As the years passed, Candescent found himself needing less and less true, deep sleep. Long had the days passed when he attempted to stay abed all night, staring listlessly into the darkness. When he had tried to follow every pattern of his youth. Now, when night fell and rest did not call for him, Candescent wandered the gardens.

His family’s lands were sprawling. Generations of affluent Coursers had called this place home for far longer than he had been alive. Parts of their lands were bespoke and well tended, primarily those areas currently in use. Other areas had become forgotten and unkempt. Candescent’s garden of choice to wander was one of the latter. His own granddam had overseen its layout and care. He could still remember visiting as a foal and seeing her pale, graceful form leaning in to inspect the roses. Now it was his turn to cut a ghostly figure.

Candescent paused at the rose bushes. Their prime season had passed already. Autumn held the land in its grip and Summer was fast becoming a distant memory. Instead of petaled blooms, the bushes were dotted with plump rosehips and leaves turning from green to gold and brown. He watched them sway gently in the breeze.

The rising moon that would usually paint the wild gardens in pale blue-white light was red tonight. Candescent had been expecting the Harvest Moon for some time now. The air always held a peculiar scent when the Harvester was nearby and active. In his youth, he had gone to meet the Harvester along with all the other curious Coursers. Now, Candescent didn’t feel pressed to do so. He was surrounded by his own ghosts from a life long lived, he certainly didn't need to go out of his way to search for more.