The darkness is the first thing to go.
I look out over the waves, my mane rippling in the gentle breeze. The soft sea air whistles over the shore, the light stretching across the surf until it just barely touches the sand. The shadows, formerly dark and distinct, now bleed through into the brightness, creating shades of grey that cover the land and sea alike.
A single streak of burning gold lies across the waters, shimmering at the touch of the Sun. Its colors fight in a glorious tapestry of crimson and violet; a blazing display of life and strength.
Now the Sun is at the horizon, descending past the end of the world and into the cold nothingness that lies below. The light is now finally fading, disappearing into nothingness. Soon, it will sleep, unknowing and alone.
The world is now covered in black.
I shudder.
But at the same time, a sense of calmness overtakes me. I feel my thoughts come together in song, their melodies humming below the fading light of Day. A silver spark alights in my eye, and the twinkles within my mane begin to shift.
The first shaft of moonlight peeks from behind the opposite horizon, alighting on my shoulder like an old friend. Its gentle chill is warmer to me than the light of the Sun; it caresses my body and mind, filling me with renewed strength.
In the back of my mind, I feel a light touch; alien, yet familiar. A feeling of vastness overtakes me, and I find myself within a starry void, with infinity all around me.
I look upon the one who has brought me here: a silvery sphere of cratered rock, awaiting my command with a great tension.
My mouth forms words, and I whisper to it.
“Rise.”
The small moonbeam is joined by another—and then just as quickly, two more form alongside it. Beyond the mountains of the Far East, the Moon is rising.
It lifts its great head above the world and looks down at me. I have known it for all my time, and it has known me for the same.
Yet I abandoned my duty once.
Never again.
The songs come once more, and I raise my hoof to each part of the sky in turn, directing the lights of night into their places. The great constellation of the Ursa Major takes its place in the celestial hemispheres, and roars as Starswirl the Bearded appears beside it. Equius Nocturne stands guard in the North, and The First Light shines above them all, its twinkling eye the brightest white of all.
I spend a moment looking up at them, entranced by the life that I have created, awaiting my touch in the heavens above. It was they who freed me from my prison, not even a decade ago. They, who waited a thousand years for me, even as another moved them through the celestial spheres.
The Moon continues its ascent into the sky, and the waters before me are painted a luminous silver. The calls of the sea-birds subside, their small forms floating out on the waves as they gaze out into the horizon.
My gaze is drawn up to the Moon once again, and I notice something. My Moon is full. Its face, unblemished by the mark of Nightmare Moon, shines in its complete glory, neither waning nor yet waxing.
A whisper touches my mind.
Luna.
It is time.
Nearly unconsciously, my legs coil beneath my body, and powerful hooves born of the physique of an earth pony push off of the damp sand, sending me high into the sky. My wings flare out, and the warm thermals of the sea lift me up across the night, letting the beaches below fade into tiny patches of color. I feel my magic release me, the Moon sending me off with a final nod of approval. It will continue the journey from here.
I soar over forests and valleys, their majestic tops like tiny needlepoints from my place above. To my left, Equius Nocturnae offers a salute from the depths of the Frozen North, his starry helm reflecting from the ice-pocked ridges below his hooves. I pass the Mount of the Wyrm, known in these present times as Smokey Mountain. I wonder for a moment if there are any ponies ascending its banks—the children of Equestria are brave creatures, questing for goals that may be forever beyond their reach. Yet I see none of the amber-yellow lights that would indicate a camp, its inhabitants huddling together for warmth and protection. The snowbanks at its tip rustle in the chill winds, but I ignore the cold. Temperature is no problem for one such as I.
As I pass over Canterlot and Ponyville in turn, the yellow lights of civilization glimmer back at me like innumerable fireflies. Below, ponies are getting ready for bed; chatting with one another or simply enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps they are sharing a meal, or looking up at the stars.
I hope that none of them are alone.
I shiver, but not for the chill of the night air. I lift my head and give my wings a powerful pump, propelling myself forward through the skies. The scarred ridges of Foal Mountain pass beneath me within moments, and I soon hear the rush of water once again.
The mighty waters of Neighagra Falls are a monument to the power of nature, but they are not the reason I have come here this night. Instead, I gather my wings around my body, closing my eyes as I let myself fall into the purple mists that cloak the peak. The wind rushes past my ears, singing as it embraces me and carries me beyond the thunder of crashing water.
