Prologue
Almost a thousand years ago in another world, up in the Canterlot mountains, no gleaming city sat in the night. Instead sat a snowy town amid the sharp cold, under an eternally gray sky. Further towards the peak, a small cabin sat, the smoke from its chimney rising, only to turn down and spill into the valley. Inside, a pale-green unicorn began to write.
Oh, my dear friend, you would not believe what these eyes have seen! The world was once more full of beauty and wonder than you could imagine. Artists have painted, poets have sang, and yet none have truly captured the beauty and awe of the glory of dawn, nor the quiet and peace of night.
I am afraid a million artists may paint, a million poets may write, a million symphonies may play, and a million choirs may sing, but nothing can ever capture the wonder of the world I have known and that you may never know, if you do not fight to return to it. It is not fought for with sword and spear, but with hope and heart, kindness and compassion, trust and friendship.
I and every co-signer that shall sign this text will attest to its truth, that there is no greater endeavor on which you may embark, than to bring back the summer, and once again let the world know day.
She stopped for a moment, carefully considering of what she had seen, what would remain in the centuries to come, and what she would have to teach. She resumed writing,
The Sunstones have never existed before. Long before you were born, the world was warm, and though for some times it would go through a period of cold, it would become warm again. This was known as summer and winter, these passing some two or three score times in a pony's life. But The Great Winter had come, and so Star Swirl brought us a gift – the Sunstones.
These stones were named after The Sun, which they radiate like unto. We do not know how he produced them, and he claimed to have received them as a gift. From whom he wast endowed them, he does not say, only that it will be many eons until we have unlocked the secrets of how they are made.
The Sun shone as the Sunstones, but sat in the heavens for all the world to see and feel, to melt all the ice and snow in spring, and bring life, beautiful and lush across the face of the earth. For two thousand scores of seconds it rose in the sky then fell, a day, only to set behind the horizon and hide its face for as long again, a night, leaving the world dark, but still warm from its gift. The night sang with life, the chirping of crickets like a shrill, trilling lute, singing the world to sleep, before again rising on the horizon amid crimson glory that washed the sky.
Under this glory, we all knew peace, we all knew kindness. Mass bloodshed was but a horror of imagination, a nightmare we could scarce conceive - nay, a nightmare we had not even imagined! There was a time when there were tribes of unicorn, earth pony, and pegasi, and we beat back the Windigos with our friendship. We joined in song. The warmth in our hearts melted the snow – it was this that defeated the Windigos -
a teardrop fell on the page. She paused, only to realize it fell from her own cheek. She sniffed, wiped her face, and closed her eyes for a long moment. She turned to her window, and the small town glowing below, the hard-earned discoveries of magic keeping it alive with great fields of crystalline lanterns. A small crack of a smile appeared on her cheeks, and she set back to the paper,
and it is with it you may defeat them again. I know it is possible. I have done it myself! And together we have survived the great winter. We have found a way to defeat the undefeatable darkness, and so will you.
Others have brought war, death, and horror to this world. But you shall not be among them.
She paused again. She could remember the messenger's terrible words. He had worn a uniform from another dome. She could still hear the exact tone of his voice, the trickling stream nearby, and feel the grass under her hooves – she remembered every detail of when he said it – how he fought the weakness in his voice and tried to show strength even as he shook “They showed no mercy. They killed every last one. I – I have never seen so much death! So much blood drenching a field so littered with bodies! They killed them just for living, even children and mares! They know no mercy – they truly believe we're responsible for everything that's happened and they won't forgive us! We must fight!”
I used to wonder if we could only sue for peace. I wish I still could hope for it. She shuddered as she saw again in her mind, the icy fields of burned and mutilated corpses, still smoldering with magical fire, and the endless armies still charging down over their fallen comrades.
If only I still could... Others stayed behind to beg for mercy. She had wanted to join them, but was needed to help organize the evacuation. So she had to see what had become of them. Countless bodies hanged from those trees – mares, colts, fillies, and even foals, and many more littered the ground, unburied. What the messenger had said was true.
