Midnight turns off the road, trotting down a small track between houses. The path is flanked on both sides by high hedges, and I can't help but notice that it would be hard for anypony to see us walk in here. I follow close behind her, unease sitting like a stone in my stomach. The houses disappear behind us, giving way to the fields and marshes around Dappleshore. The forest lies ahead as a thin line in the growing mist.

“W-where are we going?” I ask in a low voice. “It's getting a bit late,” I add weakly, and in my conflicted heart I wonder if she heard it and whether I really want her to.

“I know a place; it's great for picnics,” she says without looking around. “It's not far, and it has a perfect view. You'll love it. I know you will.”

“I—” I struggle with myself. I glance back at the disappearing village and the lit windows behind us. Ahead of us lies the forest. We are at the edge now. Something within me fights back, and I stop, feeling the words choking out between my lips. “I c-can't go. I-I have to get home,” I say and feel my hooves wanting to turn around, but instead I only shift a bit from one to the other.

Midnight turns around. The forest looms behind her. I am briefly confused when she doesn't smile, meeting my gaze instead with concern. She holds out a hoof to put on my shoulder. I back away from her. “What's the matter, Daffodil? What's wrong?”

“I …”

“You can tell me,” she says and closes the distance between us. “You can tell me anything, Daffodil.”

I remember staring at the ground. I remember the words strangling me, like a choke collar pulled by unseen hooves. The words won't leave me, and I remember shaking. I remember her hoof around my shoulders, leading me gently forward into the forest.

“Don't worry, I'm here,” she says by my side.

I'm trotting up a hill by her side. We are out in the open again, looking out over the forest below. I don't remember walking through the forest to get here, but it's all around us now. The light of the city is visible to the east. How did we get here? Did I walk? I must have walked.

She turns and smiles at me. “What do you think? Is the view great up here or what?”

I can only nod.

She slips out of her saddlebags and pulls out a pair of cups, tea leaves, and a bottle of water. I watch blankly as she sets it up and heats the water with her magic. As she douses the leaves in the water, she looks up and gestures. “Well, sit down, silly.”

I take a step forward, but it turns instead into a step back. My wings unfold, and again something within me fights back.

“Daffodil?” Midnight remains seated with the two cups of tea in front of her, her eyes questioning me.

“N-no!” I squeak and begin to panic. My heart is racing as I spit out the words before they can get choked again. “I-I won't drink it! You can't make me!”

The smile returns. That knowing smile. “You really think I would give you poisoned tea, Dreamy?” And there it is; she knew what I did. I watch as she takes a sip from each cup. “I'm not like that,” she says and sets the cups down daintily. “You hurt me, Daffodil.”

I point a shaking hoof at the cups. “Y-you're immune or something! You drank it. You drank the poison. I saw you drink it all!”

“I 'magicked' it away, silly. It tasted awful. I couldn't have drunk it even if I wanted to,” she winks and pats the ground next to her. “Come on, sit down with me. I promise, I would never kill you with poison. That's not like me at all.”

I should fly away.

I should turn my back on her, and she can't stop me.

I fold my wings and sit down next to her without meeting her eyes. She levitates one of the cups over to me. I pick it up and hold it, staring into the murky surface.

She hoofs me a scone and smiles at me. “I still care about you, Daffodil. I'm not mad at you for the poison thing. I love you, I really do.”

I take the scone, but I still don't meet her eyes. “I l-love you too,” I say, but my voice and heart are empty as I voice the words. I know what she wants to hear, but I can't say it the way I think she wishes I could.

I feel uncomfortably warm, like my veins are full of hot water. I breathe harder and feel a sudden need to stand up, to move around, lest I lose track of myself. I must move! I stumble to my hooves, and I can't breathe. Midnight looks up at me. I think she's asking me something, but the words arrive from so far away they're only a distant echo.

I lift a hoof to my head and stumble. I hit the ground and clutch a lavender hoof. “M-mid…”

Where am I?

What is happening to me?

“H-help me …”

“Daffodil? Can you hear me?”

