#142
Spring. Day ? Time of Day? Location?

And from the black of my eyelids I drifted away and emerged in a world blanketed in white. No walls or houses as far as the eye could see. From above, descended an alicorn clad in white robes and a scythe upon their back. “Great Descendant,” the veiled face called out, as both stallion and mare. “Letter Bee. You're early.”

“Early?” I answered.

“Surely you haven't forgotten my name?”

“Unfortunately, I have.”

“Aeron. You remember our talks over tea?”

“Vaguely. Should I call you 'he' or 'she'?”

“What you wish. I know you write, 'he' will be fine.” he plopped his hooves to the ground and the landscape changed back to the vast green land I was familiar with. Table and stools formed from the air, steam rising from the kettle's spout. A dancing line of garden plants encircled us, bright and vivd in colors I thought not possible by plant life. “Have a seat.”

I did. He waited until I was comfortable before sitting down himself. “So, what is this exactly?”

“I've told- Ah right. Right. I forget about this. Being stuck in this state is an annoying thing.” He split the spout and poured both cups at once. No words and no magic from his horn. “The mind has two parts: the sleeping mind and the awake mind.” he lifted his veil past his muzzle and sipped his tea gently. “The sleeping mind: regarded as the place where knowledge goes whether we know it or not. Feeling, seeing, and knowing is a strong part of it and not in the way you might assume. The awake mind, while not the opposite, is a bit more obvious. Speech and movement; more mundane things.

“There is of course more but that I will discuss at a later time, should we have it. Now this place, this plane of living is similar. Except, apply the concept to the world, the planet on which we live. Now to get from one place to another, one must build a road. Better yet, a bridge. The bridge can be plain or as beautiful as it can be. It can act as a key to a lock. A wall to break down even. It is simply that small gap that can bar us forever from it or lead us into grasping the true nature of things.

“Now you on the other hoof, have been forced over that barrier a few too many times and have suffered for it. Even more so now, reading off your spells like you did. Noisy things they are, quite the ruckus when I'm trying to read.” I smiled at that, so did he. “The difference between you and Nutmeg was astounding. A toy against a tank, if you will. You've your mother to thank for that.”

He lifted the wares from the table and transformed the tables surface into a chess board, pieces and all. Set the wares down on a stump he formed from the ground, like fresh riverside clay. “You'll be here awhile longer than usual and I'll be sure this all recollects a bit more easier for you upon your leave. It will help, I'm sure.” Swigged more of his tea. “You know this game, surely?”

“I do. White moves first, correct?”

“Black.” he nudged a pawn.

“Right.”

A long time passed with some frustration, losing all my games. Never been one for strategy. I was however, enjoying the play and his company. “So what else of the world do you know, Aeron?”

“The world? I've forgotten it, honestly. All I have now are stories of those who I've met. And those stories are a great many. Simply my toll, I suppose.” He moved his knight.

“Toll?” I moved my rook, taking a pawn.

“By another name I am Death. Another calls me Aeron. A third, Savior. Quite funny, that last one.” Pawn taking pawn.

“You know of the Designer, by chance?” Moved the queen one square.

“Oh, good move. But yes, I do. Could I take you there? No. He has far more control over this world than I. However, that is by no means to fear him. He's very gentle, but also weary.”

I recalled his voice, then Rebirth. I had forgotten about it. “Rebirth. It's something my mother's poem mentioned. Do you know of it?”

“Can't say I do. Honey wasn't to keen on talking once the Designer stripped her magics. Poem was made to fool, to hide. Same with Bury.” Captured my rook with his queen. “Say, how many stanzas were there?”

I thought back and tacked down my queen to his, “Eight and check.”

“Not quite.” His rook to block. “The poem as I recall, only had seven. Checkmate.”

I looked over the pieces. He boxed me in with both his rooks. Not a single one of my pieces could take them. “Would explain why he didn't know. That makes the score ten to zero, correct?”

“Twelve.” He waved his hoof, the board vanished and the wares took its place. “That's as much as we can play. Come back again, I'll tell you a story.” The entire field went up into dust, the white shattered away, and the wares fell into the blackness. He placed his front hooves on my shoulders, “Breathe, Letter. Breathe.”

It wasn't so much that I was obeying, but more that I wasn't and now I could. His image turned to a pillar of dust caught by wind. That wind rushed me by and I breathed as if I had fallen and the ground had taken my breath from me. My eyes snapped open and I lurched forward, panicked and confused. I found myself restrained by chains and shackles. I made to speak but nothing came. Only rasping breaths by threads of my heartbeat.

When my eyes caught the room proper, I glanced around. Dimly lit room, canopied bed, nightstand, and a series of chairs. The sun beamed through a crack in the curtains, concealing the door opposite of this stiff bed. There's certain familiarity to this, lying here, waiting. I wonder for Ginger's health as well as her father's. My wings feel a bit stiff though, my wits aren't well enough yet. A letter in this writing alone is producing strains to both eye and hoof.

The dream, vision, state of mind- whatever it was, had written itself to my pages. I'm tempted to believe that conversation. Those games of chess and Aeron's words about the world. Perhaps I should. If truly the world is as complex as he says, then there's more to this puzzle of my mother's. I should believe it, I've no reason not to.