Once upon a time, long before the magical land of Equestria, there was a little filly named Ember Spark.

Ember lived in a village called Gründale, a small pegasi fishing village which lay at the end of an immense valley. The valley itself was walled by high, snow-capped peaks, which fed thousands of crystal blue streams. The streams in turn all fed into the milky blue waters of the river Veldes which the village of Gründale straddled as it met the great Northern Sea.

In the summer, Gründale was as busy as could be. A dozen fishing boats would leave before dawn every morning, their crews working feverishly all day to replenish the villages supplies. When they returned in the evening, it seemed as though the entire village turned out to help unload the day's catch. Ponies would work through the short, arctic night preparing, salting, and stringing up the fish to dry on racks all along the shore, or in smokehouses ripe with the smell of peat and herring. Then, the next day, with barely an hour or two of sleep, the fisherponies would head out again and the process would start all over.

Ember loved summer. She loved the smells, the excitement, and the taste of fresh food. She loved how the tundra exploded with flowers, which seemed just as urgent in their tasks as the ponies of the village. Most of all, she loved the feel of warm air beneath her red wings as she soared over the sea. But summer didn't last long in Gründale.

One day, near the end of her fifteenth summer, Ember went on a walk with her grandfather. He was a grizzled, brown earth pony who walked with a limp. Ember had asked him about it one time when she was younger, and he'd spun her a yarn about being pulled overboard after getting tangled up in an anchor rope. He'd told her how he'd nearly drowned, but was saved by the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, a siren who was half pony, half fish, and took pity on him. As she'd gotten older, Ember had found out the real story though, from others in the village. Yes, he'd snagged his hoof in a rope, but he'd merely hit his head before they fished him out of the water.

Today, as they walked, the old pony was telling another of his tall tales.

"You know," he said, looking at Ember. "Back when I was a colt, this whole valley used to be green clear to them far peaks!" He motioned with his walking stick toward the narrow end of the valley. Ember looked up and could see the nearest peaks miles beyond the enormous glacier that now defined the end of the dale.

"Yes sirree," he continued. "Back in those days, a pony could hike right up on out of the valley and o'er to the next. Used to hike it a fair bit myself, back before my leg got all mucked up."

"What was over there?" Ember asked, deciding to play along.

"Well, more mountains mostly, but there were a small griffon outpost somewhere..." The old pony squinted toward the horizon. "Well, I reckon it was in 'tween those twinned peaks there."

Ember strained her own eyes, and could just make out two similar sized mountains through the haze of distance.

"Griffons?" Ember asked, curious. "Wasn't that dangerous?"

"Nah, it weren't like that back then. Griffons had their side of the mountains, we had ours, and everyone had more than they needed, so there weren't no reason to fight."

Growing up, Ember had been told time and time again to beware of griffon raiders. Her mom had drilled her every time she left the house as a filly about always watching the skies—above and below—and staying close to the village. Raids weren't too common, certainly less common than her mom's worry had led her to believe when she was young, but the village stores and been broken into at least three times, and one pegasus had even lost a wing when he was surprised by a trio of raiders somewhere far up the coast.

"Have you ever met a griffon?" Ember asked her grandfather.

"'Course I have! Used to trade with 'em all the time."

"Really?" Ember's curiosity was starting to outweigh her disbelief. "What were they like?"

"Well, they're some tough son's of..." He caught himself and corrected. "Well, let's just say they're tough. But mostly, they're not too different than ponies. Most o' 'em is good, but some ain't."

"But you actually met them?"

"Yup. Used to hike over there to that outpost o' theirs. I'd make sure to bring plenty of smoked herring, and a little bit of salmon too. They loved the stuff, and I'd bribe my way in every time with it. By the end o' the night, we'd be drinking some o' their whiskey—they do it up way better than us, what with some fancy herbs and the like—and sharing stories 'round the fire."

"Didn't you get in trouble for giving away rations like that?"

"Nah, there weren't no 'rations' back then. We had plenty o' food all year round. In fact, we used to ship whole barrels of fish to some o' the bigger towns down south."

Trying to imagine what it was like to have all the food you wanted, Ember wondered how it might be possible. "Was the town just smaller back then?"

"Nope, actually was a might bit bigger, tell the truth. Think by the time I was twenty or so, we had darn near a thousand souls livin' in Gründale."

"A thousand?!" Ember was incredulous. Now days, the village had barely a quarter of that many ponies.

"Yup, includin' a fair number o' unicorns and earth ponies like myself too."

"What happened?"

Her grandfather pointed at the towering wall of ice that was the foot of the valley's glacier. "Got cold," he said. "And most o' them can't take it like you pegasi can."

