Night falls over Equestria. The stars are out, though a little askew from where they should be. They never form constellations anymore. Sometimes the sky will get lucky and form one or two the way they should be, though the rest simply refuse to cooperate. Like restless children without their chaperone. A full moon looms overhead, the Mare in the Moon’s gaze seeming to pierce the inhabitants of the night. The night simply feels… dead. Foreboding. Nothing like its splendor almost one thousand years ago. Nothing like the beautiful comfort the night had all the way back then. When you could navigate the land using the stars as your compass, when you could spend hours getting lost in the white speckled night sky, more stars revealing themselves as you stare deeper. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you could see a little white streak fly through the sky for half a second; a falling star. The moon was pure white, and had a calm blue luminescence that made the land look almost like a new place under a tranquil color scheme. But no more. The stars remain dull, and inaccurate. Falling stars are non-existent; mere old mare’s tales from the time of yore. The moon, now horribly blemished with Celestia’s greatest shame, simply doesn’t glow as brightly anymore.

The night has never been the same without Luna. Celestia is reminded of this every single time she has to raise and lower the moon. It eats at her, and she can’t escape it. It simply isn’t fair…

The dim moonlight shines through the windows of one of the most extravagant towers in Canterlot Castle. Within, the dim blue light reveals the beautiful bedchambers of Princess Celestia.

The moonlight shines through the glass doors to the balcony, revealing the lush red carpeting soft enough to sleep on. The walls are a soothing purple, with intricate celestial-inspired golden designs lining the ceiling. A large white ponnequin alicorn the approximate size of Celestia lies in one of the room’s corners, wearing Celestia’s golden princess regalia. A large purple door is to the left of the ponnequin, leading to the wardrobe of largely neglected -though very nice- clothing and formal wear. On the opposite end of the wall is another purple door, leading to the royal washroom. Between the two doors lies a very large and extravagant looking four-poster bed, with rose colored blankets, start white sheets and mattress, and golden frame. The bed’s golden supports and roof are golden and intricately engraved, with silky red curtains hanging on either side of the mattress. The headboard is a golden-bejeweled design of a star in the middle of a large sun. Within this bed, shifting slightly, is the sleeping form of Princess Celestia.

Contrary to a popular rumor (Celestia has no idea how it spread) Celestia does, in fact, sleep. She also dreams, just like everypony else.

Currently, she’s dreaming that she is in court. Of course like all dreams, the details of such are scarce, and very inconsistent. There is a pony speaking to her at the bottom of her throne, which at the time seems a lot larger than it should be, though the pony’s words escape the princess. In fact, the pony’s details seem to change every time she focuses on something else.

Celestia idly gazes around her throne room, noting how empty it seems to be. How the banners are too long and oddly colored. She also notices how- wait.

Celestia then finds herself within the throne room of the Castle of Royal Pony Sisters. She shifts her gaze down to the detail-absent pony below, still speaking.

The pony’s details are now so clear. Beneath her lies a blue alicorn, with light blue hair, wonderful teal eyes, and a crescent moon cutie mark. She wears a black tiara, a black crescent moon breastplate, and light blue metallic horseshoes; the tangible opposite to Celestia’s own regalia. Beneath her is her sister, Luna!

Wait, Luna is crying. Why? What is she saying? Luna is within day court, pleading to Celestia. She wants to keep the moon up- just for one day. So the ponies will see how wonderful and beautiful her night is. Celestia’s little Lulu looks exhausted from being up in the day- this must be important to her.

Luna is falling apart from the loneliness. She feels that should the ponies see what they’re missing, perhaps some will become nocturnal like she. Perhaps the ponies will love her and her night! Perhaps she can ask for somepony else’s opinion about her constellations, or perhaps she could have somepony there to watch the meteor showers with her! Just one day absent, so everypony can see what they’re missing!

Celestia shook her head. No, she would state. The ponies are far too skittish. They’ll believe the sun is never coming back. They’ll think their crops are dying, they’ll think the world is ending. Even for one day, even if forewarning is made, it cannot be done. Celestia felt a buzzing in the back of her mind.

