is animus,

and it cannot be impaled on a pike.

It cannot be placated with lighter taxes.

It cannot be walled off or clapped in chains.

It can only be slain by friendship,

and this virtue was abandoned

the moment the lure of poppies

cobbled together a colony

founded upon avarice

and alliances

of sand.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter

how she died.

But Peridot's death

serves a stellar example

of how and why our fortress crumbled.

Shortly before Shooting Star detected my intrusion,

I caught a glimpse of that evening

on the docks:

the final puzzle piece

in a grotesque parade

of half-truths.

Everything fell into place.

I am now certain

Fate

has a cruel sense of humor.

After the tavern,

Moonstruck convinced his lover

something must be done.

Make her suffer.

But do it now, lest she not know why.

Littlemoth stalked Peridot

the following day,

carelessly spying on her

out in the open.

By nightfall, t'was obvious:

she still didn't know!

So she appealed to Shooting Star:

just imagine,

a Nocturne of the Guard,

the one to deliver the news!

Peridot was Myinnkyun's inside joke;

everypony else already knew.

Take her tonight,

before she discovers it,

and show her firsthoof

what that darling,

anonymous

bastard

carved into the pier.

(Perhaps she'll have an aneurysm.)

Nostalgia had been first to notice.

He'd recognized Quote's hoofwriting,

but hid that fact when reporting the prank

to a drunken Guard.

Andi Quote wanted Nocturnes to take the blame,

and Nostalgia was comfortable with that.

Besides, Quote had been clever enough

that she hadn't been caught.

(Clever might be a stretch.

It hadn't been difficult

with Sailcloth on watch,

while idly awaiting

the return of his fish.)

Spotlight didn't care about anypony's fate,

so he passed it to Dawn Patrol.

Dawn reported the crime

directly to Sunspot,

but begged him that nothing be done.

"Good for morale," Dawn argued.

Sunspot,

so weary of Peridot's endless complaints,

was not hard to convince.

And it was easy for him,

in turn,

to persuade Majority Vote.

Anything to divert attention from the missing boats.

And nopony liked her!

It was a win-win.

So, Shooting Star walked

an enraged unicorn

down to the pier.

Tommyrum "accidentally" tripped her

as both trotted past,

sending her ankle into a painful twist.

It might have been a harmless jape,

if she weren't so old.

Star left her at the docks,

knowing she was old and infirm,

as the mare leaned awkwardly over the pier,

using her magic to stab the post with a knife,

furiously cutting it again and again

to obscure the juvenile phrase

"PERIDOT IS A STUPID BITCH"

from its surface.

Cabotage,

watching the docks from his shop,

witnessed her fall.

He knew Peridot's death

would lead to double profits.

Why gallop for help?

It wasn't his fault.

Maybe she'll surface, but...

Accidents happen.

Of course, had Leitmotif

refused the bits to spark this war,

surely none of this would have happened.

But isn't that the point?

It's hard to argue

that a whole town of ponies

murdered one of their own,

when no single pony had the proper intent

or the actus reus.

But it isn't hard to argue that

any one of them could have saved her.

Oh, what an unlikely chain of events!

Yet perfectly predestined

by each tiny grudge.

And though the cause of her fate

must be clear to everypony,

even in dreams

we brazenly lie to ourselves

to assuage our guilt.

Such happenings rarely end

in a single tragedy.

So goes Peridot,

and so goes Myinnkyun.

Now I write these words

as the rosy talons of dawn

forcefully claw through my window,

knowing I am far too exhausted

after my Nightmare excursions

and penning this record

to escape my fate.

Should you find this hidden scroll

amid the ruins of our once vibrant outpost,

please,

I beseech you,

lest our calamity be in vain,

take this to heart:

Cast your enmities

into the waves

and

let

them

drown.