I try to cry for help, but something blocks my voice. I struggle, but something is holding me, tied up and stretched out. I twist and fight against it, but it only hurts, cutting into my legs and body. The stars and forest slowly come into focus around me. I turn my head and stare into Midnight's moonlit face.

She smiles a brief smile, replaced soon by sorrow. “I know you may not believe me, Daffodil,” she says and brushes my mane out of my eyes. She kisses the corner of my mouth and closes her eyes while nuzzling my face. “But you have no idea how much it pains me. I never wanted this.”

I look down at the gag silencing me and the ropes twisting around my limbs. I look around the deep forest surrounding us, and all I can see is her. We are alone out here. I don't think anypony would hear me even if I could scream for help.

“I admire you, Daffodil. I respect your convictions. In your heart you know that I am but a lowly unicorn, fit only to serve a noble and majestic pegasus like yourself,” she smiles sadly and traces her eyes and hoof along my barrel. I become aware of just how exposed I am, stretched out and gagged between trees. “I guess I was disappointed,” she says quietly.

“I expected …” she continues slowly to herself and stops. Her hoof settles between my hind legs, but only for a moment. I close my eyes and feel my heart pounding as she walks around me, her eyes examining my body from every angle. I try to focus on the beat in my chest, blocking out everything else, but her voice and touch cut through it like a knife. “Why did you never make me yours?” she almost whispers. “Like you dreamed?”

I gasp as something cold touches my skin and pricks the inside of my hind leg. “You could have made me your slave, Daffodil. I could have been the lowly unicorn slave of your wildest fantasies.” The metal traces down my leg and settles on my heaving stomach just above the two small nipples. “But you never had the guts to live out your dreams, did you?”

She stops behind me and kisses my hoof. Her lips touch my leg as she travels downwards, licking the inside of my leg, following the trail left by the metal tool. The long, slow strokes of her tongue wet my fur and send jolts through my lower body. I weep and close my eyes tighter, but she won't go away.

I try to hum as I cry to myself. I try to remember the songs I used to sing. Above them all plays the soft sounds of her gentle licks. It is all the sound she makes as she suckles me.

Something hard and smooth settles at the base of my tail and slides upwards a little. I cry and bite hard on the gag as she pushes it; biting until I can taste my blood mixing with the tears. She slides it in deeper, and the pain between my legs takes me away. I dream of flying free and laughing in the skies. I dream of tomorrow, and all the days I will never see. I cry as I think of my friends that I will never see.

I don't know how long she's been silent.

I only realize that she has stopped when I feel the metal prick at my neck.

“You believe it, don't you?” She whispers in my ear and strokes my wing. “So why didn't you live it? You should always live your dreams. Whatever it takes.” She brushes my tear-soaked mane and cheek. “You and I, we were never the most blessed of ponies. Look at your friend, Mandrake. She's so much smarter than us. She's got it all from birth. Natural intelligence and a talent for studying. She could make it far, no doubt about it. But you know as well as I that it doesn't matter. Not as long as we work harder; not as long as we're never afraid to do whatever it takes!”

“She could have been your little slave too. You already had her in your hollow hoof, you know. Why didn't you ever take advantage of that? Don't you think she should be your slave? Don't you think you deserve her?” I feel her moving around me slowly.

“I don't think Mandrake believes in anything,” she continues. “Not like you and I. She studies, but what for? What are her dreams? You, Daffodil, you have dreams and beliefs, unlike so many ponies who just live their lives day to day. That is why you are so precious to me, even when you drive me crazy with the way you never do anything except dream! And it's why it pains me that you never saw what you could have had. What we could have had together.”

The forest falls silent around me. I open my eyes.

Midnight is looking back at me. Something levitates in the air in front of me. I stare at the wooden handle with the long metal point. Without a word she lowers it again. I shake my head and cry through the gag as I feel the sharp metal point push against my shoulder.

“I would give you a last chance,” she whispers. “If I let you live, will you show your friend Mandrake where she belongs? Will you make her your slave and fulfill your fantasies with her?” The metal digs deep into my shoulder. The pain is blinding. “Just nod if you wish to live.”