"What about you?" Ember asked, subconsciously fluffing her own wings against the breeze flowing down off the ice. "Aren't you cold?"

The old stallion laughed. "All the durn time!"

"Do you ever think about leaving then? Wouldn't that be the smart thing to do?"

"Nah girly, I'm about as dumb as a mule." He chuckled again. "And twice as stubborn!"

"Seriously grandpa, if you're miserable here, why don't you go somewhere warmer?"

His face taking on a more serious cast, the old stallion sat down on a stump, and motioned Ember to join him. After she did, he looked her in the eyes. "First off, my Maudie is buried right here in the dale, and I aim to be laid down right next to her when my own time comes."

Ember felt a sudden urge to hug the old codger, and did.

"Don't go gettin' all sentimental on me," he said, brushing off the hug quickly.

Ember could tell he actually appreciated it though.

"Secondly," he continued. "Wouldn't much matter where ya go at this rate."

Ember gave him a quizzical look.

"Look up at those peaks, girly."

Ember did so.

"How long do ya reckon afore winter gets here?"

Seeing the clouds swirling with faint, snow-laden rainbows, Ember could tell it was already snowing on the peaks. "Three, maybe four weeks until the first frost," she ventured.

Bending over, her grandfather plucked a small white flower from the ground. "How long ago did the Snowdrop start blooming?"

"I think the first one I saw was two or three weeks ago."

"Six weeks," the stallion said, tossing the small flower into the wind. "Just six weeks between frosts?"

Ember nodded.

"I know ya may not believe a stubborn and lame ol' mule like me, but when I was a colt, summer used to last for months, as did spring and fall. It could be a fifteen or more weeks between the first blooms and fall frosts."

Despite his reputation for telling tales, Ember could see a truth in his eyes. "But how could that be?"

"Ya know the sundial down by the ol' docks?"

"The broken one that doesn't tell the right time?"

"Exactly."

"What about it, grandpa?"

"Girly, think about it for a moment. How do ya break a sundial?"

"I... I don't know, grandpa. How?"

"Ya don't! The sundial ain't broken, it's just old."

"You mean..." Ember hesitated, afraid that this might not just be another fanciful tale. "The sun's going away?"

Her grandfather nodded. "Go look for yourself if ya don't believe me."

The next day, Ember did.

----

Taking the small sundial from her mother's kitchen window, Ember Spark flew to the old docks. Circling for a place to land, she surveyed the place with new eyes. There, just below the bobbing surf, she could see the pilings of dozens of decayed moorings. She realized the port could've supported a fleet many times the size of the dozen or so remaining ships that were out fishing today.

Finding the sundial, she landed and examined it. It was a large, raised plinth with a tower nearly three times her own height in the middle of it, located in the center of what she realized must've been the main square for the old port. Marks around the perimeter denoted the hours of the day, labeled numerically. Inside from that, other marks denoted astronomical extremes. Sunrise and sunset times at both solstices and equinoxes.

Ember placed her own smaller, modern sundial down and lined it up to match. It was marked similarly to the large one, but there was a key difference. The length of the days was much, much shorter. At summer equinox, the old sundial showed sunrise and sunset were nearly nineteen hours apart. In the modern version, it was a mere eight. Winter was even more extreme. Where before, even the middle of winter apparently contained at least five hours of daylight for Gründale, now there was barely one.

Grandpa was right, Ember realized. The sun was going away.

----

For the next week, Ember Spark barely slept. She tried, of course, but found herself tossing and turning in the hay loft above the hut's main room, waking up every hour or less. The sun was going away. It was going to get worse. The sun was going away. It wasn't going to get better. The sun was going away!

As she thrashed about in her bed, she imagined she could feel the cold, icy wind approaching. In fitful spurts of sleep, she dreamed of it penetrating her feathers and fur, sucking the warmth directly from her skin, even as she fought to stay warm. She dreamed of a fire that had no heat, no life, of huddling closer and closer to it against the hateful cold, until she was practically inside the fire herself. She dreamed of stoking the fire, trying desperately to make it warm again, to do anything to bring back the light and heat that kept the dark and cold nothingness at bay. At last, in her worst nightmares, she even set herself on fire, crawling into the fire until she herself was ablaze.

Ember Spark woke with a scream, and covered in a cold lather of sweat. Patting herself down to check, she sighed as she realized she wasn't actually on fire, and she laid her head back down and forced herself to breath calmly. Why had she dreamt something so morose? Her mind leapt to the story of her own name, and the tradition that it came from.

