in dreams i hear your name
and in dreams we will meet again

It had been a long time since the star girl had found herself upon the Halcyon Flats. She had partaken in the riftian war here, and she had stayed away due to her distrust for all that had come upon the arrival of the new lands. She happened upon this place, and decided to at least try to patrol to learn about the unusual terrain.

As it had been the day it arrived, this new land seemed deceptive, with the traces of illusions forming ripples in the air upon the glassy sheen of the water. Mist rolled over the Flats, only the usual softness of white was marred thick black, as if the darkness of night had possessed it. Swirling and churning, it reached out to her, called her forward, and in her foolish she answered its beckoning. The shadows engulfed her, and the forms that appeared in the twisting shadow teased her eyes before disappearing again into the shapeless black. But one wave of shadow, as it flickered and ebbed, seemed to form a solid thing. Silver eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of the being, unsure if it was an illusion or if someone else had been as foolish as she to enter the unknown haze. The form grew darker, even against the deepens of the shadows, and a flicker of amber eyes shattered her resolve. A harsh gasp burst from her lips as her ears twisted back, and it was as though a dagger sank deep within the trembling muscle of her heart. "It can't be," she whispered, taking a step back as fear and grief and regret formed a nightmarish cocktail within her gut. "It just can't be."

The form, haunting and impossible, floated towards her. She tucked her chin in, ears pressed flat, eyes squeezed shut. "No, no, no," she chanted, head shaking ever so slightly. She couldn't bear to open her eyes and see that it was him, and a piece of her didn't wish to see that he didn't really exist. Not anymore. But as she felt the trace of a ghostly muzzle against her cheek, touching the single tear that had escaped her right eye, she nearly fell to pieces.

- - -
I can feel all of my muscles tremble as I retreat into the woods. Fresh bruises blossom within my muscles, the pain seeping into each fiber that holds me together. Every step hurts, every breath I gulp in hurts worse than the last. I run blindly, knowing that whatever I may run into or trip over cannot possibly harm me more than my father did. We sparred, he pushed me, and I lost. I am barely past knobby knees and awkward limbs, and I know he expects more of me. No matter how bad I hurt, I know that bruises fade the same as hurt pride does. But what won't fade is the horrific wound inflicted upon my face.

My father had lunged and I had been too slow, and the scream that had escaped me upon his blow infuriated him beyond how I was unable to avoid it. Despite the blood that poured down my face, staining my cobalt pelt like rust, vivid against the white of my hocks, he lunged at me again. His heavily muscled shoulder impacted my narrow frame, sending me tumbling into the dirt. My face, lacerated and open and raw, turned the dust to mud as my face hit the ground. I remember looking up to see massive hooves scraping the air before flying down, narrowly missing my skull. "Nothing," he spat at me, voice full of venom and disappointment, "Nothing is all you will ever be until you grow the fuck up and learn some resilience." I rolled onto my stomach, legs shaking too poorly to lift me up. He towered, golden eyes sharp, continuing his discipline. "Do you think your enemy will hold back as you bleed? Do you think he will give a single fuck that he hurt your precious little face? Get out of my sight until you learn some proper self control."

So here I was, in unsteady legs as I careened through the woods away from his wrath. Still my face bled, the injury worse than a simple scrape. Pain and defeat tore at my heart, and soon my vision was blurred by stinging tears.

Despite my escape, I still wasn't alone. I heard another creature matching my pace, hidden by the thick foliage of the summer trees. 'Stop,' the voice says. It is gruff, a voice freshly past puberty, and familiar.

"Go away!" I sob, forcing my strides longer, faster, but there is only so fast my broken body can carry me. The beast racing me comes into view as the trees break, and he overtakes my speed and curves, thundering before me, before coming to a sudden halt. I can't evade him, and I don't want to. So I skid to a halt, and we stand in silence for a moment as we catch our breath. My head drops, and I can't stop the tears that fall, but they are quieter now, no longer paired with my gasping sobs before I managed to contain myself.

