We were the meek and the small.

We, the children of the Church; the survivors of the blizzard, lived on as trivialities. Adherents, outcasts, and the timid remnants of a novaic age clung to a distant identity divergent, confluent, lapsed.

The Shining Armor fields spared us the horrors of Equestria's endless tundra, powered by things we could no longer comprehend, or control. The world's great memory lived at the end of a puppet string.

Until one pony carried on the legacy of those who tried to kill consequence. She defied the Church; prodding things awake that had best been left in frozen slumber.

Then Equestria started to remember...

...Remember what friendship could be.

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Rated Mature for innuendo, violent action, experimental vulgarities, cagey adjectives, and occasional exploding fruit.

*Not a crossover or alternate universe. Enjoy!