Each winter solstice, on the longest night of the year, the village had a feast that lasted all night. Rations were lifted, casks of ale were opened, and long-hoarded delicacies were brought out. Everypony ate and drank their fill for the first time since summer, and celebrated.

There was an older story that went with the celebration though, and it came with a tradition. Before dusk, a fire would be lit in the village square. A big fire, the biggest of the year. And as the sun went away, the village wouldn't sleep. Instead, all would stay up and celebrate life, dancing around the fire, and keeping it burning all through the longest night, in order that the sun might see it, and return again to start the cycle of the new year.

Ember Spark had been named for that night, for the fire kept burning to relight the sun for a new year, and her parents had told her the story as far back as she could remember. Of course, when she grew older, she learned it was merely the sort of celebration that lead stallions and mares to get a bit overly friendly with one another in that way which leads to a foal some months later.

Still though, the thought stuck with Ember and she laid in her loft. The tradition of the solstice fire was to bring back the sun, and the sun was going away. Could she... No, it was silly.

----

Three weeks later, the first frost came.

----

A week after that, the first blizzard.

----

Two days later, Ember Spark stood beside her mother as they lowered her grandfather into the ground beside his beloved Maudie. The stubborn old stallion had insisted on living alone in the same house he'd built with his wife decades before. It'd been nearly a mile from the village, and when the snows came, they managed to snuff out his fire, and he'd been unable to relight it. After the worst of the weather had subsided, Ember had found him in his bed, clutching a bracelet he'd given his wife when they'd first been married.

The sun was going away, and it had killed her grandpa. Ember decided she had to do something about that.

----

Sneaking into the storehouse, Ember felt guilty. The fishing season had been even shorter than usual, and supplies for the winter were going to be very limited for everypony. But, she rationalized, she was taking barely 1/4 of what she would if she stayed through the winter. It was technically a net gain for the village, even if she was taking her cut up front.

Later that night, while her mother was working in the smokehouse, drying the last of the season's fish, Ember packed her bags. She didn't take much, mostly the smoked fish and dried fruit she'd pilfered earlier, along with some basic outdoor requirements, including a knife, flint, blanket, twine, waterskin, and a simple compass her grandfather had given her for her twelfth birthday. She left a simple note for her mother, promising her she'd return some day if she could, and then left.

----

The first two days, she flew south, following the coastline as much as she could. The sun always went south in the winter, just like the birds, so she figured that was the best place to start her search. She wasn't sure where the sun went at night, but if she kept following it as best as she could, she was convinced she could get there eventually. What to do after that, she had no idea.

A week into her trip, she'd left the coast behind and turned inland. Here, the land was much flatter, with terrain barely climbing above the sea in the form of small hills, rather than imposing peaks. Even with the absence of snow though, the weather remained cold. She found it interesting how the smells changed though. Without the brine overtones of the sea, so many other odors came through. The scent of pine was her favorite though. Back in Gründale, nothing grew much taller than heather, save a few hardy scrubs here and there. Now, she found herself soaring over vast forest of evergreens, and the wind was alive with the scent of boreal forest.

Then, she scented something new. It was strong, acidic, and suddenly familiar. Fire. It was almost dusk, and normally she'd fly for another few hours still, but she'd been alone for a week now, and the prospect of company was appealing. She surveyed the horizon and could just make out a thin plume of smoke against the evening sky. She found a small clearing nearby to land in, then trotted under the huge pines toward the flickering orange light.

"Hello?" Ember called. "Anypony there?"

She heard a grunt and some hurried rustling noises, as well as something that sounded like a metallic clinking.

"Hello?" She called again.

"Stop right there!" The voice was deep and undoubtedly male.

Ember stopped in her tracks. "I don't mean any harm!"

She heard twigs crack underhoof as a figure stepped into her line of sight. As it did so, she realized from the silhouette, she was facing a griffon, and not just that, but he was carrying a spear as well.

"Who are you?" the griffon demanded.

"My name is Ember Spark."

"What are you doing here?"

"I... I, saw your fire, and wanted a bit of company."

The griffon snorted. "Company? You're a pony, what're you trying to pull?"

Ember wasn't sure how to react. "I, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I didn't know who's fire it was and... Well, it's just I've been flying for a week and..." She thought back to her grandfather's story. "And I have some smoked salmon to share, if you want some."

The griffon rested the butt of his spear on the ground, seeming to relax a bit. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, just, can I maybe share your fire for a bit?"

The griffon stomped up to Ember, examining her. He stood a full head taller than her, and was dressed in rather worn looking leather armor. When he turned toward the light, Ember could see he was missing one eye.

