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// Prologue: Bad Wheat 
// Story: Sundown 
// by SilverQuyll 
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He was running, but he wasn't really sure why. 

It wasn't raining, but he still felt the sensation of something coming down on him. All around him, he could sense hostility, danger...the sky was an unnaturally natural shade of orange, without a cloud in the sky. None of this was particularly terrifying, however. At least, not for a stallion like him. 

The lack of sound, though, was another story.

Not a bird chirping, not a leaf whistling, not a single gust of wind. Even this, though, wasn't impossible...but his lack of hoofbeats was. He could glance down and see them - his huge, sturdy hooves smashing into the mud as he ran down the seemingly endless trail. But he couldn't hear them. It was as if he was deaf, and couldn't hear a thing.  It was because of this unnatural silence that the inequine whispering caught him so off-balance that he fell down into the dirt.

Without a sound, he crashed into the earth below him, dirt and mud kicked up around his hulking body without a trace of auditory stimulation. But the whispers continued. He could hear his name, as well as every fear he ever had, seemingly at the same time, a thousand times on loop. Now cowering on the ground, he unleashed what he hoped to be a scream, but as he feared, no voice came out. The whispers became louder and louder, now bellowing in his ears, even though they still carried the tone of a whisper. He began to cry, before sobbing outright, at his pathetic attempt to console himself in this situation. He closed his eyes, and resigned himself to the whispers, which seemed to grow and grow to a near infinite volume, before suddenly cutting off completely.

The stallion stayed curled up, with his eyes closed, still weeping, for nearly a whole minute. The silence persisted. In its place, a low hum began to creep its way into his ears. It wasn't a vocal hum, but not a mechanical one either - it sounded completely unnatural, like something that couldn't be replicated. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and saw the feet of another pony. Immediately relieved to not be alone, he shot up in excitement, ready to greet whoever was in front of him. The other pony was not so excited, staring directly at the stallion with a blank expression, unmoving, her eyes fixed directly on him.

At least, they probably were. It was hard to tell without the pupils. 

The stallion froze in a mixture of fear and sorrow as he stared at the pure white voids on the emotionless mare in front of him, before realizing that she was not alone - several other ponies stood, circling the stallion, all with the same emotionless, iris-less stare. He recognized some. He didn't recognize others. None of that mattered, though, because none of them felt like themselves. The hum continued, as the stallion started to walk backwards, trying to find an escape. He might have found it, had his attention not been drawn to the wheat left of the ground. 

The wheat was a sickly brown and green color. Left to rot on the ground. Who did this? Who ruined the wheat harvest? The stallion was overcome with these questions.  As he was drawn, unnaturally, to the innocuous wheat, he began to see things - terrible things - things that may happen to him in the future. The wheat was ruined. Who did this? Who ruined the wheat harvest? 

The hum suddenly cut off. The stallion, in shock, turned around his head in the silence, only to find himself face to face with one of the white-eyed mares, who happened to take the form of his sister. She suddenly opened her mouth, and at the top of her lungs, she screamed.

Big Macintosh suddenly woke up in a sweat. It took several deep breaths and a look around his room, with its cold, natural colors, to realize that he was back in reality. Starting to calm down, he looked to his side, and saw his wife slowly wake up.

"Honey, what's the matter?" asked Sugar Belle groggily.

"I....I had a nightmare," stated Mac, still getting his grip on reality. "The wheat harvest was bad." 

Sugar Belle giggled. "Leave it to you and your family to consider dreams about bad crops nightmares."  Big Mac huffed.

"No, that wasn't all. It was...real scary. There were all these white-eyed ponies, and I couldn't hear a sound."

"Don't be ridiculous. Nopony is supposed to have nightmares. I haven't had one since I was a foal, and Princess Luna was still in the moon."

"I'm tellin' you, I had one!"

"Well maybe you woke up a little too soon for it to be taken care of. There's only one Luna, you know."

"Why in tarnation do you not believe me? You NEVER believe me anymore. Like that time I told you I bought the-"

"You DIDN'T BUY the grapes! I know you told me you bought them, but I KNOW YOU DIDN'T! You do this a lot, you know. You'll try and cover up your mistakes, like me not knowing you made a mistake is a better solution to your problems than just letting me accept them!"

"But I'm TELLING YOU,  this time, I DID have a nightmare! Why would I lie about that?"

"Celestia knows, Mac! But-"

"I had a nightmare, too."

The third voice took the couple by surprise. Big Mac turned to the source of the voice to find, unsurprisingly, his son, Big Sugar, standing in the doorway with tears in his eyes. "It was really, really, scary..."

Sugar Belle, now a bit perplexed, scooted over a bit on the bed, making a nice, snuggly space. "Well, why don't you come and tell us about it, dear?" she asked sweetly.

"Eeyup," agreed Big Mac. 





In Canterlot, Gallus flew briskly through the halls, with a strange mix of urgency and apathy. I mean, its not like there would be a real problem, right? Problems don't happen much anymore. Not after Grogar's defeat at the hands of what was now known as the Legendary Seven. He landed in front of Luna's door, and slowly pushed it open. 

The princess lay neatly on her bed. Gallus couldn't see her face.