It was a day in Ponyville just like any other: the sun shone dully, caught somewhere between dusk and night, an almost constant wind blew through open windows and doors, and down the streets, moaning quietly as it did so; small clouds lazily drifted by as their larger cousins high in the sky hung still, darkened and black skies, along with a distant sound of thunder giving off the sense of an oncoming storm. The few small pieces of trash left by ponies, along with dead leaves and light brush from the nearby forest fluttered and drifted along the breeze, away from the sounds of thunder and rain, almost as if alive, knowing they should at the very least try to stay dry. The earth was cracked and dry despite the thunder in the distance; the rain never came to Ponyville, not anymore. Shutters gently banged against the sills and the sides of homes, the doors that were either opened or left open creaked and squealed on their hinges.
The sounds of emptiness and ghosts and memories long since past dominated the streets and alleys of the small town; the gentle caress of winds that carried the screams and shouts of ponies, and the cries of foals. The sounds of slow decay and abandon could be heard within the walls of the ransacked shops, empty homes.
Nothing. Nothing was the sound filling Ponyville; its terrible music, its haunting singing, its very breath causing the world to seem more and more bleak, colorless, lifeless, almost, the longer it carried on.
It was an average day in Ponyville, as it had come to be, after the Affliction swept through the once-bustling town.
Through the streets of nothing and ghosts though, tread one single soul. A small boy, a Human boy, or, what could pass for a Human. He was toting a rather large backpack made of scraps, his clothes torn, his too-large stetson hat covering his face, his frail body dirty and damaged. He used to smile, the boy. No longer. Not as long as he was being reminded of what he did. Of the friends he lost, of the innocent lives he was responsible for ending.
It started so simple, the Affliction. To the general public, it was simply a magical experiment gone wrong, a miscalculation, resulting in a child from another world being taken in by princess Twilight. Though in truth, it was something far more than that. The child was quickly integrated into pony society by Twilight Sparkle, who soon became a surrogate mother for him. Days turned to weeks, weeks, to months. He was happy, or at the very least content with his pony life. That's when it happened. He became ill, nothing more than a case of the common cold, something that should have been over in a few short days. Only... it wasn't.
Magic doesn't agree with Humans, as the young Princess of Friendship found out. For nearly a month he was on the verge of death; eating, drinking, breathing, even opening his eyes was impossible for him. Yet somehow, even without food or drink, air, for a month, he lived.
Though the same cannot be said about the princess. She caught his illness not a day after he became well; just a case of the common cold, it seemed. That is, until she lost her magic. Her connection with the magical world was severed, her prowess with spells and incantations, gone. Ponies can't survive without magic; magic is what makes them, sustains them. Without her magic, she barely lasted a week.
The sickness, soon dubbed the "Affliction" spread, not satisfied with only one victim. It soon afflicted every unicorn in his deceased mother's castle, cutting them off from their magical connections. The unicorns were quick, unlike the pegasi, and the earth ponies. Earth ponies had it worst, as they had almost no magic in them to begin with. The Affliction drug out their demise for months.
Potions could not cure it, any kind of magic only made it worse; it fed from the very essence of Equestrian life. When it was done with the citizens of Ponyville, it moved to the land, drinking up the very life from the world around it, getting stronger and larger and more vicious with every mile of earth it consumed. Not even the goddesses of the sun and moon could withstand its hunger.
So the boy lived, still lives, in the empty shell of what was once his home.
As he slowly shuffled down one of the too-familiar streets he started to think. All he can do is think now; there was nobody else left to talk to. He thought about his friends that kept their smiles for him even though they knew he was the one that was going to be their end. He thought about his pony mother, who cried with him in her last hours. He thought about the young red headed filly, just barely older than him whom he liked more than a friend. He thought about the way all of them defended him even while slowly dying.
His head hung lower than before, heavy with the knowledge that he should have let them take him. He should have left; he should have gone into the Everfree. Twilight and his friends would still be alive if he had... Maybe they would have. They might have found a way to cure him, to stop the Affliction.
Before he could think more, a familiar smell alerted him that he had reached his destination. He didn't need to look up to find his way around the trees, he knew that place better than he knew himself. He didn't follow the dirt path that lead to the country home, he never did, not even before. The trees used to almost hum with life, now though, it seemed as if they were trying to suck his right out of him.
Past the trees, into the yard, he stopped. At his feet was one of the ones who was Afflicted. The body of a small dog, hairless, its skin rotten, its eyes a ghostly pale white. He remembered this dog. It was her dog.
He stepped over the body, his desire to enter the home now more than ever. He lightly climbed the wooden stairs, careful not to make too much noise. Not that he would be disturbing anybody by doing so, but the silence had a way of commanding those it surrounded.
The front door opened with a squeak, the screen banging lightly against the inside of the home. He stood there, looking into the dim light inside. The wallpaper was peeling, the floor was a mess, dust lingered everywhere in sight. Everywhere except the table.
He slowly walked inside, closing the door behind him as he did so. The home was quiet, peaceful almost in the quiet of the permanent dusk. The soft thuds of his wrapped feet against the tattered carpet was the only sound other than the wind and and the soft creaking of the house. As he made his way to the table an all too familiar feeling started to build inside of him. As he felt the burning in his nose and the sting behind his eyes, he sat down in the slowly decaying chair that was long ago designated for him.
Four chairs were at the table with him, four plates belonging to four ponies. Four ghosts, four memories. He knew they were there without even having to open his eyes.
Slowly he took off his worn stetson hat, placing it on the table in front of him. Reaching just under the brim, he grasped a crumpled piece of red fabric and pulled it out. Holding it up in front of his face he smoothed it out, revealing it to be a large red bow. Her bow.
His closed eyelids shook with the effort of holding back the tears that threatened to fall.
He was with her every day and night, he was sitting next to her from the very beginning of it. They told her that he lived through it. He told her that he caused it. Even though she knew it was he who did this, she still smiled at him as he held her hoof; she still kissed him back when he said goodbye for the last time.
The tears fell. Two bright blue streaks rolled down his thin face, making shimmering gold trails in the dirt that caked his face. As the glowing droplets of liquid hit the table, ripples of gold washed over the surface.
He opened his eyes, letting the sightless white orbs fall on the bow in his hand. "I'm sorry."