Luna looked crushed. Her exhausted and aggrieved mind overwhelmed with sorrow. Surely her sister could have understood? But no! Celestia is the worst of them! Always so arrogant, always strutting about within the daylight, absorbing praise like a horrible sponge. Where is Luna’s praise? Who loves Luna? Nopony. Not even her sister cares for her, or her night.

The castle throne room seemed darker, as if night had suddenly taken hold. The brickwork seemed older, the banners and rugs disheveled. The buzzing in the back of Celestia’s mind increased in intensity.

Celestia cringes at the buzzing in her mind. It means something important, but she just can’t tell what. She clenches her eyes shut, before opening them again. The throne room looks even worse than before, the darkness overwhelming, banners burnt and tattered, brickwork outright falling apart. Beneath her no longer stood her sister, but a demon wearing her sister’s skin and power. The Nightmare, taking her sister’s negative emotion, feeding on it like the parasite it is. Nightmare Moon will show all of Equestria how beautiful the night is! They will love the night, and they will banish the sun!

Nightmare Moon is not her sister, but a spirit. But the spirit came to Luna, and was her only friend. How could anypony blame poor Luna? All of those nights- sobbing alone within her bedchambers. Wishing upon her own stars that she could be loved. She had her wish answered; the Nightmare shared her plea. The Nightmare knew how to get ponies to love her. The Nightmare loved Luna unconditionally. It whispered to her; why, you could have all of the love? Maybe it’s time for your arrogant sister to be the unloved one! You can be loved. All it takes is your silent obedience…

The buzzing increased to unbearable heights in Celestia’s mind, as she saw Nightmare Moon levitating into the air in front of her throne, meeting her eye to eye. Where is my sister, Celestia cried! Nightmare Moon only laughed. Luna is gone, she said. As you soon will be, along with your precious sun!

Celestia had to stop her- she wanted her sister back! She would give her the day of night! She would let Luna have many twenty-four hour nights! Just please, give her sister back! She wielded the Elements of Harmony, as they would purify her! The Elements would bring her back! The massive prismatic beam hit Nightmare Moon, gripping her soul, cleansing it! Luna will be back!

When the smoke cleared, the buzzing in Celestia’s mind still carried on. Nightmare Moon is gone, but where is Luna? Celestia looked up into the sky, the roof now blown open in the throne room. Etched upon the full moon, was an image of a mare. The Elements purified nothing- they fixed nothing! She felt overwhelming hatred for the Elements. They took her sister from her! They took Luna!

The buzzing was reaching a crescendo, as Celestia fell to the floor, defeated. No, the Elements did nothing. It was Celestia. She had driven Luna to the Nightmare. She did this. She sent her away. Celestia is to blame, it is all. Her. FAULT!

Celestia shot upright from her bed panting, a cold sweat clinging to her coat, tears rolling down her cheeks. She cast her gaze out of the balcony’s glass doors, seeing the Mare in the Moon looking back at her.

Nightmares are her fault too. If Luna was still here, she would chase them away, as she always did. Nightmares scarcely existed before Luna’s banishment. They didn’t even have a name.

Celestia kept her aggrieved gaze towards the moon. She allowed a sad smile to grace her features.

Thirteen more years. She’ll be back, and Celestia can finally apologize. She can finally tell Luna how much she loves her.

Celestia noticed the buzzing in the back of her mind has not left since the dream. She closed her eyes, and examined the odd feeling.

Her eyes then shot open. It’s an alert to a sensory spell in Sundial’s bedroom!

--0--

The four-year-old Sundial is not having a nice night. He has tossed and turned in bed all night, but he can’t seem to get comfortable.

That, and his eyes and ears ache. His eyes feel like something is just behind them, pushing outwards. Closing them does not help. His ears feel like they’re being roughly picked by a unicorn’s horn. Not a pleasant experience.

Sundial puts a pillow over his head, trying to relax his eyes. The ticking wall-mounted clock still resides within his bed, on a pillow to his right. Sundial realizes that no matter how hard he presses the pillow to his ears, he can still hear the ticking perfectly. He usually has to sleep with his head right next to the clock to hear it tick, but now he can hear it no matter what.

Sundial pressed the pillow as hard as he could into his ears, but the sound would not go away. It only became louder. Soon, other sounds were becoming loud. The fabric of the pillow case rubbing against his fur sounded like an earthquake. He could hear a low organic rumbling, as if he was in someone’s stomach.

