In the Eclipse

by saiavinn

Rating: everyone
Tags: Adventure
Length: 2206

Monsters are born every day, due to any number of reasons in the magic of Equestria, but sometimes it can be a word just thrown out as a label. This is the story of a shadow. A monster.

Most shadows don't think, at least as far as anypony is concerned, but one shadow granted life under a red-tinted moon in the wastelands thinks plenty. It thinks that the label "monster" is rather unfair, but that's hardly a standing point with something that's literally a sentient shadow. Life is unfair. It's hard for life to not be unfair when any living thing either attacks you or flees in horror upon so much as looking at you, but a shadow can make it by; curiosity can occupy the mind for a long time. Sometimes long enough to come up with ideas. Sometimes long enough to make plans. Sometimes long enough to get desperate. After all, it's just a monster. Monsters don't need reasons to cause havoc. Anypony knows that. How sad.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-10-10 02:50:08 UTC

Born of a Shadow

Born of a Shadow

        Everypony knows to stay away from the wastelands. Monsters were born there, and anything born there that wasn’t a pony was a monster. Some were born of mixing blood, others were born of magic. One monster born there was, in fact, one of magic.

        Long after the rediscovery of the Elements of Harmony and the defeat of Nightmare Moon, but not quite so long after the reimprisonment of Discord, it was agreed upon that a rare event  would take place. Princess Celestia suggested to her sister an event of which they hadn’t the opportunity for since Luna’s return- a lunar eclipse. Celestia had insisted they perform the event in the harmony that was meant for it, together, as opposed to the infrequent times she’d performed the event herself over the past two thousand years, and she also insisted that it be done before the next solar eclipse. It was Celestia’s attempt to make a testament to her sister’s importance- something she’d done many times (in ways both blatant and subtle) since she’d gotten Luna back. Luna took the nature of the event (Equestria’s shadow crossing over the moon) with a certain degree of wariness, given that she even still feared the return of the force that had driven her as Nightmare Moon, but agreed, understanding her sister’s intent.

        The news of the incoming lunar eclipse was met with anticipation of ponies across Equestria (and some fear of the skeptics who still feared the princess of the night as Nightmare Moon). The Elements of Harmony, too, stayed up to watch the rare event. Indeed, it was, as any eclipse is, as sight to behold. The bright full moon rose into the sky by Luna’s control, and Celestia held her sun from behind the world that the ponies knew, positioned to cast a shadow for the moon to cross through. It was, of course, a clear night across Equestria, as every weather team had removed the cloud cover from the sky in preparation, but it was also a clear night in the wastelands beyond- an event dictated by mere chance. Anypony who watched the sky that night would see the moon slowly achieve the red hue across its face from the penumbra and afterward darken as it entered the darker umbra from the shadow of the world cast upon the moon. Some simply called it magic, those who studied would know of the specific details of the princesses actions involving the sun and moon relative to Equestria, and the superstitious would call it an omen to evil’s return, but no such event occurred. No evil force returned to Equestria, but in the wastelands, one monster was born.

In the untamed magic of the wastelands, the shadow of night pooled together- a viscous concentration of physical shadow, in likeness to tar- this shadow would normally fade away when exposed to the light of the sun for the next few days, but on this night, a different light shone on the puddle of shadow: the red light of the moon. The red moon shone on the inky puddle, which drank in the glow, magic mixing with the presence of Luna’s celestial body in the world’s umbra. The puddle slowly began to realize that it noticed the moon; it realized that it now noticed anything. It noticed the dry, dusty, rocky desert wasteland that it was surrounded by, it noticed the shallow hole that it had puddled up in, it noticed the black sky speckled with white, shining dots, but the most important thing it could focus on was, indeed, the moon.

The puddle of shadow could feel the draw of the red moon (a stark contrast to the otherwise colorless sky). It could feel the life the moon was giving it- mysterious, miraculous, wonderful. Soon, though, the moon moved on and lost the shadow on its surface, and it lost its red shine. The puddle of shadow immediately decided that it did not like this, although it really had no way of doing anything to stop it. It was simply and puddle of shadow, not capable of doing all that much, although it realized that it hadn’t actually tried to do anything as of yet. It had simply observed, but there was no longer much around to observe that it hadn’t already just seen, so the puddle of shadow decided that it would like to be somewhere else, so that it could observe something new. It did not know how to accomplish this feat. However, it remembered the moon. The moon had moved. How lucky it must be to be able to move somewhere else and see more than was just in one location… Could the puddle of shadow move? It did not know. It hadn’t yet tried. Trying seemed like an appealing idea. The puddle of shadow decided that it was going to try to move.

The puddle of shadow, although it no longer resembled a puddle quite as much as it did a streak now, loved moving. It had inched out of the shallow impression that had cradled it, and decided that moving like that wouldn’t help it find anything new to observe, so it moved faster. The streak of shadow flew across the landscape, surrounded by new things to observe as they raced by. It was wonderful. It was able to notice the new dusty ground, the new dusty plateaus, and the new dusty rocks, though the sky, strangely, remained the same no matter how fast it moved. It was rather disappointing. No, it didn’t stay the same, it was just changing very slowly. The shadow decided that this must be true because it had watched the moon move. In hindsight, it had moved rather slowly. Oh well, the streak of shadow still had new dusty ground to observe, and new dusty holes, and new dusty arches… the streak of shadow stopped. The puddle of shadow realized that everything it had seen all looked almost the same. That couldn’t be true of everything could it? The sky was different- the puddle of shadow would like to look at the sky closer.

