TThe First Second of Eternity

• MLP: FiM
• Adventure
• Drama
• Slice of Life

A timeless alicorn from a bygone era, tasked to watch over the land of Equestria, begins to question her place in it as the world changes and time passes.

• Sex
• Celestia
• Luna
• OC

Sledge115 · 41k words  ·  87  5 · 1.6k views

Description

What does time mean for one that is timeless?

For the one named Galena, it does not concern her much. For as long as she has remembered, she has been given a few tasks to carry out as Mother willed it - to observe this world, and learn from it, too. And she has been given all the time in the world to see it through, for the good of her land and people.

Or, perhaps, in some ways, it does matter. Time changes everything after all, including what one makes of it. And, just maybe, her purpose isn't so set in stone as she thought it was.

Initial Thoughts

I love Sledge’s stories—they’re always an absolute delight to read, and I always find beauty in even some of their few blemishes, if any blemishes I do find. What intrigues me about this one is the fact that it’s set in the Spectrum-verse, which I am unfamiliar with. I think I’ve read a few of Sledge’s stories that are technically of the same cloth, but if I recall correctly, they’ve never necessitated reading the Spectrum story itself—perhaps the same goes for this story. 

As to the story itself, it seems this will be an “immortal” fic—one concerned with that question. Galena is our OC, and the other characters, as the story indicates, will be Celestia and Luna—obvious choices, given the nature. Though it does make me wonder how they are related to Galena, and who this “Mother” is. 

I also note that this story has already been reviewed by the Reviewer’s Mansion, but for the sake of impartial opinion, I won’t be consulting that review unless otherwise necessary. 

Spoilers ahead!

Summary

The price of immortality is eternal service to the point where even that may lose its meaning. Galena learns this, but lives anyway.

Plot

I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that this story is a fairy tale. The first portion (a phrase which I will clarify later) and the various author’s notes listed at the end of each chapter are great indicators of this. But I think it would also be accurate to suggest that this is also a kind of myth, which, based on a lot of Sledge’s work, especially the ones I’ve read, is a deliberate and consistent narrative mode. The first chapter’s beginning, after all, speaks greatly to an almost Biblical forthcoming of the story, down to the stylistic texts and the fact that it is about the creation of something out of nothing:

At first, there was nothing to see. Only Mother, and her measured, regal voice seeping past her clouded thoughts. It was calm, soothing, and warm against the icy chill that blew against their sanctuary.

And it was everything she needed.

“You are Galena,” Mother spoke to her. “Scribe of the Stardust.”

“I am Galena,” came her reply. “Scribe of the Stardust.”

“You are the guardian of memory,” she was told, and repeated as Mother spoke. “As the world turns, you shall stand firm. As the land grows, you shall care for it. You shall watch, you shall learn, and you shall protect.”

She was both asleep and wasn't, and try as she might, she could not open her eyes, and behold Mother nor address her directly. And Mother was so, so very tired.

“Good night, my little ones,” she heard her whisper. “When you awaken, the world will await you, and you in turn shall make it better. Now, rest well. Dream of sweet things to come. And most of all, be brave.”

So she did, falling into a dreamless sleep, waiting for her time, need it take an eternity.

And the story’s second chapter contains, in the author’s notes, an excerpt from the Brothers Grimm:

The King said, “The third question is, how many seconds of time are there in eternity?” Then said the shepherd boy, “In Lower Pomerania is the Diamond Mountain, which is two miles and a half high, two miles and a half wide, and two miles and a half in depth; every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on it, and when the whole mountain is worn away by this, then the first second of eternity will be over.”

    – The Brothers Grimm, The Shepherd Boy

Such literary allusions and narrative modes speak to Sledge’s intent to write, what seems to me, a mythic fairy tale, one that attempts to weave together a world seen through the eyes of the character of Galena.

In this matter, the story is an origin for Galena, in the vein of many myth origin stories—but it is also a fairy tale about Galena, in the vein of many fairy tales. I don’t know if the two things are mutually exclusive—in fact, it seems to me that fairy tales naturally evolve out of myths, as sort of evolutionary byproducts of the mode, diluted from a giant hegemonic culture and distilled into the kind of campfire whittling-ground material. 

In fact, this distillation may be a viable way of reading this story, as it starts grand and mythic before growing smaller and more intimate—for, just as the plot evolves and develops downward, so too does the mode itself, leaving the realm of abstract myth and entering the world of the personal storyteller.

