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// Sol - Living a Lie 
// Story: The Forging of Harmony 
// by The Sweezlenub 
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	Sol was a student of magic. She had been all her life. Her fascination with the arcane arts had begun at an early age, when the teacher at the magic primary school of Stormchant had taken her,  a foal left abandoned at the city gates, into her home. Her name was Rose Weathersong, and though like the rest of the city workers she had little free time on her hands, she raised Sol as if she were her own. With her free time in abundance, Sol’s foalhood had been spent leafing through vast tomes in the College, basking in every piece of information she could understand. She knew nothing of her parents, and Rose couldn’t provide her any help when it came to finding information about them. Sol was an anomaly, to be sure, for if there was one thing the unicorns of old were not, it was bad bookkeepers. And in a town of such meticulous bookkeepers, the question of her origins puzzled many. And this wasn’t to mention the closed nature of unicorn society, in which orphans whose heritage could not be traced were simply unheard of. If you were a unicorn, your parents had lived in Stormchant, your grandparents had lived in Stormchant, and so had their parents and grandparents before them. The burning questions of her origin had kept Sol searching for knowledge as a foal and they still did even now.
But she felt sick today. Sol had just sat through another harrowing hour and twenty-three minutes of watching Professor Windfall wrestle with his flagrant inability to teach students, and the discovery that her society and her entire life up to this point were based on centuries of falsehoods didn’t help. She was in training to join the monkhood after her discipleship in the College of Stormchant, of which she had now completed a year and three weeks, but she was becoming more disheartened every day. Worse yet, the teachings of discipleship were for the ears of future monks only, and while now she at least knew why this was, she was forbidden to mention a single word, even to her best friend.
The pure white pony departed the college and walked down the winding path leading to the village square. The snow on the dwellings around her glinted in the freezing sun. From invisible horizon to invisible horizon, clouds always filled the sky, and only very rarely did they give pause in the unremitting deluge of snow, which even now swirled bitingly around her face. Her red-violet mane was kept tied back against the wind, and a warm scarf drawn around her neck and chin to keep out the stinging ice. Red flags bearing the crest of Stormchant—a golden sun circumscribed with Old Equuish runes—hung majestically from the city hall as she approached the square.
“Hi, Sol,” said Teydin, approaching from the square.
“Hello, Teydin,” she replied. “How have you been?”
Teydin Lifechord was the village bard and Sol’s best friend. His lute hung on a cord around his neck and one foreleg. A frayed wool hat with an orange feather in its band covered most of his ragged turquoise mane, and his dark grey body was wrapped tightly in a warm but thoroughly patched jacket. Though it was currently hidden by his thick grey trousers, Sol knew his cutie mark to be the the spinning image of the lute he wore. As he trotted toward her, it was clear that he was anxious to speak.
“I’ve been fine, pretty good actually,” Teydin said. “My shipment from the Rivers has come in, and—” He whispered conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure they’re authentic—the manuscripts, I mean.”
“Hm,” said Sol. She was not listening, but she had learned how to appear as if she was. “Really?”
“... And this could be stuff from, I don’t know, the Grey Ages, perhaps. From the Lost Ages if I’m lucky.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, if I’m lucky, and I’m not going to say it isn’t a long shot, but,” he frowned. “I’ve got a feeling about this one. I don’t know why, but I’ve got a good feeling. This could be what I’ve been looking for.”
“Yeah.”
Teydin furrowed his brow. He could see clearly that something was amiss. “Aliens.” He said, testing her attention. “It was aliens.”
“Hm.” Sol wagered.
There was a pause.
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, fine.” Teydin sighed. “I get it.”
“No—Teydin, I’m so sorry.” Sol tried to amend their lost dialogue. “I’m just tired—I’ve got a lot on my mind. Please, I’d love to hear about your manuscripts.”
Teydin shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to impose it on you. It’s fine, really, I know you try, Sol.”
She smiled. Teydin was a good friend. “Thanks for understanding, Teydin, I’ve, well, I guess I’ve had a hard day.”
“You want to talk about it?” He ventured. “I can talk.”
“I know you can,” she smirked. They were rounding the corner into the market, which adjoined the city square. The smell of bread wafted through the still-gathering crowd as the babble of voices overtook the low howl of the wind. A food caravan from the Vale had just arrived. “I need to eat.”
“I can multitask.” He shrugged.
“It’s not like that.” Sol replied. “I wish I could tell you—I do—But I’ve taken vows to uphold the secrecy of the Stormchantry. I can’t.”
“Look, It won’t go any farther than me,” he urged. “You know that. And if what you have to say will hurt somepony, then you shouldn’t say it,” he said. “But if it’s hurting you to keep what you have to say bottled  up like that, well,” he paused. “I’m here to listen.”
Sol thought for a moment. She’d learned that day that the Stormchantry had been lying to her for years: for her entire life. After all, even before she entered the College of Stormchant she’d been a student in magic primary school and Initiate’s school, through which she’d been continually told that one day, one day, she would learn the secrets of the Stormchantry. Well, she thought, I know their secrets now. And she realized, too, that the lies hadn’t just been told to her; they’d been told to all of the students of the Stormchantry, to all of ponykind, all of whom were being manipulated by the archmonks. The vows she’d sworn had been to truth, dignity, and justice. And perpetuating the lies she’d been told were none of those things.
They moved in silence until they’d bought bread, cheese, and dried fruit for their lunch, for all of which Sol insisted on paying. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Don’t bother yourself about it.” Teydin thanked Sol graciously for her generosity. She knew what money he must generate playing on the street could not great, so she took comfort in knowing that he was fed.
They sat under a secluded canvas awning on the sidelines of the market on a chiseled stone bench. As they ate they looked out into the snow swirling in the courtyard. The food was simple, but somehow more satisfying for it. After some time, she was ready to talk.
“It’s a lie.” She said simply, putting down her bread. “My entire life is a lie.”
Teydin took a bite of his dry bread, chewed, and swallowed. He turned to face her.
“All my life I’ve worked and strived to be a monk in the Stormchantry.” She explained. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She motioned to her light grey flank. “My cutie mark is a sun and moon!” Tears began to well in her eyes. “But it’s a lie! The sky was never ours to begin with. I have no identity!”
Teydin put a comforting hoof around her shoulder. “Don’t say that.” He spoke earnestly and with conviction. “You’re the most talented magician in the village. You’re the most dedicated student that the College has ever seen.” His orange eyes looked into her bright blue ones. “Whatever lies you’ve been told, Sol, they don’t change any of those things. Because you’re real.”
Sol smiled. “That’s kind of you, Teydin. Thank you.” Then she stopped smiling. 
Before Teydin could ask what was wrong, the figure standing directly behind him whom Sol could now plainly see made a sound.