//------------------------------// // Prologue - Premonitions // Story: My Little Pony: Shadows of the Setting Sun // by Starswirl the Beardless //------------------------------// The first thing that hit her was the fear, the deep, overwhelming sense of dread that seemed to emanate from the very air around her. It was as if the world was shouting at her, telling her to run away and hide in the deepest, darkest hole she could find and never come out, and that’s exactly what she wanted to do. Her only thoughts were of escaping that place before whatever unknown horror that prompted her fear manifested itself, and yet she found it impossible to do so. She could neither run, nor turn to look over her shoulder, nor even scream out in terror. She was frozen in place, surrounded by the fear and the cold and the dark. It was no normal darkness that surrounded her on every side, enveloping her within its inky depths. This darkness was alive. No movement could she perceive within the endless black, and yet she could feel that it was not lifeless. The darkness clung to her tightly, almost stiflingly so. She could feel it enveloping her, caressing her, wrapping her very being in its chilly embrace. She was naked before its influence, powerless to defend herself or even to resist the grip it had her in. What hope did she have of rescue? What miracle could possibly deliver her from that place? For better or for worse, that deliverance would not be denied her. The harsh purity of the sea of black she found herself submerged in was interrupted by something entirely different. The nature of this thing remained unknown to her, impossible to recognize as either a separate entity, a concentration of that which surrounded it, or merely the fabrication of a mind on the brink of shattering to pieces. What it was and where it had come from she could not know. She could not tell if it had blinked into existence the moment she first detected it, or if it had been there all along, lurking on the edge of her perception. The only thing her feeble senses could convey to her was that she was no longer alone. Whereas the darkness had been universal, covering every inch of this world with its influence, this new force was finite, infinitesimal even, a single point of light in the expanse, although no mundane illumination did it provide. It burned through the cloud surrounding her, carving a path straight into her heart and soul. No ray of hope was this, however; no peace came to her already tumultuous mind. It did indeed drive back the fear, but this burning beacon only seemed to make the shadows of terror all the more dark. Neither sight nor sound nor touch betrayed the nature of this new player, but there was no mistaking its identity: pure, unbridled rage. A dark star, burning with an anger that sought to consume and destroy all in its path. She could feel its influence; she could feel its heat burning its way into her as if she had been thrust into a bonfire. It blazed through her mind, wild and directionless in its movement. Like a rampaging beast, this anger was blind to all around it, seeking out and attacking whatever it could with an almost suicidal zeal. Already weakened from fear, she felt as if she was doomed to be engulfed by the onslaught and destroyed. Her mind was at its breaking point; her sense of self on the verge of being swept away by the storm raging within her, but as preoccupied as she was with her new assailant, she did not fail to notice one more change in that bizarre hellscape that defined her existence. It was a small thing, barely a drop in the raging sea that was her tortured mind, a feeling that started as a tiny seed, but quickly grew large and powerful. If she were still able to make such observations, and if her sense of direction had meant anything in that world of pure emotion, she might have felt it looming over her shoulder. She could feel it grow, and she could feel it move. Time and distance were meaningless to her, but she could feel it racing toward her like a tidal wave, and as it moved, it continued to grow. The feeling that first signaled its presence began to grow in kind. It expanded in all directions and pushed back its rivals, clearing a way through the battleground of her mind. It was as if the whole world was pausing and turning to gaze in silence at the new enemy rapidly approaching them, an enemy that she could tell was not one that could be opposed. This new threat dwarfed everything else in that place; even the endless darkness, which before had seemed so infinite and insurmountable, now paled in comparison to that rising tide, and like a tide, it swept away anything that stood in its way, leaving nothing behind. She could feel its power; she could see what doom lay before her. There she was, trapped between flames that burned her and the flood that would swallow her whole, and yet she could do nothing do avert her fate. All she could do was wait for the forces at play to dictate her destiny. It was drawing close now, although how she knew this she