The complex mode aside, the plot itself may be described by the following phrase: A stranger comes to town. In this case, the stranger is Galena, and the town comes in two forms: the world, and also a hamlet by the waters, as Chapter III indicates. Of the former “town,” Galena truly is a stranger to the world: having been cultivated from the nothingness that came before, Galena enters the world a stranger to existence, an anomaly forever walking and wandering the fringes of reality. Just as a stranger by definition is one by their inability to intersect with the familiar (because once they do, they are no longer a stranger), so, too, is Galena made to form. 

But the plot may also be described by the following, additional phrase: A woman goes on a journey. As indicated by the first chapter, Galena has a duty to wander. Specifically, she is “to stand firm. As the land grows, you shall care for it. You shall watch, you shall learn, and you shall protect.” This is outlined by her mother, an enigmatic yet obviously godlike figure who only gets named later on in the story. Why must Galena stand firm, though? It is because her duty is to be the “guardian of memory,” memory of the world and all the ways it turns. Indeed, much of the story, if not spent in the above described hamlet by the water, is spent in Galena’s head, as she observes time passing and reflects on the lonely nature of her existence, never spending all her time in one place before moving on. 

These two phrases intersect narratively to create a sense of forward momentum in the story that acts both internally and externally in relation to Galena. When she goes on this journey in order to fulfill her charge, she both goes on one across Equestria, noting the strangeness of everything around her, and also one in herself, noting her own anomalous nature. At the end of Chapter I, she sits and asks the wind, “... Who am I?” This question becomes the catalyst for which she embarks on another journey to a mountain, which she decides to whittle down with her hooves—to use that, in some ways, to define her inner and outer journey further. But that, in turn, leads to the first phrase occurring: she meets a stallion named Broadleaf, who takes her to his little hamlet, introducing her as a stranger come to town. 

A majority of the story is all about this town, and by extension, the relation Galena has to it. As the story unfolds, that relation grows more and more precise until it is specifically about the relationship Galena has with Broadleaf, one of the central supporting characters who “familiarize” Galena with the town itself. And the closer that the two become, the more intimate does the story become—does the plot become.

In fact, it seems to me that six of the eight chapters have that sense of intimacy with regards to its plot, due to how the development of the story is so centrally tied to what happens in them—to what happens to the town, to Broadleaf, to Galena’s earliest days. So it is with a degree of confusion that I note that the remaining two chapters strike as part of a different set of stories altogether. 

This isn’t because they weren’t thematically coherent or unrelated to the previous sections. Indeed, they are—the fallout of what happens in the first six chapters affects the presentation of Galena in these last two. But the plot shifts drastically by the end—it literally leaves the hamlet and the world that Galena had stepped into behind. Of course, this is to be expected, given that the seventh chapter starts with a time jump, but the decision to have that time jump still creates this jarring effect where we realize, rather abruptly, that the story is changing. The illusion of cohesive story—upon which all stories rely—is momentarily broken. That the last two chapters are written so that Galena is no longer the only narrator also adds to this sense of disjointment. 

I return to my earlier point, that the two remaining chapters strike me as part of a different set of stories altogether. I add onto that with the following: taken in this manner, the two chapters feel slightly dissatisfying. I believe that is because of two key observations: first, that they are different in tone and take than the previous six, and thus do not feel as though they connect in the same way; and two, that the story had, before them, already ended. 

Galena’s story is a woeful yet wonderful tale of a goddess coming down to earth. It is therefore touched by the tragedy all immortal beings face when interacting with mortals—the realization of what they miss out on, for being so long-lived. The relationships they build with us are fragile and transitory, lasting but a second to them. Given the already established themes, then it seems to me that the story could have ended with this tragic realization on Galena’s behalf by chapter six, and the last two chapters could have been placed elsewhere. They may be necessary to explain something in the larger Spectrum story, but their effect on this one, while nice and sentimental, is mitigated by the somewhat jarring and disruptive conclusion.

But these are harsh words. What is true is that this is an excellent story regardless of my criticism of the last two chapters. What I will say is that the last two chapters embody a slice of life story quite nicely, but the first section embodies the slice of life fairy tale nicely, too. It then becomes a question of which story “The First Second of Eternity” needs, not if it needs both. 