I nod as hard as I can. My neck feels stiff and every limb hurts. I just want her to let me go.

She leans her face closer to mine and gives the awl a twist. “Will you make her do whatever you desire?”

I scream into the gag and nod again.

I feel her heavy breath against my coat. “Will you follow your dream and your beliefs, whatever it takes? Will you kill her too, if you have to? Will you kill your best friend to live?”

I nod, and her teeth gleam in the moonlight as she smiles. “I may even believe you,” she says. “You tried to kill me, Daffodil. You actually tried to do what you knew you had to do. I am proud, but …” She pulls the awl out and places the bloody tip against the underside of my chin. “Now I must to do what I have to do. You see, I want to live too, and I can no longer afford to trust you.”

I scream. Sudden searing pain stabs through my jaw and tongue.

“I dream too.” Her voice drips with desire. I gasp through pain and tears as she lifts the bloody awl. “Daffodil,” her voice trembles, and something lights up her eyes, a sinister smile as she licks the blood off her hoof. “I wish we could have dreamed together.”

I stare helplessly down the length of her body as she forces my head down. I feel the needle against my face, pressing against the soft skin. The gag lifts, and I scream. I beg as she watches my face …

She leans down closer. “You're my first,” she whispers … and stabs.

The taste of metal and blood fills my mouth and fills my eyes. I can see her chest, streaked in red as she pulls back. I sob and plead for her to stop … She only smiles and breathes harder with each stab and stitch of the needle.

I scream and kick out wildly, trying to tear myself from the ropes binding me. I feel the warmth of blood and the pain of each stitch before I collapse, drained and sobbing into Scootaloo's waiting hooves and comforting wings.

I cry into her soft mane, powerless to do anything more. Her wings embrace me, and I hear Apple Bloom's concerned voice behind me. I know what they're saying, but it was real. It really happened.

For how long we sit there, I don't know. I lose myself in Scootaloo's hooves and just let go of myself. Even now she's there for me, even when I couldn't have her, she's still my best friend. Why must I want her so? Why must I love what I can't have? I rub my face and sit up. I look up and see Apple Bloom holding out something. I feel something pushed into my hooves and look down at my doll, Stitch, with her button eyes and linen face.

She reminds me of Daffodil.

It's like staring into a woven and stitched mirror.

I hug the doll and cry.

I lift my face from the café table just enough to look up at the waitress as she sets down the cup and smiles at me. It takes me a moment to remember where I've seen her before; she's the mother of Fern and Skyline, the two fillies who told me about the house by the woods. I didn't know she worked here, but I guess that's no surprise.

I give her a not entirely convincing smile and nudge the coin on the table with a hoof towards her. “Thank you,” I say and drop my head back down.

“Are you alright, Miss?” she asks and drops the coin in the front pocket of her uniform. “You look like you could use some cheering up.”

“Mhmm,” I murmur and sit up. “I'm just tired. It's nothing, but thanks for asking,” I say in a flat voice.

She looks at me for a few seconds, then rubs her hoof on her cloth and nods with a smile. “You're welcome. Let me know if there is anything else I can get you,” she says. I nod, and she walks off to serve somepony else.

I stare into the cup of tea before me. The tea looks dark and uninviting. I reach out and poke the spoon as I debate whether to drink it. Why did I order this again? I should order hot cocoa instead. Hot cocoa might cheer me up. With whipped cream.

“The tea helps with the nightmares. It'll make you feel better afterwards.”

I look across the table. The early sunlight dances in her eyes as she smiles back at me. I lower my hoof back on the table and wonder when she got here. “Are you real?” I don't expect that I sound like I care much, really.

She spreads her hooves wide and smiles. “I am a dreamer, and the dream.”

“She told Daffodil about dreams,” I mutter.

She folds her hooves again and her face turns more serious. “A dream must be lived. That's what makes something real.” She nods at the tea. “Cocoa is good too, if it's real cocoa and not just sugar. But the tea is better. It's up to you.”