could not begin to wonder. The world seemed frozen in anticipation of what must surely come next. The cleansing wave of power that swept toward her seemed to simultaneously accelerate to near-infinite speed as well as to loom over her, frozen in its unparalleled power and influence. It would be her end; it would destroy her, and a short eternity later, it did. The young mare jolted awake, her head springing up off of her soft, plush pillow. She reflexively pushed herself up on her forelegs, as if preparing to jump out of bed and confront some unknown assailant, or perhaps to flee from it. Her eyes darted frantically about the room, scanning for any and all threats, real or imagined. Her breathing was quick, coming in short, shallow breaths which, to the poor pony’s mind, sounded like the pumping of a forge-bellows. The only other sound she could detect was the panicked beating of her heart, a fierce pounding which she could hear as clearly and as loudly as a drum. Her mind was blank, having just been brutally yanked from the depths of her subconscious and thrust back into the waking world. The adrenaline pumping through her body had her on autopilot, concerned solely with protecting her from whatever might have been lurking in the darkness of her bedroom. As the seconds ticked by, the mare began to recover her mental faculties, fear and instinct making way for reason and perception. She began to recall who she was, where she was, and other particulars of her situation. Her name was Sunset Shimmer. She was the ward and protege of Celestia, the princess of Equestria. She was currently sitting in her bed, in her bedroom, in the west tower of Canterlot Castle, high above the capital city of Canterlot. She was safe, at least as far as she knew. Sunset raised a hoof to wipe the sweat from her brow. She swallowed, but her parched throat pained her as she did so. She turned to her nightstand, where she always kept a glass of water waiting for such occasions as these. The golden horn on her head began to glow with a faint blue-green aura as reached out with her magic. Despite being so groggy, Sunset was able to muster the concentration to grab hold of the glass and levitate it slowly across the gap between its resting place and her waiting hooves. She grasped the vessel and raised it to her lips, drinking deeply. The cool liquid soothed her aching throat and helped clear her mind. Sunset returned the now-empty glass to her nightstand, before pondering what had woken her. She had had a dream, she realized, although the details of it seemed to elude her. She remembered being in some dark place, devoid of light or substance. She remembered being afraid, deathly afraid, but of what she couldn’t say. After that, there had been more; a burning fire, a roaring wave of destruction, and then... A shiver shot down her spine as she attempted to recall the nightmare that had seemed far too real for her comfort. She shook her head, as if to physically dislodge the memories of that experience out of it. Sunset glanced around her bedroom, seeking anything that could help her take her mind off of her lingering unease. The room was lightly furnished, but what furniture was there was as opulent as one would expect of a bedroom in Canterlot Castle. Aside from her bed, which was fairly large for a pony of her size, there was a small wardrobe off to the side which held what little clothing Sunset possessed. Unlike some of the other mares of Celestia’s court, she had never cared much for fashion, although she was still expected to dress the part when she attended formal events. Across the room from the wardrobe was a small (by royal standards) vanity, complete with a large mirror that could almost fit Sunset’s entire body within its bounds when she sat before it. The vanity contained most of the essential grooming implements a young mare required, although it could have easily held much more if it had belonged to a pony who was more concerned with about image. In truth, Sunset would have gladly just rolled out of bed and gone about her daily business with her hair a tangled rat’s nest, but she knew that doing such would result in a stern talking-to by the princess should she be seen. Such lectures seemed somewhat hypocritical in Sunset’s mind as she knew for a fact that Celestia didn’t have to lift a hoof to maintain that ever-flowing mane atop her head. The most noticeable object in the room, however, was undoubtedly the large painting which hung over Sunset’s bed. It had been a gift, given to Sunset on her birthday a few years back by the princess herself. The scene depicted on that canvas was that of the princess looking down over the land of Equestria from her balcony. The pictured landscape boasted leagues of bright, green fields dotted with lush forests, rolling hills, and tall mountains. Sunset had seen the real thing countless times from the windows of her lofty tower, and yet the majestic portrayal given by the painting still filled her with a slight sense of awe whenever she gazed upon it. The sky