I’m on a roll here. Not even half a year later and I have made another drawing. Motivation always seem to appear whenever I am saddened it seems. Again, this is for Dev (which I still think won’t be able to see this).
 
Here’s part 2, I suppose.  

 
The next night, the stallion continued to wander the empty halls. It was eerily quiet. He was used to always hear voices around him. The comforting words of the mare or the laughter that would come after telling a joke. It was silent now. Nopony would hear his words, nopony would listen to his stories. He was alone. He always was.
 
The light coming from the broken lantern barely lit up the metallic hallways. Every so often, he would bump into a wall. In frustration, he set down the lantern and channeled magic through his horn. The results would be the same if he tried. Not even a spark would come out. Where ever he is in the dreaming world, magic was either non-existent or it was being blocked. He picked up the lantern and continued walking endlessly.
 
Everywhere he looked he was cast in darkness. He could not find a single lantern nor source of light. Part of him wanted to go back and get his busted but still working lantern but he knew he couldn’t turn back. It was too late and besides she needed his light more than he needed his. He kept telling that to himself anyways.
 
Not once did he assume that there was something in the halls looking for ponies. Years of experience of wandering the empty corridors, there wasn’t anything that would hunt him down. He didn’t feel any dangerous presence around him but he could feel something now. He thought of a twisted-looking being that came straight from an old book he once read as a colt. His fight-or-flight response was turning on and yet he still walked slowly.
 
Its presence was coming near him and soon he thought that it was behind him. It was bringing up its massive claw and suddenly brought it down upon him. The stallion closed his eyes and braced for impact but nothing came. After all, it was all in his head when he thought of a monstrous being chasing him. He knew where the monster laid. It was in him.
 
He believed he was a good pony. He believed he was a paragon of justice. When the fights happened, he knew more of himself than he could ever learn. He would always lie to himself, thinking he was in the right and never the wrong. He thought he was smart yet he found out he was dumb. He thought he was a good friend until the mare opened his eyes.
 
He was a nopony now. He couldn’t call himself by his name anymore. He was a nopony and he was content with being a nopony. The silence was all he could listen from now on.