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// Expositor by the Fire/Prologue 
// Story: A Silent Sun 
// by cthulhufhgan4 
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	“Mama,” Thistle said to his mother, “tell me about when you were a kid.”
The old mare turned from the crackling fire at the center of their hut, her eyes fixing themselves on her child in weary resignation. She had told him many times over that there was nothing in the past for him, and when he persisted, she had warned him that it was simply better if he never knew at all. But the child was eager to learn, and she saw now that he would need to know the world of her childhood if he were to understand the one of his own. Sighing, she placed a hoof on her child’s head, and stroked his mane as she began to speak.
“Oh, my sweet child,” she began, trying to find a way to explain something as strange as her own life. “Where could I ever begin? You want to understand the world, and think I have the answers. If only it were that simple. The past is a long and confusing story, and there is no simple explanation to it all. Only a mare of an equally interesting past could explain it all to you, and I have lived no such life. I could tell you of my home, and the lives of my family. I could share in detail the sights I have seen with my own eyes, and of the many people I met in the hills of my homeland. I could even share a link with you, to show you through my own eyes the earliest years of my life. But these would bring you no peace. They would not quell your questions, or help you understand the world around you. I never lived enough to see anything of importance. No, my tale will not be of my life, at least not the early years. Instead, let me tell you of the world as others knew it, so that you might understand why your life is so different from the one I used to enjoy.”
Thistle stared intently at his mother, his eyes wide with excitement. He had never heard anything about his own mother’s life, and now he would learn about the whole world! Abruptly, he blurted out a question, his desire to know too strong to hold it back.
“Where does the sun go at night?” he said, quickly covering his mouth as he heard the words leave his lips. He realized how silly the question was, without entirely knowing why it was silly, and blushed as his mother began to chuckle. 
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” she said, smiling. “It’s actually a good place to start. The sun and the moon are the foundations on which my culture stood, and I could not tell you of it without first explaining to you their mysteries. You see, the sun and the moon are living beings, just like you and me. Though you will never live to see it, they will age and die just like any of us ponies. Being the eldest living things, they both require the same respect and reverence that any pony would get from their own children. But they cannot reside in the sky at the same time, or they would destroy each other. So, they each chose a time of the day to appear to us, taking turns in the sky. That is why the sun disappears at night. It simply lands on the earth, and rests there until the night is due to end.”
“If the sun is alive,” Thistle asked, “then why doesn’t it do the things we do? Why hasn’t it ever talked to any of us?”
“The sun doesn’t live the same way as you and I,” his mother replied. “It speaks through the warmth it provides, like the moon speaks through the cool rest it grants us. But once, it could speak like us, and it did so through the mouths of its chosen disciples. They helped guide the sun and the moon on their voyage through the sky, and spoke their words to us. They were Celestia and Luna, the princesses of my people, and the laws of the heavenly bodies were enforced through them.”
“Then why doesn’t the sun talk anymore?” Thistle asked. His mother simply hushed him, and continued.
“There were other princesses, as well, vassals of the two great ones, but equally vital in nature. There was Twilight, princess of the morning and evening hours, who spoke for the stars, and Cadence, who ruled the hearts of mortals from her kingdom in the north. Together, they did the work of the heavens, and held the balance of the world from falling into the grip of chaos. For thousands upon thousands of years they ruled in harmony, bridging the gap between our people and the warmth of the stars, and for thousands of years we lived in the height of a golden age. I myself saw the capital city only once, and it was beautiful beyond compare. The mere sight of those marble walls spoke volumes of the majesty the stars gave us.”
The old mare turned back to the fire, her smile disappearing as she gazed into the flames. A look of wariness crossed her features, as if she hesitated in telling her son what came next. Slowly, she spoke, trying not to look at the eyes of her boy, filled with life and hope.
“It… could not last,” she said. “All things end, and so too did the age of peace we had so long enjoyed. There came a day when a darkness took hold of the north, when the crystal spires of Cadence’s realm shook and turned black, and whispers of change reached even my own home, hidden away as it was from the influence of the world. But even my sweet Appleoosa could not hide from the encroaching dark. It spread, a blight on the land, a faceless enemy without rhyme or reason, and wherever it went, decay followed. Certainly, black magic was its root, but it was the famine that killed the world. The trees of the Hollow Shades decayed, and the waters of Saddle Lake grew sour. The apple orchards of old Ponyville were stricken by blight and the beasts of the fields I called home scattered to the wind. So when we heard Canterlot had fallen, and we saw the grass of our hills turn brown with death, what could we do but run? We fled here, to the place called the Badlands, where we knew the blight would not follow. The taint left by Discord was too strong for even that death to penetrate, or perhaps it found no life worth taking in land so twisted already. Either way, it did not follow us here, and so we settled in this place of chaos, too afraid of the dark to ever leave. Funny, how such a strong kingdom could be brought so low by such a simple thing as disease and famine. That is why the sun speaks no more. It’s disciples are all dead or missing, and it cannot find anywhere those with the power to speak for it.”
Slowly, the mare turned to look back upon her son. His eyes were no longer full of hope and joy, but they still did not convey the hopelessness that she thought they might. Instead, they bore an eager anticipation, as if he saw something that had yet to come. 
“I’ll do it,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile. “I’ll make the Sun talk again, and I’ll bring you back home. I’ll make sure you Appaloosa again.”
“Appleoosa,” she corrected him, her smile beginning to return. “And I’m sure you will. But for now, you’ll need to get your sleep. You won’t be able to make the sun talk again if you don’t grow up to be strong like your own father!”
Thistle rolled his eyes, but obeyed his mother, and quickly hugged her goodnight before heading off to bed. The old mare smiled and turned back to the fire, shaking her head. She would always be amazed by the dreams of the young. How sad it would be, she thought, when the world took even that away from him.