My hooves glide over the air; though I do not open my eyes, I can see through memory. I feel the break in the water, and slide through it; the bramble of cave-thorns that would catch many a pegasus in midflight, I weave through with ease. I have been down this path many times before, and though it stood without me for a thousand years, it still remembers my presence.
A breath of warm air caresses my cheek, and I hear the voices of birds. Letting my hooves slowly touch down onto the soft grass, I open my eyes.
“You came here quickly.”
I turn, and there she is. Her eyebrow is raised in a bemused expression, and a small smirk crosses her face. I feel a rush of warmth at the sight, a small sunbeam touching my heart through the clouds of moonlight.
Tia looks up and talks quietly, as though to herself. “The stars are indeed quite beautiful. I do wonder why The Priest is beside The Lover tonight.”
I feel my cheeks tinge with a light blush. “An artistic touch,” I mumble, letting my gaze pass over her shoulder. The trees behind her rustle in the cool night air, casting shadows that splay across the ground.
“As beautiful as the sacred grove itself.” Tia nods to the space around her, her mane flowing gently in the solar wind that surrounds her.
“Sometimes I wonder, sister,” I say, drawing out the words. “How sacred is this grove, really, if only us two know of it?”
Tia’s smirk fades into a soft smile. “I hardly think it matters if they know of it consciously or not.” She raises a hoof to her chest, letting it rest upon her heart. “They know it in here, and that is what truly matters.”
“And yet we return, as if to remind ourselves.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her stiffen.
I open my mouth, hesitantly at first, but continue nonetheless. “But for what purpose?”
“To pay our respects.”
I turn toward her and sigh. My breath comes out as a shimmering cloud, brushing over the top of the grass. “...Of course.”
Celestia kneels down, her lithe body resting on the wildflowers below. She has already moved on from my momentary objections. “Isn’t it beautiful? As pristine and sublime as the First Day.” She holds out a hoof, gesturing about the grove.
My eyes follow her hoof, and I grunt in agreement. The small waterfall, descending from the cliff above, pours with a sweet song into the Reflecting Pool below. Rocky walls come up all around us to form a bowl, their sides swarmed with vines and brush. To one side lies a small forest of trees, and to the other, a garden of wildflowers. As my eyes pass over a small sapling of the Sycamore tree, a lone cardinal chirps at me from its branches. In the back of my ears, I hear the buzzing of a hummingbird; I cannot see it, but its wings hum quietly beneath the other sounds of the grove. The scene is untouched, glistening in a fine mist of tranquility.
This is the Birthing Place. As it was, as it is, and as it always will be.
I do not want to be here.
“So how is Twilight?” I ask, turning to face my sister once more. “Are her studies progressing well?”
Celestia laughs quietly. “She is doing wonderfully, Luna. Soon, she may even be ready for your own tutelage. She may be the most gifted of all of my students thus far.”
“I recall you saying that of Starswirl the Bearded as well.”
She pauses. “Well, yes. Of course. He was truly astounding to watch; never before had I seen a unicorn with his capacity for true understanding. His spellwork was something to behold—you saw it when he first used the Lilium Ignis spell that he created.”
Something in my thoughts makes me pause; I stop, searching for the right answer. “Tia,” I saw slowly. “The Azaleum Ignis spell was a creation of another of your students—Umbrea the Elder, I believe.”
Celestia’s brow furrows, and she puts a hoof to her chin. “But what of Umbrea’s ritual, the Iris ad Nocturne?”
“The work of Sunshine the Radiant.” I raise a hoof to her shoulder; my voice and touch are gentle, but she flinches at my touch. “Your first student.”
When next she speaks, her voice is strained. “I...yes. Of course. How could I forget?”
“There have been many,” I remind her, stroking her mane. Yet she shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
“I have had many, but I was a constant in their lives—Princess Celestia, the Bringer of Light; teacher and friend.” She trembles lightly beneath my touch. “Yet how can I deserve that honor if they are not a constant in mine?”
“But they always had somepony to look up to,” I say. “And they still live on in your heart and mind, even if the details have become fogged over the centuries.”
Celestia sighs, exhaling slowly. “Yes. I suppose that is true.”
Satisfied, I let her sit for a moment more before withdrawing my hoof. We both look up to the skies, the stars glittering in our eyes.
An owl hoots in the darkness.
“I wonder what it would have been like,” Tia murmurs, her voice masked of any kind of emotion. “To have somepony like that ourselves.”
