In all the years that I have walked this world, I have held witness to this horizon from every angle. I have seen it from deserts awaiting the sun's scorching heat, the depths of forests so grand that the floor is bare of all green for lack of sunlight's grace, the lost home of the Caelian race that now rests upon the bottom of the sea, and the highest points of this beautiful sphere of stone and water that we have grown to call home. Each time I have been overcome with a sense that, as in many things, this was merely the beginning. No matter how often I have circled this planet, nor how high I have risen in the eyes of those who exalt my journeys, I still believe that there is a beauty in such realizations. They are accompanied by memories of those sunrises past, of lives and joys and sorrows no mind has the space to contain, and that I believe lends a poignant radiance to this. The birth of a new day. Do you understand just what importance such an event holds, my faithful student?
Stand close. Listen. Close your eyes and let your senses feel the world. We are enraptured in the day to day, in our struggles and triumphs, but it is in these moments that we have the luxury of a moment's breath. So breathe, my faithful student. Let the crisp air fill your lungs, hold it there. Allow its chill to caress your coat. You had not noticed it before, had you? And yet now it’s all you can think of, clearing your mind of everything else. Breathe out, and let your breath carry the weight of sleep with it. You are awake, truly awake, for the first time in nearly a week, my dear student. It has been a difficult time, full to the brim with studies and tests and all manner of antics, but none of that matters now. Breathe in, warm the air in your core, and breath out once more. Now listen.
Can you hear it? Deeper, further, breathe. Do not strain your ears, allow the air to carry the sound to you. First of the morning's blessings: The birds awakening. Singing together, in discordant harmony. In the garden below, the cardinals and sandpipers arguing over a nesting place. Further, carried on the wind, the crow of a rooster from beyond the walls. The farm ponies along the road must be rising soon, to begin tending their flock. Now closer, to the north. Listen, high above, you can hear the wingbeats of the draconic ambassador's approach. Breath in, my student, can you feel the reverberations of her wingbeats in your chest? Good. Now breathe out. What else do you hear? Yes, yes I can hear it too my student. It is the heartbeat of the city. The steps of its citizens, their rousings and greetings and goodbyes all mingling together. They too sing a harmony, though harder to hear from within than that of the birds. Theirs is a harmony of purpose. Can you hear it? Going to work, coming home, visiting loved ones or bitter rivals. They are all going somewhere, doing something, and all together. Open your eyes, my student, and see the city that spreads out below you. That is what you heard; Life.
Raise your head once again, my faithful student, look upon the horizon once more. Can you tell me what it may represent to them?
Very good. The morning is a new beginning. Whatever the aches of yesterday, this moment is a rebirth of spirits. It is one that few recognize in the moment, but it was what showed me the path out of my own sorrows. This is a story that I had intended to save for a much later time, my dear student, but I can think of no better time than now to tell it. Do not worry, I will keep it short so you may sleep once more. Young ones need their sleep, as do those better traveled. Sit, I have prepared cocoa.
I found myself... Lost, long ago, when the heavens shook beneath my sister's Wrath. I say Wrath with such importance, for there is no other word in modern language to describe such an event. The skies trembled where she stood, and the earth broke beneath her. Wherever she walked, all that lived fled, and all that did not was no more. In her madness she chose to lash out at all those who had ignored her gifts. And what gifts they were. I cannot, shall never, do her artistry of the heavens justice. Where I work, she danced, and though she did not see it, all marveled at its beauty. At her beauty. I apologize, there were no pictures in that time, and no portrait can compare to my sister in the flesh. Nor could any artist's rendition of that time come close to the destruction she brought upon the world.
It was beautiful, in its own way. She left villages barren, but the devastation she wrought carried awe in its excess. She always had a flair for the dramatics, I assure you, and I suppose this translated to her more vile deeds. But those villages were repaired, their citizens returned, and life continued. For many years I did not notice, as deep as I was in the chaos of leadership. Truly, neither of us were prepared for such an inevitability, but it is often a truth of agelessness that others will follow you for wisdom perceived from age. I was by no means a young mare, but neither was I yet truly wise. So I did not see the signs, the changes in my sister's demeanor. She grew irritable, irrational, and more prone to the direct approach to a situation where subtlety would have been vastly preferred. In truth, I should have known from that last, as she was always the more subtle of us despite her outward behavior.
I... Yes, I apologize. It has been many years, twice your lifetime, since I last spoke openly of her. In truth, even today I miss her. It is in the little moments, rather than the dramatic, where I notice her absence. In the morning meetings, where I know she would have a quip or soft comment to shake free the torpor of sleep. Or in the afternoon drill, where I look out upon the Guard and imagine her leading them through their training, granting them her strength and experience in such matters. Even in the walk to my quarters, I long to rest against her as I did when we were young, to hear her assurances and confidence once more. I do not believe I shall ever not miss her, so long as my eternal flame burns. Is it strange, my student, to miss one when I have loved more than any history other than my own could hope to remember?
