//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: Age of the New Sun 
// by Foreshadow 
//------------------------------//

	The wind was cold and bitter, moreso than usual. Graham felt it through his feathers and it stung at the wounds along his forelimbs and haunches. He shifted his talons, grasping a solid stone nearby tightly and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had been a warrior for ages-- what felt like centuries, since before the creatures they called Nightspawn had infested the world. It had gotten no easier. 

From his perch along the top of a muddied cliff, he surveyed the land below and squinted into the sun rising of its own accord to the east. Forest and cold had taken this land called Equestria long ago. He could make out the speck that was a town called Ponyville, its windmill churning, a long ways away. He had been there once, as a fledgeling; before the Everfree forest had been forced to spread. 

His crest of feathers fell back as he grimaced a bit, clacked his beak, and then turned. Behind him, he could see the remnants of the Nightspawn. These were creatures of shadow and darkness, usually taking the form of a pony, though the body was barely solid, and mostly wraithlike. It was like some obscene parody of what they were once; like an insult to Celestia herself. Graham fluffed his dark plumage and strode into the withering, dark mess of the Nightspawn and grabbed one of his blades left imbedded in the back of one of the larger ones. Upon its removal, the creature defied logic and bubbled, turning almost instantly into a goo of utter blackness that seeped into the earth around it. The griffon cringed and slid the long knife into a sheath he carried over one shoulder. 

He could feel one more of them, like a whispering in the back of his mind. His golden eyes cast around the cliff top and a growling sound caught his attention. He frowned as he saw a dark shape stand from behind a stone, oozing a bit from a cut on its neck. The beast was shaped like a pony, but its eyes, a pale and glowing white, showed no sentience that he could see. It meant to kill him, and that was all. The Nightspawn pawed at the ground with a front hoof and bared shiny, unnaturally pointed teeth. Calmly, Graham stared the creature down. It was small; he didn’t even need a sword for this. With an unearthly snarl, the Nightspawn launched itself at him, its hooves scrabbling through the mess of its predecessors . He could feel its every movement; every harsh intake of breath. With little effort, he stepped to the side and, as it overshot him, he whirled and pinned it with one talon, snapping its neck with the other. As he drew back with a frown, the monster turned to sludge before him and the whispering was silenced. 

He resented the idea that his mind was strangely tapped into these creatures, but it was inevitable of his station. He was one of the few left to protect the land from threats such as this. Even now, he could feel a sense of unease in the air, in the water; in the land itself. He was sure something was coming, something big; something terrible, unlike the world had ever seen before. He turned back to the sun, barely any higher now, but despite everything, it gave him a little comfort. He would do his best to undo what had been done. 

He spread his wings wide, taking the cold wind in stride; then, swiftly, took off down the cliffside and towards the light.