It still stabbed her chest. But defiance won out. It may pain me that they died, and I lived, but I owe it to them to continue living. It is my duty.
Spite flared in her heart, but she quickly turned it to defiance. No, I don't live because I hate those – those ponies. I live not to spite them, but to spite the darkness that lied to them, and the darkness within them...
She returned to her paper again,
Though at times, you may be called to defend the lives of your wives, sons and daughters, do not be afraid. You are their shield against the darkness. When they bring steel, do not hesitate to meet blade with blade. Do all you can, that perhaps you may prevent the horrors these eyes have seen! But if they spill blood, you are a coward to shrink from meeting blade with blade.
Sickening threats spoken by angered unicorns echoed in her head, and endless battles that had followed; the wars on the trek to Bastion mountain.
But please, dear reader. That is it, blade on blade. Never blade on neck, or blade on begging hoof. When their lines are broken, when they bid for peace, you are but a monster worse than they if you deny them.
Though the fire of friendship brings warmth against the cold, the fire of fury burns you and they alike, until there are none left but poisoned ashes. Your corpses will all freeze together if you let hate consume you, even for the hateful. The endless cycle of blood for blood will never be broken, and the world will go silent of life if you cannot forgive even the most heinous of crimes – though not making yourself vulnerable to them.
This world will need light. The light of dawn is real and tangible, as is the warmth of summer – yet they will come only from the warmth of heart, and the light of your soul, which are known to spirit only. As the heart is the birthplace of action of the hoof, so will the heart be the birthplace of dawn before the hoof feels warm grass upon the Earth again.
Carry your light, dear friend, do not let it go out. Do not let your spirit shrink in fatigue. Do not let hatred and darkness consume it or you will be as lost as the thing you hate, entertain no hate at all. Strike not in anger, but in defense. Only then can dawn come. Only then will you see the sun rise once more.
A hymn came to her. A song from a forgotten era, sung by all the tribes together in peace and harmony, before friendship was forgotten to fury. The Heart Carol. She wiped her eyes again.
It is possible, reader, it is possible. I have seen it. I have felt the fire of friendship set our world ablaze with warmth and life! Perhaps you will believe it is impossible, but it is not!
Many have been hardened by these horrors, and yet others have been softened, but none are untouched. You will live in a different world than the one we leave behind. But never forget, as the Sunstones shine, so may the sun. As the sun shone, so may our hearts. They alone can end the winter. I have seen it! It was done before, and it may be done again.
When the fire of friendship lives in your hearts, it will melt the snow. The Old Princess of the Sun will return and reign in peace and harmony, and your song will banish the Windigos, and set free her strength to bring the dawn once more. So attests every co-signer here.
No weapon can defeat them and bring the dawn and the summer, only the fire of friendship.
- Clover the Clever
Across frozen peaks and canyons, iced lakes and frozen rivers, another unicorn walked into a secluded corner deep within a cave. Most of her body was hidden under a navy blue cloak, fringed with a lighter blue. Her fur was a deep purple, her mane an even darker purple still. Only her magic provided a dim glow as she walked into the darkness, dragging her hooves, her shoulders low.
She sat down, and gingerly pulled a scroll, ink and quill from her saddlebags, setting them in front of her. She bowed her head. After several long moments, she looked back up, took the quill in her hoof, held the parchment in her magic, and began to write.
Lionheart, I am so sorry.
I still struggle to forgive you for leaving us, yet you did not deserve what they did to you – but neither did we. This magic we have discovered will allow us to live forever, and perhaps one day, shall an alicorn fortune us, allow you to live once more. I am the only unicorn left among our kin, and so it has fallen on me to protect them.
