The Balinor Chronicles: The Celestial Herd
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Twilights
Because I once again, almost essentially nicked this from "A Test of Time," I dedicate this chapter to Talkofthetwoneva4. You should read her stories, too. They're really quite good.
They grazed on the outskirts of the Valley, where the grass was tough and stringy and the water tasted strongly of metallic properties. Their hooves made sparks when they slid down the stony mountains. And as the sun slowly sank below the high horizon, the Valley was cloaked in darkness and they who grazed on the Valley's edge became invisible in the night.
These are the Twilights.
There are the Twilights whose coats are as dark as coffee grinds, but not yet as dark as night. These are they whose kinship is not bound by blood, but rather by soul and by spirit. These are they who are Unicorn by birth, Twilight by choice. These are they who live in fear of Solaris and in awe of what lies beyond the mountains. These are they. These are the Twilights.
The look out stands perched upon a steep rise. His leader insisted upon look outs, lest an Elemental sneak up upon the Twilights and try to destroy them once and for all. Most times the only things that wander by the look outs are foals playing or occasionally, a blue and white mare. But toady is different.
For today, he comes. He is different, not like the others of the Valley. He is neither Twilight nor Herd nor Storm, nor any of the other groups that roam the Valley. It stands to reason that He is not even a Unicorn. He has its shape, true enough. He wields a brand of magic that the Unicorns have, though they themselves do not realize it just yet. He blends in with the night, yet is darker then the Twilights. He is himself. He is the waiter.
The Waiter arrives and confronts the look-out, demanding to meet the leader. The look-out is instantly intimidated by The Waiter, and summons his leader. The leader of the band of Twilight is Moloth.
This is Moloth.
This is Moloth, power hungry and looking for the kingship that he has no right to have. This is Moloth, so far the darkest of the Twilights, with his sire's red Fire coat mixing with a mare's coat of all colors. This is Moloth, son of none other than Mulciber's heir, sporting the same ruby-red eyes that the Elemental lays claim to. This is Moloth, of powerful build; tall and strong, long-legged and deep-chested; but jug headed and parrot-mouthed. This is Moloth, with height and strength enough to challenge an Elemental, and, perhaps, win, but neither has fallen that far yet. This is Moloth, possessing his grandsire's temper, although he cannot control it nearly as well. This is Moloth, and Moloth he shall remain.
And Moloth meets with The Waiter. And this is what transpires.
The Waiter speaks frankly to Moloth. He has chosen the Twilights because they are the best, the fastest, the strongest, and the most dedicated. He has chosen the Twilights because their leader is admirable and the Storms are already in decline. He has chosen the Twilights, and he begs for the Twilights to choose him. The Waiter has had many years to practice this speech. He mixes just enough flattery in with the truth to impress the leader of the Twilights. And then he offers Moloth an offer he cannot refuse.
He offers Moloth and his band of Twilights a place of their own. He offers Moloth uncontested rule of his own band of Unicorns. No influence from any other Unicorn, no pesky Elementals sniffing around. Their own land. Moloth's band.
But Moloth, despite his other flaws, is not a bad leader. Quite the opposite, in fact. His unicorns follow him because they want to. His is the most organized, most efficiently run, and most impressive band in the entire Valley. Though temperous, he is fair; though dark-colored, he is powerful. His mares and stallions want to be in his herd, because they know that Moloth will look after them. For Moloth will. He has proven time and time again: he will not fail his band. He may stumble, but then his stride picks up stronger then before.
And Moloth knows that if the Twilights are to survive, they need to leave the Valley. All kings fall – he has learned from Boreas. All oaths are broken – he has learned from Solaris. All heroes die – he has learned from Skwall. But his herd will last forever. Moloth will ensure that, not for himself, but for his followers. Moloth feels he owes them that much.
But The Waiter attaches string, a subtle knot. The Twilights must fight for The Waiter. They will live on his land, so they must pay their dues. Moloth hesitates. He knows this Waiter not, but the lure of freedom is too strong to be denied.
So Moloth accepts The Waiter's offer.