It took a moment for Sundial to realize that the drum beat was his own heartbeat. The rumbling his digestive track, the ticking becoming louder, yet smaller ticks and grinds could be heard. He listened, clenching his eyes shut and grinding his teeth as the orchestra made of his own body and a clock continued to pound on his eardrums.

His eyes became even sorer, and despite keeping his eyes shut, the world was not black. The world turned gray, steadily increasing in brightness. He could see wrinkles in the gray, and he could focus upon the texture of the gray. He chances with opening his eyes, to see that his room is now bright. Everywhere there should be darkness, the color is simply drained away. The moonlight tinges things with a familiar blue, but places of darkness remain bright. Simply… monochromatic. Sundial’s eyes continue to hurt as he focuses on the rug, seeing individual red bristles turned gray in darkness. He can see a small insect, flying around the room. Sundial’s eyes track the little thing, and can see all of the details on it as if he were looking at it through a microscope.

He can hear it buzzing, he can here each individual stroke of its wing and the air moving around it as if it was a dragon. He can hear the scuttling of what could be a beetle on the outside of his window. The beat of his own heart pierces his eardrums, beating against the insides of his head like hammers.

He clenches his eyes shut, and the world turns gray yet again, with the odd texture taking over his vision. It was then that Sundial understood what the gray was.

He did not dwell on that, as his mind was far too busy dealing with the pain in his ears. He could hear… everything. Every single little thing going on in his body. Every single insect’s buzzing and scuttling. He could hear more drum beats, and breaths. He could hear the heartbeats of other ponies in the castle. He could hear their breathing, their mumbling. No, not just the castle, the city.

A night silent for everypony else became the loudest thing in the world for Sundial. He wanted to scream in pain, he wanted to cry, but he kept quiet, cringing in pain the whole time. He did not want to know what it felt like to hear his own scream like this.

He could hear the clatter of a massive glass object slamming against something wooden, followed by the massive splash of a tsunami. A giant trumpeted curses from atop a mountain, his voice mightier than a dragon roar.

Across the city of Canterlot, somepony dropped an inkwell. That pony followed up by quietly muttering curses.

Sundial’s hearing dialed, he could hear individual houses, he could hear other’s heartbeats. It seemed that his hearing selected random locations and trumpeted their sounds into his head. He could no longer hear the ticking of his clock. He couldn’t hear his own heartbeat. He couldn’t hear the blood dripping from his ears, soaking into the pillows.

He heard someone stub their hoof on the other side of Canterlot, but he couldn’t hear himself screaming.

He couldn’t hear his mother teleport in the room, nor could he hear her shouting his name in panic. He could hear everything he shouldn’t, but nothing he should.

Sundial was finally shaken from his pain induced haze when he felt large hooves wrap around his torso, pulling him into an embrace with his significantly larger mother. Suddenly, he could hear the ticking again, he could hear his heartbeat, and even his mother’s heartbeat. Nothing else.

He opened his eyes to see that his mother’s horn was glowing, and around them there was a yellow bubble-like shield. The shield and the area around Celestia’s horn were in color, though everything else was still grayscale. Except his mom’s eyes. They were in perfect color. Her pale magenta eyes were still colored even though they shouldn’t have been. Her eyes are luminescent, he realized. Color is light… grayscale is darkness. He can see in the dark. Just not color.

He had stopped screaming, and the pain had largely stopped, but the throbbing was still there. He inwardly winced at every tick the clock within the bubble made. But slowly he was starting to like the ticking again.

The more Sundial concentrated on the sound of the ticking, the more normal it sounded. He honed his hearing into the proper range with the focus of the clock. The ticking providing a constant that he can hone in on.

Even staring into his mother’s eyes hurt less. In their luminescence, they were so much stranger with his new sight. They always had a misty ethereal look to them, but now it seemed it kept going on forever. Sundial seemed to zero in on her ethereal irises, constantly focusing and looking further into her eyes. They are endless. Her eyes own their own little pink misty world. He could stare into them forever, and find that no matter how far his gaze focused in on them, he would never find an end point. His mother’s eyes are windows. Something to focus on. Something to hone in on.