Score - 9 / 10

Characterization

As this is Galena’s story, it’s understandable she should be the character who stands out the most. And she does. Perhaps that’s because she is, in many ways, a walking contradiction. She’s ancient and immortal, yes, and with that, comes a kind of aloofness we expect of eldritch beings—but she is also naive and quirky because of it, ignorant of the practices of mortals. This makes the reader easily sympathize with her and root for her—we want her to understand the world she woke up in, find her place, and, in some ways, to get to know us as we get to know her. 

How she accomplishes this is not on her own—it’s through the various characters she interacts with. Among the notable are Broadleaf—the stallion who teaches her what it means to be a pony—and Firefly, classic Firefly, who operates as a pseudo-sage, connecting Galena back to the world of G4 through some adequate lore-dropping and conversation. I speak loosely, of course, because these characters’ full effects are best observed without spoiling too much—but to be sure, these two from the first section stuck out the most, due to their shared function: Broadleaf, for being a conduit to a world previously unknown to Galena (and harkening back to “A stranger comes to town”), and Firefly, for being a conduit back to a world far larger than Galena had ever thought (and harkening back to “A woman goes on a journey”). 

But equally, both characters serve as markers for the tension within Galena—a tension concerned with what she wants and what she must do. If I operate under the assumption that this is a story about fringes—about the outsider looking in on worlds not their own—then it makes sense that the outward characters contrast the inner “characterization” found in the inner fringes of Galena’s own heart. Everyone feels intimate and close to Galena, but she appears aloof and isolated from them just the same. 

In having this tension appear both externally and internally, Sledge crafts a character whose ultimate evolution is one of debate. It is clear that Galena learns from all the characters with whom she interacts, but not quite as clear is whether she is able to adequately grow from such lessons—because her duty ultimately prevents her from doing so. The first second of eternity is spent, or perhaps, lost, once it has passed; what causes that to pass is the realization that time marches on, and some of us get left behind. That, it seems, is the ultimate tragedy of an immortal being such as Galena—Galena, the forever-stranger; Galena, the goddess-unable-to-mortalize (as opposed to immortalize); Galena, the contradiction. 

But this is not to say that Galena doesn’t grow. Though I griped about the time skip, I note that it does allow the story to show that Galena has changed after 3000 years. Her view about the world seems a little less naive, more assured, if still baked in the heavy melancholy of immortality. At the same time, this seems a rather predictable course of evolution, such that compared to the enthralling development of her growth in the first section, the presentation of her “final state” in the second feels almost by-the-books.

But that shouldn’t matter when it comes to this character. I know I keep coming back to this point, but it’s what stands out the most with regards to who Galena is: she is a god-finding-man character, an archetype that is foundational to many myths and, well, fairy tales. If nothing else, Sledge knows how to embody and capture the magic and souls of those ancient modes of storytelling. Inasmuch as the other characters are conduits for Galena to establish connections with the world, Galena serves as a conduit for the type of world we see here—a world of fairy tales. 

One might even take this a step further and argue that Galena is a fairy tale, one that, by the story’s end (and therefore the story’s transition to modern times), is trying to find its place in a world that seemingly has left it behind—in the same way that the world it grew up in was left behind. What makes fairy tales so interesting, if you study them, is how solid and universal they are; how hard they are to adapt once they have been universally recognized. Therefore there is a tension between the ancient fairy tale and the modern interpretation. A similar tension plays out between who Galena once was and who Galena is now, adding only further to her complexity. 

Not every character has this complexity, of course. The final additions to the roster, who appear in the last two chapters, feel flat compared to the others whom Galena has met. But if those two chapters are meant to be brief glimpses into this next stage in Galena’s life, then it makes sense that these characters should be brief themselves. While this may make the plot by that point jarring, I don’t believe it hampers them in the same way; indeed, since the one mare clearly had some impact on Galena (or more accurately, it’s the other way around), the story at least shows that it is willing to give them some degree of spotlight, with which they will impose themselves on the reader’s mind. 

Score - 9 / 10 

Syntax

There are only a few notable points worth making in this section, all of them minor. In certain chapters, I noticed a couple of missing or mistaken punctuation, especially commas. I also noted some misspellings or dropped words which may be the result of a copy-and-paste error. The story’s chosen voice, at times, could be a little too on the nose, which is especially notable in the story’s first six sections. I can tell that Sledge is trying to achieve a certain narrative voice, and often it works—but sometimes, however, it comes across as “pushing itself too hard.”