'KiKi,' his voice whispers, but I cannot look at him. He is stronger than me, older by two seasons, and has been victorious against me our last few spars. He is Father's pride, and I know should Father know he was consoling me, it would end brutally. 'KiKi, look at me.' But I can't. I can't look up and see his amber eyes, a reflection of my father's, only illuminated by the warmest light of summer. I can't show him weakness. He has never see me broken, he has never seen me weep, he has never seen me collapse into a million pieces after having my face torn wide open. So instead I shake my head, chin tucked towards my chest, shaking it back and forth ever so slightly.

It isn't until I feel the soft touch of his nose against my unharmed cheek that I finally open my eyes. He towers over me since his most recent growth spurt, and despite the way he looms, he also protects. "He almost killed me. I just want to be strong like you. I just want to be what he wants me to be. And instead, instead I'll always have a mutilated face to show everyone who lays eyes upon me that I'm weak. And now you think I'm weak."

A chuckle escapes him, and though I can tell it's nearly forced, it causes me to lift my head further to see what he thinks is so damn funny. 'Ki'irha,' he begins, and I know whatever he is about to say is meaningful, because he never calls me by my full name, 'You have always been mother's little star, you have always been our little sister, and you are the daughter that Father never wanted, but despite that, he knows how much you are capable of. We all know how much you are capable. The only one who thinks you are unable to overcome and conquer is you. If he wanted you dead, he would have left you to fizzle out beneath the moon you were born beneath.' My nose crinkles as his cliched words, and he laughs again. I feel the warm, slick feeling of blood oozing from my face, and this time he presses his muzzle against the wound. When he pulls away, the deep black of his nose is stained red. 'Pull yourself together. You are mortal. You bleed. We all bleed. And though Father believes that he is invincible, he bleeds as well. You need to find your strength wherever you can, because you will never be as strong as us. But we are buried beneath bulky muscle, fueled by anger and testosterone. You are quick, and you are smart. You can hide a dagger behind your back and no one would suspect it, and you're coy enough to see that your opponent is trying to hide something as well. I know you, KiKi, I've fought you, and I know it is easy to assume you can be trampled and knocked into the dirt based on your size alone. But you are so much more than you will allow yourself to be, and the longer you define yourself by the way others carve into you instead of learning how to avoid being taken advantage of in the first place, you will be weak. Just don't ever let them see you cry, and don't ever let them know you feel. You need to be deceptive and cunning and show strength where your size and appearance betray you.'

I know he is right, but it doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't change the fact I am small and fragile like a sparrow, and it does not mend the gaping laceration across my face, and does not make it any easier to understand why my father's hooves nearly crushed my skull because I will never be anything. Still, I force a shaky smile to my lips, and give an uneasy nod. I am unable to fool my brother, but he placates me anyways. 'I know you don't understand, and I'm sure you won't until you've grown into the warrior you can be. Besides, the sooner you shape up and start kicking ass, the sooner we can turn tail and we can all get out of here and escape this training camp. We won't leave you behind, little sister, we're just waiting for you.'

This time my smile is genuine, and I lean into his neck, burying my face into his mane. "I worry for the day we are no longer a family," I say, words muffled against the arch of his neck. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

'Probably somewhere with your horn stuck in a tree, with the way you were running around so blindly!' He laughs, the noise hearty and genuine, and he pulls away from my touch. 'And we will always be family, KiKi, and we will always be together. There is no reason to worry about something so ridiculous. Now come, let's get you to Mother. I'm sure she'll know how to fix up that awful cut.' He turns away and I follow, knowing that we will never be apart, and someday I hope to become what he sees in me. I know someday, despite all else, I will make him proud.

- - -
The general refused to open her eyes, because even though she knew what she saw before her, and even though she felt the ghostly trace of a cheek against hers, she knew it was no more than an illusion, an awful and evil trick caused by the magic that still remained here. She had tried so hard to become the person her beloved brother had encouraged her to be, but he wasn't here. He wouldn't ever be here again. He was what helped her overcome the years of abuse and harsh training, and he couldn't even see where she had ended up.

But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she would open her eyes and he would be there, real and concrete, apologizing that it had taken him so long to arrive. Lids loosen and lift, and she looks around. Already the shadow was beginning to dissipate.

And she was terribly and unsurprisingly alone.


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