I feel something ugly rising within myself, and push it down quickly. “What do you mean?”
When Tia speaks again, her voice is pensive; drifting and thoughtful. “Somepony to look up to. Somepony to turn over our troubles to. Somepony who we could trust would make things right.”
I swallow. A touch of irritation leaks into my voice, and my words are cold and pointed. “But that would be foolish, sister. We are the Princesses of Equestria—there is no other. I would have thought Discord showed you that.” I scoff. “To hope for anything else is but a foolish dream.”
“Yet I must be strong for you, Luna.”
My eyes go wide. My breath stops.
“What?”
Celestia shakes her head. “Forgive me, sister. I did not mean to offend.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my shaking hooves. A burst of red flares up in my vision—and then subsides just as quickly, leaving behind a deep sense of shame. “No. Of course not.”
Tia sighs, removing the crown from her head and placing it upon the ground. I offer a skeptical look as she lets it sit in the dirt, the jewel in the center glinting dimly as a cloud passes over the Moon above.
“I know it is foolish.” She is no Princess of the Day now; there is no regality or glory to her proclamation. “But sometimes I cannot help but wonder—what if there had been somepony there when you...fell?”
I wince. Old memories die slowly.
She does not appear to notice it, though, and continues. “My little ponies have parents and friends; their elders can step in amongst fighting and disharmony, helping their children to come together once again.”
“But there was nopony there for us.”
My voice cuts through the air like a knife.
Tia refuses to rise to my bait. “Yes,” she says, as serene as ever.
I know that voice is a lie. She is no more at peace than I am.
“There was nopony there for us,” I repeat. “And there never will be. Why waste time worrying over things that can never be true?”
“I wonder what she would have looked like.”
I freeze.
“A mane more beautiful than the Sun; more lustrous than the moon.” She pauses for a moment, and I know that her mind is rippling like the waves of the Reflecting Pool. “A voice full of hope, and love; never leaving, and never running away.”
I raise a hoof. “Sister—”
“And what would he have been like?” She is far away now, I know. She is no longer here in the grove with me. Instead, her mind is free; floating in the endless abyss of the Before Times. It would have been a simpler time, for her. “Strong, perhaps? Honest, but understanding?”
I can take it no more. “Tia. We have no parents.”
“What would they have said to us?” she whispers, her mouth barely moving.
“And we would not need any!” I shout over her. “Whatever made us has never been there when we needed it! We have made it this far on our own, so why must we contemplate anything more?”
“What would we have said to them?” Something glistens in the corner of her eye, and with some shock, I realize it is a tear. “What could we have said?”
“Nothing.” My tone is still cold, but the rage is beginning to subside. Instead, a dull sensation creeps over me, clinging to my throat.
She laughs and shakes her head. “I want someone to say the words. Just three little words.” Her voice catches. “Even someone to say them to, just in return.”
She looks up in surprise as my wing curls around hers, holding them tight. “But I do love you, Celestia.” I know the sensation now. It is guilt, lying in wait for me once again.
“...I know.” She is reserved, now; almost scared by what she has said. “But that first day—do you remember it?”
I do.
Birth is an event that few animals remember clearly. For many it is a maelstrom of chaos and confusion, of wailing and tumultuous screams. For others, it is a sea of darkness, gradually reddening with the pigments and hues of life.
For me, it was as simple as opening my eyes.
Those first, faltering steps out of darkness, and into life—this life; this grove—were ones that I will never forget. I stepped out from between the trees, their dark leaves whispering in my ears as the shadow of the Moon danced among the roots. A wide pool, mirrorlike in appearance, glinted not a foot away from my hooves.
And across from it stood my reflection.
She was my size; perhaps a bit larger at the shoulder. Just as my light-blue mane fell flat over my neck, her pink one fluttered in a light breeze, her hooves depressing the garden of wildflowers beneath. And in that moment, I knew that she was my light, just as I was to be her darkness. She was my equal: my opposite, and I was hers.
Yet then we looked up at the sky, and there was nothing there. No light, no darkness, and no life. Only a deep grey, stretching for miles in all directions. Nothing to greet us. Nothing to welcome us.
Nothing to love us.
On that First Day, we raised the Sun and Moon for the first time. They had waited for us; awaiting the first touch of magic that would raise them up from the horizon and into the sky.