No. No, I suppose it would not be. She truly is, was, my other half. My better half, were I to be honest. She rose so high, and yet... When I discovered how far she had fallen, I could not believe it. Truly, I could not. I believed it had to be an imposter of incredible power. A great Changeling Queen perhaps, or a monster of unfathomable ferocity, but never my sister. Yes she had been the more martially inclined of us, more adept with the arms of war than I, but we had sworn to never turn such artifacts upon the land. It took the sacrifice of my closest confidant, Captain Silvermane, before I could behold the truth. When I arrived at the village he had disappeared to, one rumored to be under attack, it was beyond any words I could hope to give it. To see the land rent from the ground and scattered among the clouds, the sky brought upon the homes in apocalyptic fire, and the very existence of many simply snuffed out... It was impossible to ignore any further. There was only one creature who could enact such devastation, and I had seen such in our battles against That Beyond the Pale Gate. A story for another sunrise, and one vastly more enjoyable I assure you.
And so I went to face her, and we fought. The city, this city, did not survive the bout. I had no intention of bringing about my full might ever again, but Ragnarok stood before me in all her splendor, and I admit I was not strong enough to defeat her while holding back. I was not strong enough even with my full power, for while I was the Untarnished, she had forever been the Invincible. Those titles are not truth, but they were indicative of what little most had seen. As she stood over my broken form, as she ground my horn to dust beneath her, I saw a chance. In that moment I drew upon the greatest magic either of us had ever discovered, and though I had never wielded it without her I am certain they wished for a resolution as much as I. It banished her, through me, and with that I lost my sister to the eons. I think, in that final moment, she chose to fight back against whatever had driven her to such evils. Perhaps even against herself, she chose to gloat and speak, rather than slaying or casting me out of this world. I believe, truly, that she wanted to be saved.
I did not move again until the sunrise. In truth I could not. She had struck deep, far more so than mere flesh and bone. But I could still raise the sun, I could still give the world the life we had nearly robbed it of. They found me soon after, and bore me to the Twin Dias of Eclipse. I do not know how long I laid in that crypt, soaking in the life of the world as it flowed free. I only know my thoughts, and the cycling of the sun and moon. That, I think, is what gave me the strength to carry on. They would have survived without me, yes, but it was always our duty to bear the weight of that sacrifice. It was always our duty to give them the opportunity to fully embrace their potential, without the survival of all life upon their shoulders. And yes, we prevent political scuffles from causing the near extinction of the land by Wendigo.
In time, I found my limbs once more felt. I raised them, and stood upon the funeral dias. I discovered my heart once more beat, and so left the place where my sister and I are to one day meet our end. My lungs had been made whole again, and so as I entered the open air I breathed once more. My eyes were healed, and I truly saw the horizon for the first time. My horn had regrown, and through it I felt the dance of sun and moon take hold. I was alive once more, and all around me the world had been reborn. Birds sang, distant villages rose from sleep, life was renewed. And off in the horizon, I saw the most beautiful light rise over the trees. It grew, and grew, and grew, until it resolved as the barest edge of the sun. I found I could once more weep, as I found what my sister had always loved about this moment.
Ah, little one, rouse yourself. Climb upon my back, and we shall take you to your bed. Our story has but one piece left, and many to be forged in the future. I have learned, time and again through trials eternal, that I am not alone. I had, in my youth, fought against such thoughts, but it was my first true sunrise that drove away such ideas. I had seen the loss of my Sister, the sacrifice of Silvermane, and so much more. But I was reborn, and I carried their memories beside me. I always had, even when they were with me, but I had been too blind to see it until I had lost them. That is why, my student, I wished to save this story for an appropriate time. Not for the bad, but for the good. I truly hope you see, someday, the importance of this. Though we may outlive those who know our names, and our homes may no longer be our own, it is those who we have known that give us the strength to roam that horizon. Just as they give all those beneath our sky the strength to embrace the rebirth of dawn.
Rest now, my student. My sister's light shall forever protect you, no matter where you may walk. I shall wake you upon the sunset, I have a very special lesson prepared for you tonight. I will be... Be... Right here beside you, my student. Do not fear, you shall know no fear in your dreams. I am here, as I always will be. You may dream safe, of fields and sunshine and stars and days long gone by. Dream my dreams, so you may know my Sister too, and bask in her light as I have for so long. Good day, my dearest.
Author's Note
Perception. Who, what, do you see beneath the sunrise?