"Fine," he declared. "You don't look that dangerous, and I haven't had proper fish in ages." He turned and plodded back to the fire, sitting down on a log and leaning his spear against a nearby tree in easy reach.

Nervously, Ember joined him. Sitting down, she rummaged through her pack and pulled out a small satchel of paper-wrapped salmon. She held a piece out to the griffon, who snatched it from her quickly before taking a large bite with his cracked beak.

"You're welcome," Ember muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" He said.

"Nothing! Nevermind."

The two sat in silence for several minutes as the griffon finished the rest of the salmon. Licking his beak afterwards, he pulled a flask out of his own bag and took a sip, before looking across at Ember.

Ember said nothing, and just sat quietly.

"You want some?" The griffon finally offered, after taking a gulp.

Never one to really drink, Ember still thought it might be rude to refuse. "Yes, please."

Capping the flask, the griffon tossed it to her.

Ember caught it, then opened it and sniffed. She felt her nose hairs curl, but took a sip anyway. The liquid burned her throat on contact, causing her to cough. The cough made it worse, as some of the horrid whiskey shot up into her nose leading to even more coughing and sputtering.

Across the fire, the griffon laughed. "What's the matter, pony? Can't take a real drink?"

Ember held up a hoof to say "one moment" while she continued to cough. When she'd finally recovered her wits, she looked up. "My grandpa said griffon whiskey was the best he'd ever had, but that was like gargling a burning dung heap!"

The griffon went dead quiet.

Realizing what she'd just said, Ember sucked in a deep breath, her wings tensing to take flight in an instant if needed.

Then the griffon laughed again. "Yes," he said, still chuckling. "Exactly my kind of whiskey!"

Ember let herself relax, and laughed a bit as well. "Seriously? Is it all that bad?"

"It used to be better," the griffon said. "In the old days. But elderflower and the other herbs are so hard to find now, so only the richest can afford proper whiskey. The rest of us wretches make do with this 'dung heap' rotgut."

"I'm sorry," Ember said reflexively.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry the sun's going away. It's hurting my village too. My grandpa died in a blizzard, in his own home just over a week ago."

"It's not your fault, pony. Not like you can do anything about it."

"I'm gonna try though."

"Ha! Good luck on that!"

"No, seriously. I'm going to go find out where the sun is going and try to get it to come back."

The griffon tilted his head, looking at Ember with his one good eye. "Very well, I can see you are quite serious."

"Umm, thanks?"

"So, you want to hunt down the sun?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, little pony, have you ever hunted before?"

As a pony, Ember didn't hunt. Ponies were mostly vegetarian, she knew, though pegasi had developed a taste for fish, especially in the far north, where it was a necessity for survival. She shook her head.

"Well, we griffons are great hunters. And you know what the easiest way is to catch your prey?"

Ember shook her head again.

"Find it where it sleeps."

"Where the sun sleeps?"

"Yes," the griffon said. "Go hunt the sun in its western bed."

She hadn't thought of that. The sun obviously had to go some place at night. And it did always go west throughout the day, so was there some place where the sun slept through the night? She pulled out her compass to figure out which way was west. The stupid thing had been giving her trouble the entire trip, forcing her to rely on landmarks like coasts and rivers to navigate.

As she fiddled with the compass—its needle always got stuck—the griffon stepped toward her. She flinched, but tried to pretend she hadn't.

"You said your grandpa liked griffon whiskey?"

"Umm, yes," Ember replied.

The griffon looked down at the compass and held out a talon. "May I?"

Ember hoofed over the compass. The griffon turned it over and admired the etched initials on the case, then, turning it back over, flicked it twice on one side with a claw and handed it back. The needle now floated freely.

"I am sorry to hear Sigi is dead."

Ember's eyes lit up. "Wait! You knew my grandpa?"

The old griffon smiled. "We had better whiskey in those days. Though I'm happy to know Gründale's salmon is still as good as ever."

Wings twitching with emotion, Ember felt a tear form in her eye. "You... you were at the outpost near Gründale, weren't you?"

"Geir, at your service." The griffon saluted. "And yes, I ran it for many years. Sigi was one of the only ponies to visit, and certainly the only one to do so regularly."

"So what are you doing way out here now?"

"The same as you, looking for a bit of warmth in a world slowly freezing."

"I'm going to fix it," Ember said, determination in her voice.

A now much warmer smile came across Geir's face. "Strangely enough, I almost believe you might."

----

The two had talked long into the night, taking breaks only to replenish the fire. They'd shared stories of Siegfried, one as a friend, one as a granddaughter. Geir had been genuinely sad to hear of his passing, but also glad to hear the stallion had gone out just as stubborn as ever, and that he'd never abandoned Gründale, despite the villages hardships. He'd never met Matilda, as the two had only just gotten married when he'd last seen Sigi. The passes had frozen over not long after that, and never reopened.

