The Ballad of Merlon of Dreams, #7238

(An Epic from the Runiverse)

I. The Call of the Vale

When moonlight dripped on silent stone,
And dreamwinds sighed through wood and bone,
The ponies slept in the Silent Vale,
Yet peace had fled on a shadowed gale.

Their dreams were tangled, black, and deep,
Nightmares gnawed through holy sleep.
The Sacred Stables wept that night,
As hooves of stars lost all their light.

Then came the Druid, soft of tread,
With Bun-Bun bounding just ahead.
His eyes were pools of lunar gleam—
The Dreamer known as Merlon of Dreams.

II. The Road to the Dreamroot

He followed whispers through the fen,
Where wraiths of sleep devoured men.
Through bracken black and rivers pale,
He sought the heart of the Silent Vale.

A “dumb stick” glowed in his steady hand,
A beam of green at his command.
Through stone and gate its power sang,
A hymn of force that shattered chains.

And Bun-Bun’s fur, of stardust spun,
Reflected dawn before begun.
They came at last to the root below,
Where dream and waking twist and flow.

III. The Three Trials

First, he faced the Stall of Night,
Where ponies thrashed in endless fright.
He split their dreams with emerald flare,
And freed their hearts to breathe fresh air.

Next, he met the Root of Will,
Its tendrils coiled, its voices shrill.
He did not cut, but gently moved.
With patient hand, the dark was soothed.

Last, he walked the Mirror Hall,
Where doubt and guilt would rise and call.
It whispered, “All your dreams are lies.”
He answered, “Mirrors break and cry.”

And thus he passed through self and shame,
And woke renewed in purpose’ name.

IV. The Battle of the Wraithmane

Then thunder cracked in dream and sky,
A monstrous steed with burning eye—
The Wraithmane, born of nightmare’s womb,
Its breath the scent of ash and tomb.

It screamed, “I am all dreams undone!”
And stomped where moon and shadow spun.
The Vale did quake, the ponies cried,
But Merlon stood—Bun-Bun beside.

His beam became a spiral bright,
A bridge of force, of dream, of light.
The Wraithmane struck with horn and roar,
But Merlon’s will was iron core.

He chanted runes of moon and root,
And through the dark his power shot through’t.
Till green met black, and night was slain—
The Wraithmane fell, a sigh, a flame.

V. The Dawn of the Guardian

When silence came, the stars took note.
The Vale exhaled a silver mote.
Each pony bowed, their dreams made clear,
No shadow left, no trace of fear.

Bun-Bun leapt, a comet’s spark,
And vanished laughing through the dark.
Merlon knelt where roots entwine,
And whispered: “Sleep, your peace is mine.”

Now dreamers speak in stable stalls,
When moonlight down the rafters falls—
“If hooves grow still and nightmares gleam,
Call Merlon back, the Druid of Dreams.”

VI. The Eternal Number

For every Wizard bears a thread,
A number whispered by the dead.
And his—seven, two, three, and eight—
Is etched in stars to bind his fate.

When sleepers tremble, wide of eye,
And fear to dream lest hope should die,
A green beam cuts through mist and seams—
The sign of Merlon, Druid of Dreams.