Oh, Lionheart, Lionheart! How I loved you as a sister! Your embrace once more, I cry for and dream of. I do not give up on hope that one day I shall know your embrace again, and though your voice be lost forever, the words will still be yours–
She shook, her breath quick and broken,
even if I have to rend heaven and Earth and twist this cruel world to oblivion, nothing will stop me, nothing will deny me the power to be with you once more. Immortality! Surely the power of the alicorn spell Luna gifted you with is within our grasp! Surely! But until then, Lionheart, I wish only that I can look you in the eye once more on the day of our reunion, beloved sister.
She calmed her breathing, but couldn’t stop her shaking.
For your sake, I will forgive them. No, I am sorry to write a lie – I cannot – not now, at least. Perhaps one day I will. But until then, I will restrain myself, out of respect for you. I will not break this vow, whatever they may do.
Yet, I am afraid I cannot hide away with the rest of The Children. As I am the last unicorn of our kin, the solemn duty falls on me to protect them. Not just of seniority as their leader, but because I possess the gift of direct power over magic. I will lead them in peace and love as you wanted, but I must be their guardian and protector as you were, yet I will not make the mistake you did – we needed you, and you left us! I will not value the world above, when weighed against this world we build beneath.
I will slay them if needed – every last one in direct defense of The Children, but here, to you, since one day in my immortality you shall certainly return, I make another promise, the only other promise I shall ever make. You made a promise to protect us, to love us, to guide us – yet they broke that promise, yet my promise shall never be broken.
Her quill floated over the paper, shaking so violently it nearly marked the scroll. “A century? A millenia? If I don't do this now...” her voice shook. “My only defense against eternity – I – I must. I must!”
She frantically wrote.
Before you return, I will forgive you, I will forgive them, and when you return, I will look you in the eye, and tell you I kept my promise to forgive them, and I will tell you I forgive you, and we will embrace. That is my promise.
Signed, Jeweled Veil.
She simply sat, looking at what she had just written, knowing she had nowhere to send it to, and wouldn’t, possibly for centuries, yet her life was now committed to it. She looked down at her shaking hooves. She dropped the quill and threw her head into her hooves.
Her sobs echoed through the cave's dark corridors.
One day, Lionheart.
I promise.
I promise.
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Ambitious.
9115646
Life is too short to not be.
Gotta make it worthwhile.
Have you ever seen any of Shakespeare's plays performed, or maybe just read them? This first chapter reads like Hamlet's epic monologue, but instead of waiting until act 3, when we've been won over to the story and its characters, we decided to skip all that and just zoom in on his head talking to us.
When I first took a look at this story, I tried to figure out how it possibly could've attracted so little attention. I've read your prose in the past and found it fine. But now that I've read it, I know why.
Twilight's exceptionally lengthy monologue is written alright, but it just doesn't belong in the prologue. This chapter is rather like walking into a intro to chem for non-majors class and having nothing but an exceptionally complex ochem reaction to balance. They say milk before meat, and they say it for good reason.
When I studied with brandon, he taught frequently about the pyramid of abstraction. In simple terms, it means that we earn the right to write about complex, abstract subjects in our stories by providing ample concrete details. I could barely even tell you why Twilight and Rarity were together, or where they were going--so far as I can tell, it was just a bit of painted backdrop so the spotlight could zoom in on twilight and she could opine for a few thousand words straight.
Or, from a craftsmanship perspective--think of your prologue as your best chance to grab your readers. This is literally the most eyeballs your story will ever have. What do you have to offer that's unique, that you can use to really grab people? Where's the drama, the danger, the risk? Twilight's lament here could fit into a story quite well--if we were 50k words in, and she'd just seen someone close to her die. You could earn the right to do something so abstract with the powerful concrete details involved in losing a good friend.
And what happens if you don't earn it? People lose interest. I write pony for a living and I couldn't keep going after that monologue, I'm going to tackle the rest of this chapter tomorrow.