He stopped trying to focus so hard. He tried to relax his eyes, expecting everything to blur away. Instead, his area of focus stopped analyzing her endless eyes, and stopped picking out individual hairs in her alabaster fur coat. Everything was normal again, though sharper, brighter, and a lot of grayscale where darkness should be.

He noticed his mother had yet to say a word. She simply looked at him, her gaze showing deep concern. If he had been looking earlier, he would have seen an expression nopony ever saw Celestia with. An expression of panic.

“What was wrong?” Celestia whispered softly enough that were his ears like they were normally, he would have missed what she said. He heard her perfectly now.

Judging from her whisper, she seemed to have grasped that the problem was sound. It’s probably why she put up the soundproof shield, after all.

It was when Sundial followed Celestia’s gaze to his pillows did he realize that the entire time he had been in pain, his ears had been bleeding profusely. Both the pillow his head had been on and the pillow that had been on his head had massive splotches of blood in the middle of them. It was at this point did he feel the warm wetness that covered the fur on both sides of his face and all around his ears.

It was after this did Sundial look around the room. Everything was frosted over in the entire room. His bed and blankets had quite a few scorch marks from electricity discharging from him during his fit of pain, but his freezing effect must have put out the flames before they could do much more than leave black rough spots.

Celestia said nothing, perhaps out of fear of upsetting his ears again. She responded by hugging Sundial closer to herself.

“Yes, sweetie?” Her voice in the same whisper it was in before. He was too young to notice the sheer amount of distress in her quiet voice. Too young to contemplate about how he had been the first thing to scare Celestia in almost nine hundred years. She thought she was losing him. He was in so much pain…

“Can you please sleep in my bed tonight?” Sundial asked, though the tone of his voice suggested he was willing to plead if necessary.

Celestia only responded by snuggling closer to her adopted son. She couldn’t wash the blood off of the pillows or off of Sundial himself yet. She is so afraid that if she does anything besides maintain the spell and hold her son, the pain will start again.

So she snuggled into her son’s bed, Sundial wrapped in her hooves pressed against her torso.

Sundial and Celestia fell asleep on bloody pillows to the rhythmic ticking of a clock.

--0--

It had been a week since the incident. Sundial could finally sleep alone last night, without any sound cancelling barriers. He learned to hone and focus his hearing superbly, though through much trial and error. He originally tried to distract himself by painting (with a brush rather than his hooves) but eventually he got the hang of his hearing issues by himself. His mother seemed very interested in the paintings he made, though she never said why. She took them away someplace, and Sundial did not ask where.

Sundial stood by his bedroom’s window, looking down at what he could see of Canterlot’s streets. He wants to hear what they talk about on the streets. What other ponies talk about. He could just extend his hearing outwards, but he didn’t want to hear the conversations, heartbeats, breaths and hoofsteps of every pony in Canterlot. No, what Sundial was trying to do, is focus on one thing.

He didn’t know if he could do it, or if it was possible. But he felt like he should try. Like some part of him knew what he could do.

He focused his sight on two unicorn mares. Despite the fact that from the distance he was watching them from would reduce the two to mere colored splotches to regular ponies, Sundial could see them perfectly. He could see all of their details. He could even see their nostril hairs if he tried hard enough.

One of them is blue, the other one is yellowish-pink. The blue mare had a cutie mark of some kind of fruit that Sundial did not recognize, while the yellowish one’s cutie mark was hidden behind the table she sat at. A fly just landed on the table.

Sundial mentally berated himself for getting distracted by the fly, and kept looking at the mares. He felt like he was flexing muscles in his ears, though he had no idea if there were muscles to be flexing. He could feel them burn a bit from use, and different sounds were becoming apparent. A light breeze is outside. There are at least seven birds singing currently just outside his room. He can hear a stallion singing in the shower from somewhere below.

Sundial shakes his head, honing his ears back to normal range. He focused on the mares again, this time specifically on their moving mouths. Sundial could not read lips, so what they were saying was lost on him.

He tried flexing those muscles he didn’t know he had again, and heard new sounds. Different conversations droning in and out. He kept focusing in and out. In and out. Hot and cold. Trying to find a conversation that matches the lips of the two mares.

