It was late. The moon glowed a calm silver against the black emptiness that surrounded it. The vast expanse of dark only being decorated by a few, isolated and young, speckled stars. Despite being in their adolescence they were still a beautiful sight to be observed. If more were watching, the stars would surely galvanize the most distracted of creatures to stop and look up. This ceiling of the night was only being observed by one, however. Amongst the vast world below, whom this sky acted as a ceiling. One Alicorn lay idly on the steppes between two large, adolescent mountains. The tips of the vast rock formations, covered in snow and in the silver glow of the moonlight, they managed to twinkle slightly. Almost as if the mountain itself had stars on it‘s peak. The mare’s coat was a pearly white, matching the mountain snow, and her mane the brightest shade of crimson. She lay there, amongst the tall-- wild and unkempt-- grass. A stark contrast to her own immaculate appearance. And she was alone. For there was none other like herself in this new world; a world just beginning to bloom. The rivers flowed like the blood of a newborn and the winds blew calmly, as if the world itself was inhaling it’s first breathes. The only sound being the gentle rustle of the grass and gentle breeze of the wind, for the world had not yet learned to talk. The mountains were young and the vast oceans empty, not a mouse nor a bird, made any squeaks, or cry’s. For there were none. It was truly an empty world. Well, almost empty. The Alicorn slowly stood up onto all four legs. She brushed some loose blades of grass out her mane and took a slow breathe. The air was clean, as it should be. She didn’t know why to expect anything different. After all, the world was a blank slate, waiting to be filled.
“I suppose, I may as well get started,” The mare spoke. Her voice held in it a divine gentleness and loving tone. She turned to a random piece off the grassland. She smiled warmly; and without even bringing a spark to her unicorn horn, a house pulled and built itself out of the ground within mere seconds. The mare smiled, it was always fun to note that whenever she did this, it was always the first building the world had ever seen. Not a remarkable one however. A one room stone house, with a simple wooden door and tiled, triangular shaped roof. She lit up her horn, gently gripping the door into her magical grasp and opening it. Then slowly and calmly, walked inside.
The room was dark; which was understandable considering the time. The mare conjured up a simple wooden table to occupy the single room and several candles to help illuminate it. She closed the door behind her, more to keep the draft from blowing out the candles than anything else. The buildings interior was not much better than the exterior. A basic dwelling made of brick and mortar, but it was still suitable to serve it’s purpose. Now, it was time. This was always the mares favourite part, the time to begin. With a gentle nod to no one, she conjured out a simple, leather-bound book. The book was levitated softly onto the table. Once again, without so much as a spark on her horn, the mare summoned a quill and inkpot. They both sat flanking the book on the table. To most, this sight would not warrant any type of enquiry, however to this mare, it was one of the most perfect sights she could ever hope to see. The mare walked up to the table, still smiling. She was past the point of doubting herself. She knew that as long as she put her heart into building this world and making something she desired to be good, it would be good. The quill and book where not something she need fear, they were merely paper and feathers. The biggest fear she had was not if something was wrong, but if she herself forgot this fact. Forgot why she was doing this, and why she was building this land. She slowly levitated up the book and quill, it was time for the world to breathe.
With each stroke of the quill came new life. The oceans filled and the forests bulged: deer, mice, rabbits, fish, birds and many more filled the once empty world. Once this was done, however, the mare felt there was something missing from it. She pondered this greatly. What is it that’s missing? Then it hit her. It missed a soul. Putting away the book she was previously writing in, the mare summoned out another book. This one also leather bound, but on the front it possessed the head of one much like herself. In the past some had called her a god, a being that could create and fabricate whatever she wanted to what she saw fit. But this was not the case. Despite her countless powers and ancient age, she was merely an architect. A world could not be given a soul, nothing could be given one. Not even by one as powerful as herself. A soul can only be discovered or achieved by itself. Every long tale-- over time-- develops a life of it’s own. It’s own soul. All she could do was give it a little nudge in the right direction and maybe; if required, offer some advice. But first, every story begins with single line. “Now, how should I begin?” The mare scrunched up her face in thought. “I know…” She muttered to herself. Then with an elegant stroke, she started the long tale of this world, and the times that would be laid out before it. The only sounds being the gentle scratches of a quill against paper.
“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria…”