Ember told stories of her grandfather as a wise old stallion, and Geir told them of him as a foolish young one. That night, beneath the pines and the infinite stars, Ember slept better than she had in years.

----

The next morning, per the advice of Geir, Ember headed south. The griffon had suggested that if there really were a western bed, then her best bet would be to fly south until she was somewhere the sun passed directly overhead, then follow it west until she caught it.

Ember Spark flew for nearly two more weeks as she headed south. As she did so, the air gradually warmed, and the terrain beneath her became more and more alien. Gone were the pines and the mountain peaks. They gave way to vast plains and forests made of strange, broad leafed trees that grew branches nearly as big as their own trunks.

She stopped once or twice at villages, and found the ponies in each to be oblivious to the encroaching darkness. Here, it was still warm in the summer, and winter was nothing more than a nuisance, so they thought little for shortened days.

Then she came to the jungles. She'd heard stories of the tropics, but experiencing it was something else entirely. The air was so thick with moisture her feathers would bead up the moment she landed anywhere. The trees were so thick with vibrant green life that it was impossible to land almost anywhere. The rare exceptions were a few ridges, and of course, the beaches.

The beaches were nothing like that dismal seashore back in Gründale. No gray rocks and dark waters here. Instead, bright nearly blindingly-white sand, and water clearer than even the clearest stream back home. Just offshore, reefs teeming with fish more colorful than even the most outlandish birds. And it was warm!

More warmth than she'd ever felt in her life. She'd had no idea that a pony could actually be too warm. But she was. She was sweating, her coat lathering up even when she rested, so she did something she'd never really thought of before. She went swimming.

Now, she'd learned to swim when she was young. Gründale was a seafaring town, and if a pony didn't learn to swim, then that pony was a lot less likely to live very long. But nopony went swimming on purpose in Gründale, not in that icy water. Swimming was a survival skill, nothing more. But here, with the sun directly overhead, with her own body actually protesting the heat, the cool relief of the ocean seemed ideal. So she waded in.

Swimming was wonderful! Fantastic! Amazing even! The water was cooler than the air, but still quite comfortable. As she pumped her wings through the liquid, she looked down and saw the little fish darting through the corals beneath her. It was, she realized, a lot like flying in slow motion. Though, she had to admit, it did sting the eyes a lot more.

That night, Ember set up camp on the edge of the beach, just where it joined the jungle. She watched the sun go down over the horizon and, looking at her compass, realized it was almost directly west of her now. Tomorrow it'd be time to head out. For tonight though, she reveled in the fact that here, in mid winter, she could sleep outdoors without even a blanket, and splash in a sea so warm that she didn't even need a fire to dry off afterward. Yes, she thought, this is what the world is supposed to be like. Then she thought back to the blizzard that had killed her grandfather, and imagined what even this paradise might be like by the time she was his age. Would this wonderful beach be just as dark and foreboding as the shore of Gründale? She couldn't let that happen.

----

West was a tenuous proposition it turned out. Ember started her morning by circling as high as she could on the warm thermals coming off the beach and nearby cliffs. Thousands of feet into the air, she looked to the west, looking for any sign of land or other detail. But she saw nothing but an infinite blue sea and infinite blue sky. With such a perfect horizon, the two almost seemed to be reflections of one another, but... without some detail to guide her path, she realized she'd be relying almost entirely on her compass, and she had no idea how far the next patch of land might be.

Yes, as a pegasus, she could stop to rest on a cloud if required, but... that was always risky. Clouds were notoriously fickle, coming and going as they pleased. A nice fluffy one could make for a good nap, but... a pony never knew where she might drift in her sleep. Worse still, some clouds simply faded away without warning, and you never knew when—or if—another might appear. So, as Ember looked toward the western sky, the unbroken blue was rather unnerving, despite its surface beauty.

Psyching herself up, Ember finally departed the beach, a couple hours after sunrise. She rose again on the thermals, as high as she could, then headed west, checking her compass every 10 minutes or so to maintain course.

The first few hours went by without issue. The next few as well. Sometime well into the afternoon though, she started to get hungry. There was no place to land though, so, after a brief bit of tumbling, she managed to pull a few bites to eat from her bag and ate them in flight, slowing a bit to make it easier.

As the sun came to her fore in the late afternoon, Ember was relived she could stop checking the compass, and instead just follow the sun itself toward the horizon.

