Another new day dawned upon the land of Equestria, and with it came the royal duty taken upon the sovereign to raise the sun over her kingdom. Much like every day since time immemorial, the act was done with little more than a casual thought. However, had the diurnal dictator stopped to wonder at the outrageous arrogance of her actions, she may have stayed the hand of nature’s fury; sadly she thought nothing of the unnaturalness of her machinations and continued on in her artificial tampering of things best left to the hand of providence.

All across the kingdom, and indeed the world, the signs had been showing – verdant plains of fruited bounty slowly withered and dried up, replaced by coarse sand and choking dust. The seas had become increasingly violent, as if whipped into a frenzy by some divine power, and where many an island once struck forth from the ocean, there was not but shallow waters and whirling tempests. The coastal lands were just as affected; while in one place, what was once shoreline had dried up and turned to barren wastes, another would be deluged under meters of brackish waters.

To the far northlands, the ice had taken on a life of its own, slowly crushing all in its path as it marched ever southwards, its inexorable advance picking up speed each passing day. Even the skies had begun to show their strain – the Jet-stream had changed; no longer a benevolent conveyer of clear blue warmth and humid comfort, it had slowly become a messenger of grey cold currents and dry misery. But even still, with the very earth crying out against her tormentors, none paid heed.

Pegasi still plied the air, bending the weather to their whims, diverting the waters of life to those spots they deemed fit. Their earthbound counterparts were just as guilty, though many would deny such a claim – their supposed bond to the earth all the more ironic when they sought to change the fabric of the land to suit their needs where none ought to be. But none could compare to the perversities of the Unicorns, who often desecrated the very laws of physical being to achieve their own ends.

Case in point; a single, solitary island amidst the southern seas of Equis, where for the past decade the brightest Unicorns of their generation had sought a means of producing energy that perpetuated itself. They had only recently made headway after discovering that what was once thought to represent matter at its purest form was in fact comprised of several components. The energy holding these bonds together would therefore undoubtedly be vast, or so they postulated; perhaps striking it asunder would produce a hitherto inconceivable amount of power.

Three years from that day, they finally achieved a prototype of their device – a strange, dodecahedral sphere of metalloids and precious gems, its surface covered in runes and glyphs meant to magically alter the contents of the sphere in such an order and at such a time as to break the chains of matter and give birth to their vindication. The chairman of the project, a distinguished Unicorn by the name of Precision Lathe, had recently come to the decision of testing the device out on an uninhabited island twenty-two kilometers to the east of their facility.

None of the faculty actually knew what would happen, but none were willing to take a chance with pony lives. How ironic it would be that their concern for the lives of their fellow equine would result in such untold destruction and death. The test commenced on November the third, and it was a surprisingly calm and clear day. With the magical timer set to go off at the hour of 05:29:45, just as the sun was being forcibly raised by the monarchy so many thousands of kilometers away, the various staff, faculty and adjuncts disembarked from the test site and set up observational points at a nine kilometer radius from the epicenter.

It was wise that they did, for the results of their efforts would have undoubtedly destroyed them. The heavens themselves shook as the true nature of their work was let loose upon the world – the sky turned red as a second sun was made manifest, with an intensity beyond even that great celestial ball. The luminous cloud that arose took on the form of a mushroom, which, had it not been so foreboding in its presence, may have seemed comical to a few.

As it rose higher and higher into the morning sky, and as the unearthly light seemed the dim, the true power of their discovery was made apparent. The ring of cumulus that spread further and further outwards gave testament to the extent of the blast, and the whipping waves that materialized had no real rhyme or reason to them, seeming to collide with one another, feeding off each other and only growing bigger. The wall of pressure that passed all those present was enough to damage eardrums and, in the case of some of the more feeble or ill-constituted, outright bowl them over.

But ultimately, it was the island itself that gave proof to the Pandora’s Box that they had unwittingly unleashed upon their world. What was once a small oasis of paradise on a bleak and desolate ocean was now little more than a dead rock. The trees were all broken, pushed outwards from the epicenter and charred to a crisp, the pristine white coral sands were now glass, and the interior earth was now scoured and dead; no signs of life were present, and it was not a far stretch to imagine that every living animal that had called it home were likewise destroyed, vaporized into a fine powder or scalded in the flash.