I think I've gone on long enough, so I'll close with a summary. I think this monologue is great, maybe even insightful. But it belongs either in the middle of the story, after it's been earned, or maybe a freeform prose blog-post. This very first scene is exactly why you've heard so many storied writers say "kill your darlings." I can tell this is a darling of yours--if you want to share the rest of them with your readers, this one needs to find a new home.
9119231
I knew it wouldn't necessarily be the best for attracting as many readers as possible, but there are a number of reasons I decided to put this first.
Firstly, I wanted the very first thing to be the issue of the arc the story would close resolving - ie, the drama in the second half of the prologue is the 2nd most major arc, but only serves as a vehicle for the 1st and most major arc, the problem of meaning, by being a world that would make all of those issues concrete - but framing it in that way as to show that the main point isn't the drama of the world, but the higher issue that that drama is only an instance of.
Secondly, though kind of a subset of the first reason, to make it so when the story closes with something of this nature, it feels right since it started with something of this nature. It wasn't an action or drama that got hijacked by deeper concepts or only had deeper concepts pop their head in to say "hi" - it was about them all along, with the drama only serving to concrete that stuff out.
I thought it would kind of set the tone with that promise, so to speak, the role of a prologue.
Maybe I should've made it more accessible to readers who aren't so invested in this kind of thing, I dunno, or I dunno what a more satisfactory way to do that would be. But I think altogether the prologue sets the tone and promises pretty well.
Maybe I could've made it more interesting at a visceral level than only in high-concept ones - could probably emphasize better Rarity's solution, and that'd probably serve really well for later, too. But I'm not so sure what to do with it at this point since it's already published.
Maybe the solution would be as simple as reversing the order of the two halves, though. That'd have a slightly different flavor to it, but may actually be best, considering it'd put the more attractive dramatic aspect forward, and make Rarity's solution to existential dread more memorable since it'd be the end of the prologue, and since they're both in the prologue, may not make too much a difference in the hierarchy of "this is the main plot but this is an instance of the issues of the main plot".
It does slightly change the feel, though. Makes it less, "there's an overarching problem of meaning, and this is one example of ponies struggling with it", and more "here's something with meaning", almost as though it hints that being in a terrible world is the solution instead of a solution. But I suppose the argument could just as well be put in reverse.
Maybe I will reverse the order. Enjeweled Veil finishing her letter is more a dramatic ending, but honestly the juxtaposition of ending a scene with that, then ending the prologue with the two friends giggling instead, might have its own poignancy about it. Certainly seems to make me think, at least.
I think I will swap the order, actually. I'm loathe to change something already published, but it's not an actual change to content and it's the prologue so it's very important, so I may make an exception for this. Thoughts?
Okay I am intrigued by the opening. Let’s see the rest now.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you for understanding the moral distinction. As a military historian, I know well the importance of it.
It got better! It got better! Oh, what wonderful understanding of the Christian ethic of war and the compatibility of Justice and Mercy! The necessity fo forgiveness, even as we hold strong against evil! Magnificent!
9687586
Thank you very much! A friend and successful author reviewed this and suggested I gut these sections pretty heavily, but I'm glad I stuck to my guns on this much. I think it's tempting to say it leaves it open to interpretation so much that it really doesn't say anything - but I don't believe that at all. To achieve a proper balance, and to know when you must have mercy and when vindiction is appropriate, you must understand both the reasons for striking and for having mercy.
One pushes for violence, the other for peace. Pushing both may seem like pushing neither, since either way you end up in the middle - but it doesn't work like that at all. Reality is full of nuance, and if you miss the important details like why you should have mercy at some times and vindiction at others, then the devil will be in the details, and will show his face.
An army that understands only righteous fury will bring a regime just as horrible as the one they replace. A nation that understands only mercy, or neither, will find themselves occupied by a horrible regime. But an army that understands both mercy and righteous fury, but acting in war, will liberate nations and hold back the darkness.
Wait, wait, waiiiit, Is that purple unicorn Twilight!?