There was little use of the way of life of everyday Coursers when the soul within the chest of the beholder longed for something deeper, something that would fulfill it better than any day in the sun could provide. It was the call that brought young foals to the edge of the clearing and staring down below at the depths wondering if they too could find the treasures and secrets that hid from view. Ever since the moment he could walk, Petrichor would stand upon the path that led to such glory and thought to himself that his time would come.

It had been several years since that initial thought and he had gotten no closer to such goal. Instead, he sat in the sunlight with all his fellow Coursers and spent his time trading various herbs he'd collect each morning. He had a knack for finding things that didn't want to be found. All that talent and not a step closer to where he wanted to expand it.

His mother would call him a dreamer. She spoke of the distant look in his eyes as he wandered aimlessly around his peers. How he didn't quite belong among the others. His father would call him a fool. That the surface had more than enough to provide him everything he could ever need if he'd just let it. Both of them had good intentions. Both of them made more than a living in the populace of their people. Both of them trusted the wrong people and in refusing to change, left behind a son who had no lasting tethers to stay on the surface any longer.

The dungeon whispered honey-crisp words to his ever-listening ears. It spoke of promises of grandeur and adventure if he so dared to take the plunge and breathe in the trapped moist air. If he fell for its siren song, its shackles promised cold pain and a brutal lesson on what it takes to survive. He'd never surface again until he was dying or dead.

He hadn't made friends, but he did have a business. He would have to discard it all if he followed his soul's desire. The only question was... was it worth sacrificing it all?

"One juicy berry, please." His head snaps back from where he'd been staring off at the path. A mare with soft yellows and a sort of glow to her stood ready with coin to accept his product. Her smile was telling. She came by often enough to know a little about this aloof, intense boy with dreams as dangerous as his temper could be when dealing with the unruly type.

"Of course," he pretended as if he hadn't been thoroughly distracted, "You already know the price."

She was not fooled by him at all. Shaking her head, her mane fell slightly esque. He pointedly ignored her stare as he gathered what she wanted. Placing the allotted coins down, she tried to catch his eye. It was mixed in the results. "Your eyes have never seen anything but rock and monsters since the day you were born. Why do you hesitate?"

"They wouldn't want me to throw it all away." He turns his back to her. That path stood as it always did. A lurch in his chest spoke of heartbreak. 'Follow me,' it begged. Swallowing, he shoved the feeling down.

"The surface awaits you if you lose your way, child." She stalks to his side and offers a look that speaks of something ancient he couldn't quite grasp. "If you can't find what you're looking for down there, come back and reclaim your shop. It'll sit in wait."

Confused, he looks over his shoulder but where a mare once stood there is now only wood and an eerie chill. Whipping around, there's no sign another being even had stood next to him at all. Trotting to the door proved that there was no palomino coat in sight. In his chest, another pull tries to reach a hand out.

'Follow me,' it sang.

Oh, good, he was going crazy now. Huffing he turned the sign to closed for the day and went to lay down and forget.

His dreams were no better as they tossed him about, turbulent and aggressive as hellfire. Ghosts of something he couldn't remember danced around him, grabbing at his limbs and yanking him with their nails dug deep into his flesh. They brought no pain, but in their pressure, it frightened him to think of what damage they could do if he let them.

'Follow me follow me follow me,' they spoke like a cacophony.

In the heart of them all, two figures stood like sentries. Torment was written in their face, it spoke of a life lived unfulfilled. A fate worse than death itself was to have wasted the life you were given drowned in regret. He knew those faces. The souls that reared him were married by means of arrangement. Both had dreams, he's sure. They gave them all up and settled.

Gasping as he awoke with a start, he rushed out of his small shop to the quiet streets of his home. It was late at night and not a soul was out and about as they slept in for the next day.

Down the road, a silhouette, a phantom, stood in glowing yellow light. A wisp? An omen of what's-to-come? Funny, it almost looked like her...

'Follow me,' she asks once, an echo in his head. As if entranced, he follows.

The path is overgrown but certain steps are well-trodden as adventuring Coursers came to and fro. It was a path he'd walked a million times but never weary from a travel well-spent. She led him at a distance. Her presence felt like a lead tied around his throat, but never once did she tug to get him to keep behind her. It was like once his legs started moving, there was no stopping them. The forest grew darker as the path opened up to the vault he stared at and memorized for years.

Blinking, the specter is gone.

Upon the precipice of a monumental change and a promise he didn't know was true, he did the one thing his parents never could. He leaped. The sunlight now rare to hit his fur again. His shop suspended in time by a whimsical mare who followed him like a ghost.

'Follow me,' It felt like coming home.