The corridors bore a dim semblance of solitude. An eerie solitude that felt like it would attach to you if you got close enough to the walls. Caeu’m trotted cautiously for the corridors were very dimly lit. He was a little too far probably. From what he once called home. The- Well, now his, puppy remained at his side, tail forever wagging happily. The dungeon was vast, and though he had grown more confident in its winding paths, it still felt like an endless puzzle.

A faint noise echoed from further down the corridor—a soft, uneven clopping of hooves. Caeu’m stopped, his eyes narrowing as he listened. Another Courser? And with a nudge from his puppy, he followed the sound. But the pupper ran too far and at some point, Caeu’m lost him to the darkness of the dungeon.

But then he spotted him—a pale, slender young foal, smaller than him, standing in the middle of the dungeon corridor, his coat was white enough to shimmer slightly so with the dim light. His neck and head washed in a ghostly white that bled softly into the rest of its body, as if the mist of dawn clung to his form. An immaculate contrast to the subtle shifts of color painted on his body. A coat kissed with silver-blue hues along the topline, where the light seemed to dance in soft ripples. A gentle gradient of soft lavender brushed under its belly and his legs were dipped in a muted pale purple-pink. The entire horse seemed to belong more to the clouds than the earth.

The young horse looked lost — truly lost. His hooves shifted nervously against the stone, and his body attempting to tuck itself into the wall. As if he’d been there, waiting for a while, and he occasionally glanced around as though waiting for someone to appear. But no one did. But now his pale gray eyes with a ghostly hint of blue stared at the golden figure before him.

“Are you lost?” The pale figure did not answer. But it trembled slightly, so he closed the distance, slowly, carefully, as though the slightest disturbance might put the other figure on the run. the moment. The ghostly horse flicked its ears back, watching him warily. It reminded him of a skittish cat, poised to flee at any sudden motion. So, he softened his gaze, kept his movements small, and inched forward until their necks were touching. Their manes merging together into a shimmering moonlight, glowing in silvery-white strands cascading in each other’s neck.

Caeu’m’s dream was abruptly i cut short by a soft voice, Phoebe.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but we must keep going, I think the imps caught to us again.”

He wandered up, feeling the sweet faint of nostalgia and warmth ruminating in his whole body. He hoped this lingering trace would latch onto him and never leave.