I look up at her. She smiles and shrugs. I watch her image flit away like an emerald shadow in the sunlight. I look down at the tea and pull the cup closer. I lean down and take a breath from the cup. It does smell better than it looks, I have to give it that.

I lean over and pull the diary out of the saddlebag next to the table. I put it down on the table next to the tea and stare at it. After a moment, I flip it open and pick up the cup, taking a sip as I read.

“1651, November 5
“It's been four days since I last saw Daffodil. Four days since she went with Midnight and disappeared. Everypony has been out looking for her, but I don't think they'll find her. Some still have hope, but I know she isn't coming back. I've been crying for days. I can barely feel anything anymore.

“Midnight is laying it on thick, acting all broken and grieving. I can't believe anypony believes that lying snake instead of opening their eyes to see what she’s done. She killed Daffodil! I know she did, but they don't believe me. They tell me not to accuse 'poor' Midnight of something like that, like she's the only one who's lost a friend. As if she lost a friend at all.

“If only I could prove what she did.

“Daffodil never hurt anypony. She was always so happy and full of life, always trying to lighten up everypony's lives. She did her best to be nice to Midnight. I know she really wanted to be Midnight's friend. How could Midnight do this to her? I've tried to understand, but I just can't. Daffodil didn't deserve this.

“— MM”

“1651, November 10
“Midnight will pay for what she's done. I swear I'll make her pay one day.

“Everypony treats her like she's such a poor little filly. She's got tons of friends now, even ponies who never really spoke much to her before. I've never seen her happier, but I swear it's like they're all blind. It's like they don't even look at her eyes and how they gleam.

“— MM”

“1651, November 12
“I found Daffodil. The bastard just left her out there in the woods. The animals had already been there. There was almost nothing left but bones, but I know it was Daffodil. I couldn't stop crying. I wish I could have given her one last hug or something. The bastard tied her between trees and left her dead in the woods! Was she still alive when the animals found her? I have no idea. I don't know what kind of monster Midnight is, but I swear she's not a pony. No pony could do something so monstrous!

“I made a fire and burned her remains where I found them. I made her a grave with a stone too, but I didn't bury her there. Daffodil wouldn't want to be stuck in the cold dark ground; she would want to fly free, as she did all her life. She never liked the dark, it always frightened her. But I wanted her to have a memory in this world, something more meaningful than the hollow grave they're going to give her in Dappleshore.

“I spread her ashes and bones over the forest. I kept a piece of her, however; it's sitting on my table as I write this. One day I'm going to set her spirit free. And one day Midnight will regret what she did.

“— MM”

“1651, December 15
“I've been staring at the moon through my window for the last hour or more. The face of the Mare seems to understand my pain, at least. I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open, but I can't stop thinking.

“Hearth's Warming has been quiet. I don't think we'll find much to celebrate this year. Even Socks seems to have lost his spirit and spends most of his time whining by the door. Does he miss Daffodil too? She always liked to play with him when she came over to visit.

“— MM”

“1652, January 1
“The years roll around, another taking the place of the last. If there is any justice in this world, this will be Midnight's last year, but I don't have much hope. They still won't listen to me. They tell me to leave Midnight alone, but I know the truth, and I can tell she knows I'm not being fooled by her fake tears. Every time she glances my way, her eyes laugh at me.

“Laugh at me now, Midnight … I'll laugh last, if I have any laughter left in me then.

“— MM”

“1652, January 28
“I swear it's like everypony wants to make it their business to ask me if I'm doing okay or need anypony to talk to. I keep telling them I'm fine. And I have Socks, who doesn't bother me with stupid questions when I'm sad. And I have the night sky, which is a great listener too.

“No pony would listen to me about Midnight, so why should I bother? They're all too blind.

“— MM”

“1652, February 1
“I was in Baltimare visiting my cousin this weekend. They have some interesting little shops there, and a much larger library than here in Dappleshore, where we don't really have any library, to tell the truth.

“I found an interesting pair of old tomes on spirits and the dead, as well as a stack of assorted works to sort through. I gathered everything I could find while I was there. With school and everypony being so bloody concerned for me all the time, I fear it's going to be hard to find time to properly focus on these studies, but I have to give it my all for my friend Daffodil.

