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// Prolog 
// Story: Darkness 
// by SuperFandomBrony 
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	I was always a fan of the night, and that's how it started. I decided, when I was ten, to go out, and look at the stars, each night, and I have. Every night. I still do things in the day, but I loved the night. I stayed awake, under the brilliant moon, full or empty, as long as it was there. I'm now fifteen, I still go out at night, each night. But only if I stayed in, those three nights, those three nights.


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I was out, under the blood moon, even though it was redder than blood. It was also a blue moon, which was funny because it was crimson. Laying in the soft grass, a soft brush of the wind, feeling lost in the sky, the lights were ruining it, but that's how it went.
I was in a city, not a big city like New York or Washington, but a small one, one that you knew a few people on your block. There was a population of about eight hundred. Many would call it small, but I love to call subtle, hidden in plain sight.
I was ready to get up, but I didn't want to. I wanted this peace to continue, but I had to go in. When I finally decided to go in, I was stopped, by a whisper, in my head, in my heart, in my essence. A whisper, to tell me, and it was from, from the moon itself. It wanted my help, it needed it. I was scared, and excited, and anything and everything in between. I listened to my sensible side, and got into my room as quick as I could, I looked around. At my nerdy posters, at my organized chaos, at the moon, the moon that wanted me.


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That day at school, we had a test, a computer test, might I add, and a test meant free (quiet) time after we were done. I finished quickly, with three questions wrong, testes on a computer were good for me, my teacher (Mr. Oplis, but he has us call him O, if he likes us that is) tells 
me that, Tests on a computer are good for me, I have bad handwriting.
Guess how I usually spend this time. Appropriate games, or fun pet projects, but this time, I looked up something very important, the moon. I looked at the only logical thing to look at, myths. There are many myths of the moon, but there was one. In Aztec and Mayan (very similar, not the exact same though),have a legend known as, the children of the night, they would prove themselves to the moon, and I turn the moon god (Luna for me) would grant them the power of the night, but there is a catch, you must give a piece of your soul to the moon, and you must use your powers, you can't have them just to say you have them, it doesn't matter if it's good or not, you just have to do something. To get these powers you mu----
“Are you a child of the night Derek, have you been asked by the moon.” I jump ten feet high, feeling ready to die. I look behind me to see Mr Oplis, staring questioningly at me. I stutter, trying to come up with an explanation, “Calm down Daniel, you look like you've seen a ghost, I was just wondering, being your language arts teacher and all, I like to know your personal mythology study, but I do have a question, why are you so suddenly interested in the moon?”
This calms me down, barely, but enough. “You know I like the n-n-night, just wanted to know the myths of it.”
He seems to except this, seems, you can never really tell with him tough, “Very well, extra credit as always with these excitements, as always, even though you don't need it, you're doing so well.”
He walks off. Good, I need to get to work. Back to where I was, this needed to be dealt with, one way or another.