But perhaps the greatest tragedy was the reaction of those beings who had committed this act of violence against the earth. The Unicorns casually noted that their experiment was a failure; they had sought to produce exponential energy, but instead had accidently created a weapon. But what use was a weapon for a people who knew no need of one? War was an abstract concept for those of Equestria. So with a few dejected sighs and a few disappointed stares, and none too many heads shaking in disbelief, they as one returned to their facility and began from square one – perhaps they had miscalculated a logarithm, or had taken the device to the wrong direction.

Nature has a way, sometimes, of reminding us all of just how small we really are. She occasionally throws up terrible offspring’s of our pride and carelessness to remind us how puny we really are in the face of a tornado, an earthquake, a hurricane or a flood. Our reckless ambitions are often dwarfed by their consequences. Now, with this latest travesty laid against her, she has finally had enough – no longer can she live in harmony with those who seek to tame her for their own ends; the bomb has awakened nature’s wrath, and with it her greatest agent.

For on that desolate island which had once been a wellspring of life, there lived a creature the likes of which none on Equis had known – a bygone relic of a previous age, in a time before either Horse or Dragon, Griffon or Camel, Bull or Buffalo had ever come into being. It was the last of its kind, and it had been in slumber for eons; content to let time pass it by in its perpetual state of blissful slumber. But the actions of that day would forever change it, and the world.

Slowly it awoke, and slowly it realized that it was in agony – its very soul seemed to be on fire as a burn unlike anything it had ever experienced seemed to seep into every bone and facet of its body. Already, massive contusions of keloid scarring had replaced what were once pristine scales and bony plates. Its spinal column was wracked with a whole new level of pain as its back seemed to split in twain and reform into a maleficent parody of its former self.

But perhaps most painful of all was the strange, foreign sensation of a pain not its own – images flashing before its mind, none of which were familiar to the creature. But as the visions began to blend further and further together, one image alone stood out – that of strange, four legged creatures. They were everywhere and wherever they went, only pain and devastation followed; they warped and contorted the natural order of things to suit their own needs, and what they could not bend, they would break.

The final image to cross its mind, in this strange sort of extra-awareness, was that of a flash of brightest light and the sound of a hundred thousand roaring fires echoing the screams of agony that the creature now felt. In its mind there could be no other explanation, the cause of its woe, and indeed the woe of the entire world, was this strange race of quadrupeds who sought to command even the heavens themselves.

Within the beast’s heart arose a black spark of raging hatred for these pests, and it quickly caught and grew, until its very soul was a conflagration of malice! The pain and suffering it felt that day would be avenged a hundred-thousand fold; of this it was most assured. With a mighty upsurge of righteous fury, the beast let loose a booming, metallic roar, as its horribly mangled body finally gave out beneath itself. How it had survived may never be known, but on that day a god of destruction had been born, and in the days to come, the heart of every creature on Equis would tremble in fear at the sound of its very name!

Author's Note

Well, there you have it - the first chapter of the first story I've posted for this site. If you can't already tell, this is going to be a spin on the dark origins of Godzilla whilst taking place in the sickeningly happy backdrop of My Little Pony. I will come right out and say this; I'm not a fan of the cartoon My Little Pony, and I don't intend to make very many friends on this site. That being said, a lot of ponies are going to die in this story - many of them will undoubtedly be someone's favorite cartoon horse, and I don't particularly care. If on the off chance that I haven't already stepped on someone's toes, and you actually like the premise of this story, then I'd like to know, because in all honestly, I can abandon this story now and reformat it into a different (i.e human) setting and place it on my Fanfiction.net account. Whether people like the story or not isn't relevant to the stories progress; I require no 'likes' and care little for personal platitudes - the story will be made one way or another, regardless.
Until the next chapter.
Auf Weidersen.