“— MM”

“1652, February 11
“I think it was wise of me to keep some of Daffodil's remains. As sad as they make me, I feel they shall be the key to my goal.

“Midnight continues to make friends. She's spending a lot of time with these three fillies from school, what's their names? Anyway, I think she's lost interest in me entirely, she barely even looks at me anymore. I guess I should be thankful for that, but I won't feel too safe. She can be surprisingly clever and determined.

“— MM”

“1652, February 17
“Visited Daffodil's parents today. They're planning on moving away from Dappleshore. I can't blame them, but I'll miss them a lot when they're gone too.

“My studies are going slow, but every time I feel stuck I just have to look out at the moon. She's always there with me, waiting for the day.

“— MM”

“1652, March 26
“I got some more books from Baltimare. It's so tedious having to get everything from the city, perhaps it would be easier if I didn't live in this tiny backwater town of small minds. But I know I could never really leave Dappleshore behind. Not until my task is done.

“I don't know why our teacher is complaining. I still get perfect grades, so what does it matter if I don't listen in class? Or if I take the opportunity to sleep a bit while she's just talking stuff I already know anyway? Just means I can sleep less at night and spend that time on my own studies.

“— MM”

“1652, April 29
“It's been awhile since I wrote in this journal. I keep forgetting about it, but I don't have much to report anyway. It's the same, really, but one day I'm bound to make a breakthrough.

“Until then …

“— MM”

“1652, June 5
“ 'From the ashes of the dead, properly prepared, may be called up the forms of their spirits.' I keep returning to this one sentence in all my studies of these books, but there's something missing from all of it. I must dig deeper to find the way.

“I saw a shooting star tonight while I was staring at the moon again. I made a wish … I get the feeling that She is listening, or perhaps I'm deluding myself. Doesn't matter. She gives me comfort, even if she can't hear me or answer me.

“— MM”

“1652, July 1
“From the ashes of the dead … There it is again.

“The spirit needs blood to stay in this world, but the blood can not sustain it for long, so it must have more. I don't like where that is going. This is a dark road, but truth and justice is surely never found in the light. It hides in the shadows. I must walk carefully, lest I become a monster myself.

“There has to be a way without the blood.

“— MM”

“1652, August 12
“ 'Never call forth that which you can not put down again, lest it should command you.'

“Why was that hidden in a tiny and obscure footnote in the back of an old book on a largely irrelevant topic? I swear it's like no pony ever stopped to look any closer than the surface. It's a recurring theme. No pony ever looks beyond the cover or under the mask. If they did they'd all see Midnight as she really is, but instead she gets away with everything.

“Sometimes I think the whole world is broken.

“— MM”

“1652, August 29
“A body can sustain a spirit. A body with a beating heart and continuous supply of blood. It's so obvious, isn't it? How did I miss it?

“— MM”

“1652, August 31
“So what if you wanted it to command you? Seems straightforward, but I've come too far and gotten too close to leap to conclusions. There is no room for wrong steps on this road.

“— MM”

“1652, September 12
“Nemesis. Nemesis is the name, but for the life of me I can't find the proper invocations. Why don't I ever have the references I need when I need them? I suppose I shall have to visit that shop in Baltimare again. I swear the owner creeps me out, but it's rarely a wasted trip.

“— MM”

“1652, October 16
“It is almost a year since I last saw Daffodil. One year since that night when she stood outside my window. I still think of that night. I still see her haunted face in my dreams, begging me to help her.

“This will be my last entry here. I have found my path, and I must now walk it, but not as the owner of this book whose name is Mandrake Meadows.

“Daffodil, you were my friend, and I remain your faithful unicorn. It is fitting that I offer myself to you as your humble servant and vessel, to give you freedom and revenge, not for me but for you.

“I give myself to you, that you may have your freedom and dream again.

“— MM”

“Huh?” I look up and blink to adjust my eyes after having had my muzzle buried in the diary for a while. I am met by Mandrake's face looking at me.

