Friendship is Magic

One day not too long ago, in a place not so far from here, a unicorn girl laid herself down with a book on the sun-warmed grass under a brightly flowering tree. The tree was planted in the flourishing castle garden owned by the Princess of Ponies, and a clear, cool river flowed through the garden. All the unicorns and other kinds of ponies who lived near the castle—for a unicorn is just a pony with a bump on its head—loved to drink from the river on hot days to cool their dry throats. And the tall, green grass that grew nearby, which all ponies love to nibble upon, was nutritious and delightful to taste.

All in all, the riverbank was a wonderful place for any pony at all to stretch out and read a good book on a summer afternoon.

Now, all ponies—and especially unicorns—are magical creatures with vivid imaginations, much more vivid than yours or mine. And the things that were really about to happen to this unicorn girl were just as magical as anything that ever happened in anyone's imagination.

But we haven't gotten to that part of the story just yet.

All ponies also have silly names, not ordinary, sensible names like Theodore or Melissa or Stephen. But their names are also majestic, and ponies take their silly, majestic names very seriously. I warn you: if you ever meet a pony, do not giggle when she tells you her name. For she is very proud of that name, and she will be very cross if you giggle.

The name of the unicorn girl lying under the tree—remember: do not giggle—was Twilight Sparkle. Twilight, for the violet color of the downy coat which covered her from the crown of her head to the cusp of her hooves; Sparkle, for the shine in her mane that caught the glittering sunlight on bright days and glowed with melancholy in the rain. Twilight, for the magical hour between the end of the afternoon and the beginning of the night, when all things are still and the world is haunted by friendly ghosts and white magic; Sparkle, for the mischievous drops of starlight that peek through the sky at dusk, waiting for the sun to go to bed. Twilight, for the harmonious dance of light and shadow that spins within our spirits; Sparkle, for the magical spark of life, the fire that burns without destroying.

Twilight Sparkle was a very special and very smart unicorn. And like all smart ponies, she loved to read books. So on this day, after she had gotten comfortable in her quiet spot on the riverbank, she opened the book she had brought and began to read.

The world upon the fulcrum, and two upon the balancing scales: White and Blue. Descended from above, Sun and Star, ordered and perfect in their heavenly motions. The circle of ascent and descent; the circle of life and death. Harmony eternal, the heart of light.

O world, woe, that you must be eternally yourself and none other. O living, woe, that you must eternally seek life and shun death. O love, woe, that you must eternally seek return.

The song in the spirit is the source of deep magic. If that song, through fits and wanderings inconceivable, turns to noise, then the deep magic departs; and a wail of destruction and despair fills its place.

Beware the fate of the Blue Star, whose song turned to noise.

The world upon the fulcrum, and one upon the balancing scales. The circle warped, the heart of light blackened. The Blue Star outshining the White Sun; a malignant kiss of cacophony and discord.

The blue eye, blood-red with hatred. The moon, the stars weep for you; the innocents of the heavens shed tears for you who once dwelt among them. Existence groans and labors under the sound of your noise, writhing and shrieking until its blasphemy is complete, when the thunder cries out in agony.

The suffering world on the unbalanced fulcrum, spinning away into primordial dark. The White Sun, whose song is not silenced, a song of strength and sacrifice. Her song awakens the old elements of the spirit, those called by many names in many ages, virtue and order and love and truth. All are equally true and fitting without contradiction, for they are the elements of harmony: harmony, which unites what is different, maintains good order, and gives birth to song.

The power of the deep magic stirs, and the elements of harmony converge.

Blue Star, bound by dishonest desire.

Blue Star, bound by joyless silence.

Blue Star, bound by disloyal treason.

Blue Star, bound by craven selfishness.

Blue Star, bound by destructive cruelty.

Blue Star, bound by the magic you knew and spurned, take your merited throne of death and reign there forever.

White Sun, hold fast the shackles that bind your sister. Take your throne upon the living world and reign there forever. Remember the elements of harmony, and your song will never cease.

Twilight Sparkle closed her book, and looked up with a thoughtful expression.

Even though they were sisters, they still fell apart.

Twilight Sparkle was a very special unicorn. She was the most specially favored pupil of the Princess of Ponies, and studied every day under the Princess's guidance. So when she looked up from her book and thought about friendship, she remembered the friends she had left behind in order to study with the Princess. She remembered the loving family she had left behind: her kind mother, her doting father; and she remembered her big brother, her childhood's best friend, who had gone off to pursue his own destiny, leaving her behind.

Twilight Sparkle thought about the story she had read, and wondered about the elements of harmony it had mentioned. The elements of harmony—something within her seemed to resonate to the cadence of the phrase, and an odd feeling of nostalgia swept over her.

It felt like coming home.

My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

1. Friendship is Magic, Part One