As the giant orb neared the horizon itself, Ember got excited. She hoped, this close to thing, she'd see where it actually went to rest. A few minutes later though, she was back to disappointment as the entire thing disappeared once again below the horizon. Still she flew on though.

As darkness came over the world, Ember realized she was becoming genuinely exhausted. The past few weeks had really built up her endurance, but even then, she had limits, and they were now fast approaching. Yet there was still no land in sight. She pressed on for several more hours, and finally, finally found a small cloud just large enough to support her weight. It wasn't much larger than her old bed, and as such, would drift wildly during the night, even in the slightest breeze, but she didn't care. She reached it, collapsed, and was asleep within moments, taking just enough time to squeeze a few deep draughts of water from it to drink.

----

Ember woke falling. Her mind had just begun to recohere as she felt her rear hooves slipping over the lip of the cloud, and then felt the rest of it sliding out from under here before she could react. Her wings sprung out instinctually, and a moment later she was flying under her own power. She looked back to the cloud she'd slept on, and found it merely a wisp of vapor, quickly dissipating as the early morning sun warmed it. She felt tired still, but there was no option but to start flying again.

Hours later, she had another in-flight meal, and decided to start looking for a resting place early this time. She told herself if she found a cloud of any kind, she'd stop, even if it wasn't yet dark.

But no clouds appeared.

And clouds continued to not appear.

As the sun went down, she still had not seen a single place to rest. And hours after dark, when she could barely see at all, she knew she was in real trouble.

So, she did the only thing she could think of. She'd been swimming before. She could swim again. Surely floating beat one more minute of flapping her aching wings.

As she approached the sea, she put her hooves down, her exhausted mind reflexively going into a normal landing. The splash of water made her more alert though, and she quickly went to floating.

The first thing she realized was that while her pack itself was waterproof on the outside, the contents weren't, and as they filled with seawater, she knew most of it was going to be ruined.

The second thing she realized was that while swimming a few lengths away from a beach for an hour was fun, treading water in open ocean while exhausted was not. Yes, it let her rest her tired flight muscles, but she needed sleep, and there was no way to get that here.

The third thing she realized was that pegasi feathers don't work very well when wet. After twenty minutes or so treading water with her hooves, she tried to get airborne again. But there was no way to take off when treading water. Her wings beat uselessly against the surface, slapping and smacking the waves to no avail.

She turned to the contests of her bags. She found her waterskin and realized it might just be able to float if she emptied the contents. As she was about to pour out the water, she thought better of it, and drank it instead, even though she wasn't that thirsty. Blowing into it, the skin inflated slightly, and Ember found she was able to hang onto it to float.

After some more time floating in the waves, she managed to tie the waterskin around her neck, just under her skin. If she relaxed, and let herself float onto her back, it was enough to make sure her nose and mouth stayed above water, even without effort and she drifted into a dreamless sleep, floating in the open sea.

----

Ember woke to the feeling of something scaly gliding against her leg. As panic flooded her brain, she was instantly alert, treading water upright and realizing just how in trouble she was. The sun was just coming up, casting a faint orange glow across the sea.

A gray fin broke the surface nearby and Ember's heart began to race faster than it ever had. She'd been afraid many times in her life, but it was her first experience with true and genuine terror. She spun slowly, tracking the fin as it circled her position. She found her knife and held it, unsure exactly what she could really do against a predator born to the sea.

Then another fin appeared. This one was gold, and flashed only briefly above the surface before disappearing again. Ember stared intently where it had been, and saw another brief flash of gold just beneath the surface. Then a bright blue light flashed near the gray shark fin. More bright flashes followed, and Ember had no idea what was happening, and wasn't sure whether to be happy or even more afraid when the shark's fin disappeared from view.

A moment later, she felt something slide past her again. She turned to look, but before she could react further, something broke the surface a few feet away.

It was a pony. Or, a pony's head at least. It was the same gold color as she'd seen earlier and the surface, and had sheen unlike any fur she'd ever seen.

"Hi!" The golden face said.

Ember nearly fainted. Only the adrenaline from the near-death encounter kept her alert. "Who are you?"

The other smiled. "I'm Nāmaka."

Ember looked down and saw shimmering golden fins beneath the waves. "And you're a... a... fish pony?"

Nāmaka giggled. "We prefer 'siren' but yes, I am a pony of the sea."

"Oh good," Ember said. "As long as you're not a shark." And with that, she finally fainted.

----

Ember awoke some unknown time later, and found herself deep beneath the sea in a cave surrounded by warm currents. Realizing she could still breath, and even see, her instinct to panic wore off. As she explored her situation, she found a magical bubble of air covering her head, and even when she took the deepest breaths, or exhaled them, it stayed almost perfectly the same size.