that hung over that expanse was stained with red and orange, with the sun having just begun its descent below the horizon, in other words, sunset. The connection was not lost on the fiery-haired pony. From her perch in the castle, Celestia stood tall and proud, her visage a model of composure and concentration as she performed her most grandiose duty: the movement of the celestial bodies themselves. Sunset was one of the fortunate few to have seen the princess perform that awe-inspiring feat in a private setting. Although the painting was a masterwork in every other way, there was one detail that she felt fell short of perfection. The face on the canvas, while flawless from a technical perspective, failed to capture what she had seen on the real thing on multiple occasions. The princess was a master at presenting an image of calm and control, although Sunset had managed to see through that facade at times such as those shown in the painting. When the sun had fallen out of sight, and the pale light of the moon shone down into the princess’s beautiful eyes, Sunset sometimes thought that she could see something there: a twinge of sadness, or perhaps even regret. Leaving that fact aside, the image of Celestia was troubling for an entirely different reason. While at worst appearing stern and cold in the light of day, the darkness of the bedroom made her appear intimidating, bordering on sinister. A mild twinge of fear crept back into Sunset’s mind as she gazed upon that figure and upon all of her other normally benign possessions, warped by the shadows into unnerving caricatures of themselves. Slowly, she pushed back the bedding still covering her lower body and climbed out of bed, facing the darkness on her own four legs. Even the echo of the mare’s hooves on the polished marble floor seemed ominous to her, making the room feel even emptier than it was. Sunset carefully made her way across the room to one of her large windows, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder to check for threats she knew were not there. The window was covered by thick, velvet curtains which blocked out almost all light that could have otherwise streamed through from the outside world. Under normal circumstances, Sunset would have been grateful for this, but on that particular occasion, she felt that her room could do with a little brightening up. Sunset reached up and took hold of the curtains, throwing them back in one swift motion. To Sunset’s eyes, the pale light of the moon and stars that bathed the outside world was as bright as day. She breathed a sigh of relief as familiar sights came into view. Every day, she looked out from that window, but the sight was still just as grand as it had been on her first day living in the castle. Sunset was looking west, away from the metropolis of Canterlot, across the great expanse of Equestria. The view was not unlike the one featured in the painting above her bed, although no work of art, however skillfully made, could replace the real thing. Sunset lost herself in the landscape, drinking in every detail. She saw rivers that sparkled in the moonlight; she saw swathes of forest that covered the land like blankets. In the distance, huge, snow-capped mountains climbed high into the night sky, as if trying to reach out and touch the stars themselves. And to top it all off, hanging high above all else was the moon, the great orb that afforded her and the rest of Equestria the opportunity to enjoy such a marvelous view. Emblazoned onto its surface, keeping up her eternal vigil, was the Mare in the Moon herself. That equine image was as clear and well-defined as ever. Sunset had often taken comfort in the thought that the Mare was up there, watching over her and ponies like her while she slept. She knew it was silly, of course; the Mare was just a coincidence of nature given life by the imaginations of ponykind, like the constellations she shared her home with. Still, such stories did help soothe the minds of those ponies who feared the darkness of night, ponies like herself, Sunset thought. She turned her gaze away from the moon and back toward her humble abode there on the ground. The light coursing through the window bathed her bedroom in illumination, banishing the shadows that had played tricks on her mind. Now she could clearly see that the room was as empty as it always was, the furniture and decorations reverting to their mundane, nonthreatening appearances. Even the painting had lost its edge, once again depicting the princess of Equestria as the regal mare that everyone saw her as. Sunset returned to her bed, tiredness beginning to overtake whatever anxiety had possessed her. She once again covered herself in the soft, warm blankets and rested her head on the pillows. As she drifted back to sleep, she thought of those grand vistas that stretched out around her. She thought of the waters, the hills, and the leafy trees that swayed in the gentle nighttime breeze. She thought of the moon, and the Mare that hung over her, watching...and waiting.