Though, this vanishes in the last two chapters, for a more conversational tone of voice. I think that’s because the ease of “modern” language appears quite readily, slipping the reader into more comfortable shoes. At the same time, this change in syntax suggests a further sense of disconnect between the two sections. 

Score - 9.5 / 10

Final Score - ( 9 + 9 + 9.5 ) / 3 = 9.17 / 10

Final Thoughts

I didn’t come up with those two phrases to describe the plot. But it’s hard to pinpoint who did. Some say the late American writer, John Gardener, coined the term in his workshop classes, a place where a living American legend—for by that time he was already considered “one of the greats”--became mentor and man. But Gardner also attributed the quote to Dostoyevsky. In other circles, it’s been attributed to Dostoyevsky’s contemporary, Leo Tolstoy.

It seems fitting that this review should actually bring up those two great Russian novelists, because, in a twist of fate that is both coincidental and amusingly literary, studies of fairy tales and the conceptualization of the monomyth have also centered on Russian folktales. Obviously I do not mean to suggest that Sledge incorporated some great Russian allusion in their work—but it is befitting that a work that is so entrenched in the concept of the tale should, through no fault of its own, lead me to remember not only the quote, but the ties literature has to culture as well. 

“The First Second of Eternity” is a wonderful, romantic, dreamlike origin story, of a character who at once embodies the difficulty of being a goddess, and the difficulty of being a mortal. Its heart lies more with the character than any extrapolation of plot, but what it does have in terms of plot is still equally solid. It is definitely a story that has me interested in checking out the larger Spectrum story which it apparently leads into—but it is also a story I highly recommend to anyone interested in Sledge’s work.

<For archive purposes: 9.17/10> 

7731615

Hello! My, what a pleasant sight this morning

I'll cut straight to the point this time around, because I can literally sit here all day gushing about this darn story, heh heh.

But I think it would also be accurate to suggest that this is also a kind of myth, which, based on a lot of Sledge’s work, especially the ones I’ve read, is a deliberate and consistent narrative mode.

The First Second of Eternity marked the first time I'd published solo in, what, four years at the time (Spectrum is a collaboration), and I daresay its style continues to define mine from hereon.

I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that this story is a fairy tale.

Got it in one

So it is with a degree of confusion that I note that the remaining two chapters strike as part of a different set of stories altogether.

So, funny note, but the last chapter was actually the first chapter completed. In fact, it was supposed to be the only chapter until I decided to expand on the premise by outright telling the story of Galatea's life leading up to this point (if you're wondering why I'd called Galena 'Galatea', that is what she was originally called. It's out of habit, and I can't be bothered to stop and correct myself. Long, winding story behind why we were forced to change her name, and it's a rather unpleasant business).

But anyway! I decided to intentionally write the story in changing styles. As Galatea changed, so too would the story follow her. It starts distant and ends with an intimate night.

I know, the change was jarring, but I'll offer the defense that, well, it's to demonstrate how far she's come in the past few thousand years, heh.

They may be necessary to explain something in the larger Spectrum story

I can assure you it isn't. I'd committed myself to ensuring each and every single side story of mine in the Spectrum-verse would stand alone.

After all, you don't need to watch Saving Private Ryan to understand Downfall.

That, it seems, is the ultimate tragedy of an immortal being such as Galena—Galena, the forever-stranger; Galena, the goddess-unable-to-mortalize (as opposed to immortalize); Galena, the contradiction.

Such is her tragedy.

There's still more to her, of course, and all I'll say without spelling it aloud is that there's a reason I'd picked the 1st of May as the initial publishing date

It seems fitting that this review should actually bring up those two great Russian novelists, because, in a twist of fate that is both coincidental and amusingly literary, studies of fairy tales and the conceptualization of the monomyth have also centered on Russian folktales. Obviously I do not mean to suggest that Sledge incorporated some great Russian allusion in their work—but it is befitting that a work that is so entrenched in the concept of the tale should, through no fault of its own, lead me to remember not only the quote, but the ties literature has to culture as well.

What's funny is, well, my editor/writing partner and I agreed that, if she was human, she'd look Slavic

Anyways, thank you for the lovely review It was a joy to read, too, and I'm glad you enjoyed this little tale.

Cheers!

~ Sledge