Venturing out of the cave, Ember found herself in a veritable city of sirens. Dozens swam between the coral towers and caves, their flowing rear fins somehow seeming to belong to the same creature as their forehooves. It should be a discordant assembly, but as they swam, Ember saw it as nothing but graceful beauty. It probably helped that every one of them shimmered in the brightest colors as well.

As she stared, Nāmaka swam up to her. "What do you think?" The golden siren said.

"It's... like nothing I've ever seen." Ember held up her hooves in a shrug. "I don't know what to even say."

Smiling, Nāmaka rested a hoof on her shoulder. "That's as good of a response as any. But I have to ask, what are you, a pegasus, doing so far from shore? We've seen no boats nor anything of the kind for leagues. How did you get here?"

"I flew." Ember said. "For days."

"No wonder you were so exhausted then. I've never seen a pony sleep so long."

Ember marveled at how the siren's words were as clear as any, yet her mouth was forming them in water. The siren seemed to breath just as she did, yet water, rather than air. "How long as I asleep?" Ember asked.

"Nearly a full day."

Ember was surprised, she'd only slept that long once her in life, and that'd been a terrible flu. "Well thank you for letting me rest here, and for saving me. If there's anyway I can repay you—"

"Think nothing of it," Nāmaka interrupted. "Though if you have any tales of the land, I would be glad to hear them. It has been ages since I last talked with a landwalker."

"You know of us?"

"Of course!"

"Sorry, I just..." Ember hesitated. "Most ponies on the land think sirens are a myth. Just a story sailors tell."

"Really? We used to trade with landwalkers regularly. Though it has been some time I suppose. The boats stopped coming and, well, we never really wanted to cross the colder sea."

"Colder sea?"

"The sea you probably flew over. It used to be as warm as that here, but the current has grown colder in the past decades, making it a daring swim for any of us."

"Ah, it's happening here then too," Ember said.

"Pardon me?"

"The sun is going away. The world is getting colder and colder. I'm from far to the north, and my entire valley is being covered in ice. Everywhere I've been, the days are shorter, the nights longer, and things are getting colder. It's like the sun has given up."

"Strange that you should say this. Our own astronomers have been recording something similar."

"That's why I'm here. I'm trying to find the sun and bring it back. A griffon I met told me to catch it in its western bed, so I've been flying west for days."

Nāmaka's eye lit up. "You seek the Cradle?"

"Umm... maybe?"

"My dear pony, you've found it! We are the people under the sun!"

Trying not to let the confusion show too obviously on her face, Ember replied. "But... you're underwater."

"And why do you think the water here is so warm?"

"Volcanoes?" Ember guessed.

"No!" Nāmaka laughed. "This the archipelago of the sun's nightly rest!"

Ember couldn't hide her confusion.

"This is the 'western bed' you spoke of! Come! I'll show you!"

Nāmaka took Ember by the hoof and pulled her through the water, over corals and through arches for what felt like far too long to not be exhausted herself, yet the siren swam on seemingly tireless.

Then they came to the surface, and there Nāmaka pointed toward a barren peak a few miles away. It looked like a volcano, with a cone going to a flattened top where a crater should be.

"That," Nāmaka said. "Is where the sun sleeps. As it does, it warms all the sea nearby, letting us sirens make our home here comfortably, even surrounded by the chilling currents on all sides."

"That... That's it?" Ember said. "I guess I expected something more... magical?"

"Wait until sunset. I promise it's a sight you'll never forget."

----

A short while before sunset that night, Nāmaka once again took Ember to the inner archipelago. As the sun came overhead, Ember could feel it's warmth much more directly than even at noon back on the beach days ago. She watched as the massive orb slowly lowered itself toward the horizon, but... instead of disappearing beyond it as it always had, now it settled gently down, aiming for the mountain nearby.

Ember had to keep dipping her head back into the water to cool it, as even through the magical bubble, she could feel her face nearly being burned by the heat. The water around her warmed as well under the heat of the setting sun, and in the distance she could see the soil of the island cracking and hissing as it baked.

Curiously, the sun itself dimmed as soon as it set down on its cradle. The normally actinic orb faded to a dull yellow after just a few minutes, and the heat radiating from it reduced as well.

"If you want to go," Nāmaka said. "Now is the time."

"What?" Ember said. "Just go over there?"

"That is what you came all this way for, isn't it?"

Ember thought, and realized it true. She'd just never expected something so literal. What was she to do, just ask the sun to pretty please come back north? She looked toward Nāmaka, who just smiled, urging her on. So she swam toward the island, making far better time with the help of the breathing bubble spell.

