Bring Back the Night

by Mad Pancake

Begin/Running

The City’s awake like an insomniac reaching for the last caffeine tablet just out of the reach.

The eternal day keeping the citizens of Canterlot awake and badly rested. Ever since The Sister had been cast away, the Sun has laid upon the sky of the world without rest. When it was the time for the long-gone Moon to rise, the Sun merely laughed at its sister and changed direction, heading back to the direction it had risen. It would have been more pragmatic to have it hung eternally at the peak, but that would have been dull. The movement of the ball of light gave hope. Hope that was… quite pleasurable to see being chipped away every time the ball changed directions.

But enough of hope and the ball of light, they are not relevant at the subjective moment.

What was relevant at the subjective moment was a unicorn. She was part of the generation that had grown under the Solar Day that the Sol Invictus had graced her glorious Solar Empire. They only knew of Night from the hushed stories of the elders, and it was terrible. Dark and filled with terrible beasts and death and Her, the Empress’ dreadful sister. No one dared to speak her name, lest the Empress send for them and never be seen again.

Like had happened with the unicorn’s—our subjective protagonist’s—family. Her birth mother one day never came back from shopping. Her father disappeared from his bed a few years after that, soon after which the rest of the herd left her. She grew to hate the light. The light which had taken her family from her. With her Origins of "Day" and "Night" she grew to hate the light.

And so, one day she walked. She didn’t know exactly where she was going. Only that she was moving. And moving was something. She was exhausted. Tired, one could even say. Not physically, mind you, she was in an excellent physical health especially for a unicorn. Mentally though, she was quite tired. She wanted outside of the City. Away from the light. So that day—or night, as it would have/should have/could have been—she walked.

Without noticing, she had arrived to her father’s herd’s former house. That is to say, her father’s house. She hadn’t been back there since the herd had left her. She turned away after recognising the building, afraid it would stir up the memories she had buried. She quickly began to run, as the memories began stirring, and ignored the ponies that leaned out of their windows and told her to keep quiet lest she brought the attention of the Empress to her—or to them.

Our subjective protagonist barely noticed as she ran that the store fronts and houses gave way to warehouses. Warehouses to abandoned factories. Factories to slums. She’d ran for an unimportant amount of time. The outskirts. Ponies didn’t visit the area much those days. Perhaps because it was much cooler there—almost pleasant—she wondered. She slowed down to a trot, then stopped and frowned. She had half-expected that she would feel better. More free. Less oppressed. Instead she felt… wary. Hesitated. She felt a growl escape as she felt the eyes of the Empress’ agents still on her—kilometres away from the City’s centre.

Looking around her, surveying the ragged buildings and the remains of some, she almost tripped. There was something there, in the alley. Formless. Shifting. There. She felt her heart speed up, legs beginning to tremble and teeth chatter as she realised what it was.

Darkness.

Her ears splayed back and she lowered—fell—to the ground when two objects appeared in the darkness. Eyes, she realised as she noticed the pupils in them. And they were directed to something behind her.