“Come,” she says and holds out a hoof in invitation.

I take the hoof. “Where are we going?”

“To witness.”

“Witness what?”

I feel a sudden shake and blink as I stare into Apple Bloom's concerned eyes.

“You alright, Sweetie?”

I rub my head and look around the café where I've been sitting. I glance up at the clock tower to see that I've been reading for about two hours. My cup is empty, as are the rest of the pages in the diary. The sound as I close it feels like a heavy lid on my heart, like a coffin closing forever. I mutter something about lack of sleep and stuff the book in my saddlebag before standing up.

Apple Bloom places a steadying hoof on my back as if I might stumble and fall. “Cheerilee says to get ready for leavin’. Are you sure you're alright? I'm sure she'd let you stay here if you're ill or somethin’.”

“I must see,” I mutter and shake my head.

“See what?” Apple Bloom stops and looks me in the eyes. “Sweetie Belle, you're actin’ strange. We're really worried about you, you know. Look, I'll stay here with you too so you don't have to be alone. I’m sure Scootaloo will too.”

I shake my head again and smile, although it feels flat. “I'm fine. Really,” I assure her. “You don't have to worry about me. Come on, let's get ready.” I adjust the straps of my saddlebags and trot along the road back to the hotel.

Apple Bloom follows, but her eyes never leave me for long.

“Listen up, everypony!” Cheerilee turns and looks at us. “We are going into the swamp. Mr. Peat here will lead the way and keep us on the safe paths. You are to stay close to him and me at all times, and I want you to keep an eye on each other too so that we are sure no pony falls behind or wanders off the path.”

Mr. Peat from the museum tips his hat in a nod. “Aye, the swamp is no joking matter. It is a very dangerous place if you stray off the path and get yourself lost, but as long as you follow the path and stay together you will be safe.”

“Exactly,” Cheerilee agrees. “Now, are there any questions? Have everypony remembered everything?”

Apple Bloom is still watching me like I might run off or turn into some kind of changeling or something. I try to not be bothered by it and focus on the trip ahead. The sun is low in the sky, but it's still a while before it sets. It just seems darker because there are so many clouds. It's probably going to rain soon. The pegasi make it rain all the time here, but right now it's just cold and misty.

I walk near the front of the group with Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo is trotting along behind me. Peat is leading the way, talking about lots of things, but I don't really listen. Cheerilee is walking in the back to keep an eye on everypony.

We trot for about an hour through the swamps, making stops now and then to look at something or listen to Peat or Cheerilee explain stuff. It's starting to rain, and I'm happy to find that Apple Bloom hasn't been watching me quite so intensely for a while now. I don't want her to be so concerned for me.

I gaze out over the seemingly endless reaches of marshland. Somewhere to the east a thin blue line suggests the sea. Behind us to the north-west is Dappleshore and the forest, but it's invisible in the growing mist. I think I can just make out the silhouettes of mountains to the west, where the Badlands stretch out for miles and miles.

“Sweetie?”

I tear myself from the surroundings to look at Apple Bloom. Scootaloo looks around at me as well. It's getting very foggy. Some of those in the back are looking a little obscured by the haze. “Hmm?”

“Cheerilee says we have to stay very close,” Scootaloo says.

“'Cause of the mist,” Apple Bloom adds. “Are you alright?”

I nod and trot along, staying close behind the two. “I was just thinking about stuff,” I assure them and stare absently into the mist ahead as we continue. The fog rolls in from the sea and mixes with the rain to make the world look like a white and gray blanket.

“Where she dreams, I must follow.”

It's lonely out here in the grayness and cold of the marsh. I shiver and wrap my scarf around myself another time, sighing to myself. My breath comes out in clouds to join with the mist. I'm glad I have my scarf, it keeps me safe and reminds me of her. It is almost like she's still embracing me when I keep its soft fabric close to me.

It's easy to hear voices out here in the misty marshes, but I know they can't hurt me. I ignore the calls of ghosts behind me and follow my path, follow her …

“Keep dreaming.”