Reaching the scorched beach, she found it just barely tolerable to stand on, as the baked soil hissed as water droplets fell from her fur and feathers. Walking up the beach, she looked up, realizing she stood now just under the limb of the massive, massive orb. The heat here was still intense, but not nearly as searing as she'd feared it might be. The sun, it seemed, genuinely did sleep at night.

But what to do now? She thought for a moment, and decided there was no point in being embarrassed. So she yelled toward the sun. "Oh great sun! Hear me! Please, I beg you, hear my pleas!"

Nothing happened.

Nothing continued to happen.

So Ember Spark tried again.

"Please, oh might sun, listen! I beseech you! I plead with you, come, return to the north, warm the lands once again with your glory!"

Nothing still continued to happen.

"Oh great and powerful sun, ruler of the day and bringing of life to the world! I, a mere pony, know I am not wo—"

"Enough!"

The voice came from far below the orb itself. In fact, it came from somewhere just up the beach. When Ember lowered her gaze, she found herself staring at an elderly white unicorn stallion.

"Oh mighty emissary—"

"I said enough, girl!"

"Sorry."

"Hmph." The unicorn grunted, then made a show of looking her over. "What do you want?"

"I want the sun to return to the north, and make the days once again long, so my people can—"

"I am tired, girl. I do not have the energy I once did."

Ember realized then that this wasn't just an emissary, this was the sun itself she was talking to. "I'm sorry, Mr. sun, but—"

"Sol," the unicorn said. "My name is Sol."

"I am sorry, Sol. But the shorter days are making the world colder, and ponies are suffering for it. I'm from far to the north, where it's worst."

Sol sighed. "I know, and I am sorry, but I am truly, truly tired. I just cannot go on as I used to."

"But you have to!" Ember said. "It's your job!"

Hanging his head, Sol sighed again. "You have no idea, young one. The burden of ten thousand years is immense. I've watched my brethren, up there in the sky, burning for eons, moving through the whole sky. But I am here, warming this one world, alone. I am exhausted, utterly and truly. I am ready to pass on."

"No!" Ember nearly shrieked. "You can't! The world depends on you! The entire world! Every pony, every plant, every creature everywhere will die if you do!"

Walking over to her, Sol patted Ember on the shoulder. "Such a noble girl you are. You want to save the world. But you can't. I am done, my time is at an end and while I am sorry for it, I simply cannot bear this burden any longer."

"Then give it to me!" Ember demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"Give the burden to me. If you want to die, fine, but I won't let you take the world with you."

"You want that I should give you the burden of the sun itself, little filly?"

"Yes, if that's what it takes."

"You have no idea what you're asking for."

"I don't care!" Ember shouted. "I don't care what it costs me!"

Sol laughed. "Maybe you won't now, but will you feel different in a thousand years time? In ten thousand? I wonder."

"Does it matter?" Ember said. "At least for now, let me make a difference."

"You would take on eternity? A lonesome burden where you must carry the weight of the world every day."

"Yes!"

"You can never sleep in."

"Fine!"

"You can take no vacation."

"Agreed!"

"You can never, ever quit!"

"I know!"

"You would do this willingly?"

"Yes! If you won't, somepony has to!"

Sol then smiled. "Then you pass."

"What?" Ember said, confused.

"I have waited hundreds of years to find a replacement. Many have come, and asked, and tried, but all had darker reasons in their hearts. Most wanted power, a few wanted fame. You are the first to have come here for truly selfless reasons, so you have passed the test."

"But..." Ember wasn't sure what to say.

"Kneel." Sol commanded.

Ember did.

"Ember Spark. You are worthy of the greatest burden, that of the world itself. I give to you this day the sun, such that you may shepherd the life of the world with it. Everything under the stars is yours to care for."

Ember felt herself surrounded by a bright glow, as a white, piercing heat centered on her forehead.

"Arise," Sol continued. "Celestia Invictus, Guardian of the Sun!"

Ember looked down at herself. Her coat was now a brilliant white, matching that of Sol's, and she found also a unicorn's horn on her forehead, and she stood taller as well. "Celestia," Sol had called her. It fit.

She looked back and found a mark on her flank, of a blazing sun. It was strange, but it felt like it fit as well. Most important though, she felt a strange connection deep inside her mind, just behind her new horn, and through it she felt the power of the sun itself.

"I promise to guard the world against darkness," Celestia said. "For as long as I shall live, I will bring warmth and light to all."

She concentrated, and felt the giant orb above her warm and begin to float upward. As she lit the sun the first time, Celestia couldn't help but squeal in foalish glee. She'd brought back the sun!