We watched them for what seemed like hours, the two celestial bodies chasing one another across the sky. White and black flashed, burning crimson and deep indigos blurring over the clouds above. There was no Night; no Day—only the sheer joy of being alive.
“Luna.”
That was the first Name.
I looked across the pool, and saw her. My reflection.
“Celestia.”
We nodded in unison. It was time.
As the Sun chased the Moon across the sky, the Moon took refuge beneath the horizon, sinking below the endless waters at the edge of the world. The Sun, proud and strong, began to take its place at the opposite horizon, rising above the green world below. But the Moon would come back, at a time when the light would recede, and the shadows would stretch across the fields, the wind singing with the songs of the seabirds.
I return to the grove; the present is now, and the First Day is long since past.
And then I remember the waves.
“They’re like the ocean,” I blurt out.
Celestia snaps out of her similar reverie, and stares right at me. “What do you mean?”
I take a moment to think, but I am sure. “The ponies. The Sun and Moon rise above the ocean every day and night, but it is beneath those waters that they descend when their time comes.” I clear my throat. “They shine upon the waves when they are at their zenith—”
“But the waves catch them when they fall,” Celestia’s eyes widen with realization. “Luna, you—”
“Do you remember when Twilight Sparkle rescued you from my shadow?” My eyes are alight, burning with pride. “How she refused to give up on you, her mentor? Have you forgotten when, all hope seemingly lost, her and the Elements of Harmon remembered their true natures and defeated Discord himself?
“Don’t you see?” Something unfamiliar tugs on the side of my face, and it is a moment before I recognize it as a smile. “We may not have parents to say those words to, but we have something even greater. Twilight Sparkle, Starswirl the Bearded—all of Equestria, even.”
“They are my little ponies,” Celestia says slowly. Though I know she has said it many times before, it as if she is tasting the words for the first time.
I hold her close. “They are our little ponies, dear sister.”
She nods.
There comes a piercing cry.
“Philomena!” Tia calls out as the phoenix alights on her shoulder. The bird gives me a sharp look, preening the scarlet flames that comprise her plumage. “I thought I told you to stay in Canterlot,” she scolds, and Philomena looks as ashamed as a bird can be. I almost snicker.
Philomena prods Tia with her beak, and my sister scowls. “No, I didn’t bring any bird seed for you—I left a whole bag back in your room.”
Philomena wilts.
My snicker erupts into a full-blown laugh, and I fall over onto the grass, rolling with mirth.
Tia looks over at with a quirked eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
I have no idea, yet my laughter redoubles.
A mischievous grin crosses her face, and she jumps me, Philomena alighting to the branches above as we tussle on the ground. Celestia tickles me—the devilish fiend—and I push her off and into the ground, rubbing her pastel mane into the dirt. Our laughter melds into a rush of joy and glee, Philomena’s strong harmony echoing in the grove.
Finally, we stop, tumbling to the ground and breathing heavily. After some time, I finally open my mouth to speak.
“I can’t remember the last time we did that,” Celestia says, interrupting my train of thought. I scowl at her with an expression that undoubtedly resembles a foalish pout, for all of the giggles that she erupts into. Above us, the stars twinkle like tiny diamonds; the constellations of the Smith and the Mother look down at us from their places in the night sky.
A few minutes pass in near-total silence. In all of the grove, there are only the sounds of our breathing, Philomena’s soft chirping, and the whisper of the wind through the brush.
“I wonder what words there are to say, now,” she wonders aloud finally. I hum to myself, looking up to the skies.
“I don’t think there are any.” I point, gesturing to the Moon. “I think those are all the words that we need.”
“Nothing to say...”
“But everything to live for.”
I turn my head to the side, and as we exchange knowing smiles, Philomena takes to the skies. Among the deep, dark tapestry of the night, a single flare of yellow and red dives and weaves, creating a pattern unique from all of the stars above.
And then the sky begins to brighten.
I glance over at Celestia, and find her kneeling on the ground, her horn alight with a golden shine. I look out to the western horizon, and find the Moon descending beneath the Equestrian plane. It leaves one gentle touch on my thoughts, and then disappears below the mountainous peaks.
I crane my neck to the east, and there I see the Sun rising—a perfect sphere of raging color, all contained beneath a skin of discipline and regality. Tia lifts her head high, her wings flaring out to the sides.
With the echo of a thousand whispers, the Sun is lifted up from the waters, carried on the backs of the waves below. I close my eyes as the Day returns once more.
I think I can hear the sea-birds calling.
