The sun rose and fell, and it asked for no guidance. The moon was the herald of night, and it needed no herding. I know not what happened to change that, but perhaps the Children will need our guidance soon enough.

Tick.

Tock.

Time flows fluidly like a river; escaping your grasp as a fish will slip from even the strongest net. Even as the stream trickles by me now, I can see time moving on, eroding the foundations of the tallest mountains. Gods have risen in the wake of Our fall, but they always crumble away; the bits of foundation often used for another’s tower.

But there are always those who try to move against it; these are the ones who bring about ruin-- and also the fading of those who came before that time. The Children remember the greatest of mortals, but they do not remember the Spirits they prayed to. Spirits, Spirits of Earth, Fire, and Wind; of the fair harvest and of the lessened storm.

Now though, there are those who the Children name as gods-- of the Sun, the Moon... of Magic, and of Love...

They are not gods.

Alicorns, they call themselves. A fitting name, more so than ‘gods’...

The tome of many secrets lay open, its pages bearing spells of waking and binding. One such spell was being cast now, by the aura of moonlight and blue from which the tome hung.

“Wake, Spirit of the Second Age! Rise, and lend us thine wisdom!” Uttered the ‘Goddess’ of the Moon. She, personally, preferred the term ‘alicorn’.

Armor of strange make lay in front of her, armor made for a dragon. Silvery, intricate, and traced with white, the armor seemed to almost stir from the dust at her words. From all around her, a whisper sounded, “You... have awakened me, O alicorn of the Moon. What do you require of me?” The words were laden with a patient tiredness.

“I...” the alicorn paused, carefully considering her words. “I would ask that you could lend a fragment of your power to me, for I fear that I lack the ability to fend off opponents...”

“Discord, perhaps?” suggested the voice.

“Indeed,” agreed the alicorn.

The armor shook, glowing, burning orbs of blue appearing in the two eye slits of the armor. Like a dragon, the armor lifted its head. No longer a whisper, the voice echoed of wind, of air after the storm... of earth, fresh and tilled. “Perhaps... perhaps I will help you.”

In those times long gone, the Children called my kind ‘Dragons’. With our fall, shards of our essence must have been found by some of the Children, infusing them with our likeness- but cursing them with Greed.

The Dragons of old, as the few fragments of knowledge may recall, were offered gifts of wheat, of treasure, and of art in exchange for their assistance. I, at least, as a spirit of the Harvest and Storm, made the soil fertile for growth and brought rain to feed the crops.

But now, they have gone past the point where we are needed. Yet, I still live on. Perhaps... perhaps the Children still need me.

“Tell me, alicorn, what has happened since I last stirred? I know, of course, of greater threats... they trouble the land, and the land speaks to me.” the voice rumbled like thunder, echoing from the armor.

“The Elements have returned to the Tree,” started the alicorn, thinking.

“Ah, Luna. I had a feeling I recognised you,” interjected the Spirit. “And without the protection of the Elements...”

“I fear for Equestria’s safety. The Elements kept the land stable in the absence of Spirits such as you, and it seems we have many enemies. Without the Elements, the land may fall to ruin.”

The Spirit lay its head on armored forelegs, just like the dragons it resembled. “Children farm the land without my help, and alicorns are quite powerful. Your power should be more than enough to defend Equestria.”

Luna opened and closed her mouth a few times, struggling against herself. “I am barely stronger than the average Unicorn right now, and power is not returning, Spirit.”

Spirits, if they are not tied to the land around them or a suitable artifact, are very frail. I chose to bind myself to armor in case I lost my tie to the land, but it seems my fear was unfounded; Children plow the land and seed it, growing crops- apples, even. The Harvest continues, and thus power flows into me.

Immortals such as Luna are... different. Alicorns are mortals, yes, but they have a shard of primal energy in them, a shard that sometimes is bound to the world like a bandage, fixing a wound. They become immortal, standing in for a natural process they would normally only augment in their lifetimes.

This, as you would expect, gives them access to quite a bit of power.

“I see...” murmured the Spirit, like the soft rains pattering on a summer day.

“Can you help me, Spirit?”

The cave brightened slightly. “I am only a Spirit of the Harvest and Storm, Luna. I may not be very strong, but... I can lend you a bit of my power.”

Luna bowed her head, grateful. “I am in your debt, Spirit.”

The Spirit raised its snout, and the cave went pitch black. Gradually, a green glow illuminated the cavern, its source a small, green crystal in front of Luna. “Take it. All I ask is that you come here again next harvest, maybe with a bale of wheat...” the Spirit trailed off. “It has been a long time since I was needed.”

If I think back far enough, as far back as the beginning of the Second Age, I can remember when I moved from a small mountain to a town that another Spirit- a Spirit of the Winter and Ice, had recently vacated. I believe that Spirit is now known as the first Windigo...

Author's Note

Hey there!
It's been a while, but if you've read my other story, Darkness to Dust, you may remember I said I'd do a story about Luna at some point. This is that story.
Please, let me know what you think- and tell me if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes. I wrote this over the course of the seven hours, so... yeah.