The puddle of shadow found, to its great disappointment, that it could not simply go upwards, but remained rather glued to the dusty ground, and no nearby plateau went high enough to offer a closer view of the sky, which, it began to notice, was getting brighter now that the moon was leaving. It didn’t really want the moon to leave. The moon had given it life (or so it was fairly sure), so it liked the moon. There was something else coming up over the opposite horizon. It was bright. It was really, really bright! The puddle of shadow did not understand the brightness. It had been born under the soft moonglow, so the brightness of the sun was very unfamiliar, and the shadow decided that it was rather intense in comparison. The shadow felt tired, which was in itself an unfamiliar sensation, and one that it didn’t like. With the sun, though, came things that looked very familiar, which made the shadow happy. It saw itself!

The shadow, though tired and even more glued to the ground than usual, excitedly examined these others, though it quickly decided that they were not the same as it. Where it was solid black, these shapes crawled slowly along the ground only darkening where they were present (the shadow found comfortable refuge from the bright sun merging with these darker places). They greeted the shadow with only passive effort, as it seemed they were unconcerned with such details as curiosity or desire, however they were happy to share their stories with it. They told the tales of the things they were shadows of in as much detail as they could, but since their objects cared not for the world, neither did these not-as-dark-shadows. They did, nonetheless, tell of their dull pasts and dull circumstances, although the shadow soon found that the stories were all similar, just as the objects were (a detail that, again, bothered them not). The shadow wanted something different, but it could not see as much as it wanted to with so many large structures in the way, however, it found that it had trouble forcing itself up from the ground to look around. It was tired. It would find a place to rest until night. For some reason that seemed like a good idea.

The puddle of shadow felt better after a long period of doing nothing, sitting in those not-all-that-impressive-of-shadows, until the sun had gone down. It was determined to find something else in this world that was different. The streak of shadow raced along the ground with renewed vigor, and it decided that the darkness was more pleasant than the bright light that the sun bathed the world in. It just felt better, and the moon was out, but the streak of shadow was more focused on its current task. It was finding new things.

The first different thing that the puddle of shadow found was much more active than the stones of the wasteland; it was a living thing walking around on four hooves that were littered with holes and that had a black exterior. The puddle of shadow would later identify this thing and others like it as changelings. It would also fear them for sake of its first encounter. The puddle of shadow was so excited about finding such a thing that immediately went up for a closer look, upon which the changeling fired a green blast from its horn into it.

The splatter of shadow had never experienced pain before. It was a worse sensation that tiredness, and the splatter of shadow could not understand why anything would subject it to such an experience. As soon as the splatter of shadow had gathered itself together, it raced off, fleeing the pain-causing creature. This would be far from its last experience with pain.

Even after escaping the wastelands and entering the dense jungles around the edge of Equestria, the manticore it encountered was quick to rip through the shadow’s insubstantial body. The shadow’s curiosity was quickly being outweighed by its fear, and it decided not to present itself to living things, but it instead asked their now-not-much-lighter-than-it-shadows, which presented it with the lives of beasts. It learned of natural order, predation, territory, and ferocity, and it learned of mating, offspring, and caring. Suddenly the shadow understood why it was being attacked, and thus bore no grudge against the manticore or changeling. It had obviously invaded their territory, and they had reacted as was expected. However, the shadow had no territory nor the power to guard it, and it had never considered eating (it, in fact, had no mouth). Furthermore, despite the best show it could make, no slightly-lighter-shadow seemed attracted to the shadow’s mating efforts, nor did they feel any liking to it for sake of similarity- their dedications were to their creatures.

The shadow suddenly everything it was doing was based around one creature; surely there were others, so would their views be different? The shadow was curious again, so it would ask the shadows of various objects, plants, and animals of life. As always, these shadows were happy to provide all details on their things’ experiences. The shadow learned of survival, eating (carnivorous and herbivorous), existence, and other details of things with lives in the jungle and things that indeed were the jungle. The shadow felt very out of place. It had no claws or teeth, like that of a beast, or the survival skills of prey, or the simple outlook of a tree, or even a body as substantial as the rocks. It was nothing like anything here. The shadow was feeling lonely. Also, tired again. The tree’s shadow it asked informed it that indeed it had been light for a while now, even though the sun could not be seen through the canopy.

The shadow rested until it was told that the sun had set, feeling strange in the unnatural difference it bore to the things of nature. The puddle of shadow was very sure that this meant it was unnatural, despite never really been told this, which it realised was another thing that made it different from all these things; it wondered. It had never encountered a shadow of a creature that wondered about anything, which in itself was hard to understand. Was it the only thing in the world that wondered? It couldn’t be could it? How big was the world? Were there other creatures that wondered? All of these things were thoughts the puddle of shadow wondered about, which it found odd and… funny? It had never experienced mirth, and none of the things (nor it) were familiar with irony, so while wondering about wondering seemed a bit odd, it was simply just that. Odd. The puddle of shadow had been planning to try to imitate the animals somehow, but now it was curious again, something that even animals could understand to some degree, and so it headed out, determined to find something out in the world that wondered like it did. It would find them.