“-he came into my store and just started taking stuff! I mean, just because you’re my coltfriend does not mean you can just waltz into my job and start shoplifting! What’s up with that?” The blue one was ranting.

“I know! So I tell him to stop, and he starts getting mad at me like I’m the bad guy!”

The rest of the conversation drowned out as Sundial got a headache. His ears burned a bit, and it took a lot of effort to focus in like that. He allowed himself a prideful smile, however.

Sundial spent the next few hours just practicing spying on ponies. To his delight, he learned a few new words! Most of which he would only later find to be rather inappropriate to say to his mother. But the point was he was learning… and invading the private lives of ponies he’s never met and probably never will.

--0--

Celestia stood inside of the Canterlot Castle Vault, staring at the series of seven paintings her son had made.

The Canterlot Castle Vault is widely known as one of the most secure locations in Equestria, where priceless, dangerous, or powerful artifacts get stored.

It is a rather large room, and all of the walls have safes with identification numbers on them. Some of the safes held things that would cause a mortal pony to go made by simply looking at them. Some of the safes held things that could level a mountain if used improperly. Some of the safes held things like forgotten spell tomes and scrolls, some written by Star Swirl the Bearded.

Now, exactly eight of these safes held paintings made by Celestia’s adopted son.

The first one was his first painting of Nightmare Moon. Celestia only put the painting within the vault after she understood the significance of it.

See, it was weeks after the Nightmare Moon painting did Sundial start painting ponies standing in Celestia’s court room. Ponies that neither Celestia nor Sundial had seen before. Almost always the depicted pony would show up, whether it be that day, or a few weeks ahead. He then started painting small events like ponies tripping, or arguing, and other such things. They always predicted future events.

So clearly when he painted Nightmare Moon, he was predicting her return. Celestia always knew Nightmare was coming back eventually, but the painting made it far more real.

More than a year has passed, and Sundial had painted quite a lot. But ever since the Nightmare Moon painting, there had been nothing significant.

A series of seven paintings lay before her, all of which connected in some way. The first six each depict a filly witnessing (and in one case, apparently causing) some form of rainbow. Most of which a rainbow-based explosion, it would seem.

The final painting is of these fillies, only grown into young adults. They are all being levitated in some form of magic, and five of them are wearing necklaces.

It took Celestia a few minutes of staring to come to the earth-shattering realization.

Celestia grinned. She now has physical depictions of the Element Bearers. In order for the Elements to work, the Bearers need to be in the same place and manifest them at the same time. Celestia does not know if the paintings are showing the future with or without her intervention, but she supposes it can’t hurt to be safe.

Celestia teleported out of the vault. She has no idea who the fillies are or how old they are, but she supposes she will know when to start looking. Once a rainbow explosion happens, apparently.

\----------/0\----------/

List of Manifested Abilities
(In the order in which they were manifested/discovered.)

Telekinesis: The ability to cause kinetic energy of varying precision and strength with the mind. This ability can be used to create an invisible force thin enough to slice through various materials.

Electrical Manipulation: The ability to generate, manipulate, direct, and discharge electricity. While the host is immune to their generated electricity, they can still be harmed by electrocution from other sources.

Enhanced Memory: Similar to eidetic memory, this ability allows for perfect recall, though theoretically on a much larger scale of information storage.

Enhanced Strength: The ability to exert force several times stronger than any natural limit, regardless of muscle mass. A possible side effect of this ability could increase the durability of the user, as some feats of strength that should break the host’s own bones can be done with no injury.

Rapid Cellular Regeneration: The ability to heal at a vastly accelerated rate. This ability allows limbs and organs to be grown after they have been severed, and also displays the capability of reviving a dead host as long as nothing is hindering the healing process.

Refrigeration: The ability to significantly lower (but never raise) temperatures. Note that this ability can only function when physical contact with the target is made. The host is also immune to cold or freezing temperatures.

Abstract Precognitive Depiction: The ability to draw, paint, or otherwise visually depict future events. The inevitability of depicted predictions tends to vary.

Enhanced Hearing: The ability to detect and hone in on quiet noises from impossibly long ranges.

Enhanced Vision: The ability to see the smallest of details from impossibly long ranges regardless of light conditions.

Clockwork

by MenialLabor

Sensory Overload