The Last Hour of Canterlot
This story is made to be read while listening to Canterlot Ruins by PonyVisation (Used with permission). The phrases in italics are the same in the music, and you should reach them at around the same time they play.
The hallway was once impressive, you can tell. The marble still retains a sort of ethereal beauty, despite its advanced age. Holes remain, where once, magnificent windows would’ve cast colored light across the floor. Vines have replaced these windows, obscuring much of the sunlight. You continue onwards, into a different room.
What is going on in here...
You find the grand hall, which must have once held parties and meetings. The tattered remains of banners on the walls flutter in a light breeze. A large, old, rickety table stands in the center of the room, barely holding together. A withered apple rests on it, seeming to shine ever so slightly. You pick it up as you leave.
Run...
A crumpled suit of armor lay on the ground.
Run...
The grand staircase is now crumbling, only fragments of a carpet left upon it, faded beyond recognition. Shards of a great window still remain, clinging stubbornly to the frame. A shaft of watery sunlight shines into the room through the plant-choked opening. You step lightly around the fallen stone and fragments of glass, carefully making your way up the staircase. Only one of the two exits is accessible anymore. You move towards it, pausing to pick up a faded pink streamer. This small scrap of the past seems brighter than anything else. You continue onward.
The fate of Equestria, is in your hooves...
You find another grand hall, this one different from the others. A pair of enormous doors stand at the end, broken open, barely clinging to their hinges. Two windows are yet intact, side-by-side. The first depicts six ponies fighting a midnight-black mare, the second with the same ponies turning an odd creature into stone. These ponies were important, obviously, though you doubt much remains about their impact. You turn to leave, stopping as you spot a blue feather wedged into the wall. Like the streamer, it seems brighter than its surroundings. You take it as well.
I’m so sorry...
You find a tower, intact, different from the others. It is made of midnight-black stone, with silver set into it. It almost seems as though a piece of the sky was taken to construct this. You climb to the top, finding what was once an opulent bedroom. The remains of an arcane ritual sit in the center, fragmented to the point that you can’t tell what it was originally intended for. Sorrow seems to cling to this tower, enveloping you like a blanket.
You retreat back down the stairs, and see the silver flare, as though life flows through this place one last time. As you pass, the metal dulls, becoming inert, and the tower loses its light. It is no longer a part of the night sky, but just another ruined building, a testament to what happened to the city. As if to prove a point, the balcony at the top of the tower finally crumbles, falling to the ground. You move away from this lonely edifice, hoping to distance yourself from its feeling of sorrow.
A heart-shaped ruby lay in the grass near the tower, glinting in the sunlight. Next to it, a purple dragon scale, still razor-sharp. The scale is dotted with ink, and slightly burnt. You take both, continuing on your exploration.
Moving through the gardens, you see the overgrown paths, statues hidden by vines, buried, or simply eroded by time. Another fragment lay next to a tree, a blue butterfly hair clip. You take this as well, wandering along the once-pristine paths through wildflowers and growth. Another door, rotten almost to nothing, stands in the faded white marble. You decided to move inside, out of the green tunnels that the gardens have become. Another hall, this one also fragmented. Bits and pieces of spells cling to the masonry, as though refusing to fade from the homes they have claimed for so long. The hall opens into a grand throne room, the end rising to a dais. Upon the dais rest two thrones, directly opposite in composition. On the left, a gold throne inlaid with ivory. The symbol of a sun is etched into the head. Beside it, what was once the perch for an enormous bird, bent and twisted with time.
To the right stands a throne of black obsidian with silver inlay. It bears a crescent moon.
A choked fountain gurgles into a small moat, as though gasping for breath. It pools into a shallow puddle, feeding small plants near it. You decide to continue onward, away from this room.
You pass several crumpled suits of armor, bodies long turned to dust. Scorch marks are also evident, the remnants of some battle, both physical and magical. You come to a rusted iron door, the entrance to another room.
A very valuable lesson to have learned...
Moving through the ancient door, you find the remains of a library, now only consisting of broken bookshelves and books too faded to read. A large hourglass stands in the center, the glass broken, sand long drained. The gold is faded, no longer gleaming. You leave the library, passing another pile of armor. This one is a different make, sharper and more edged than the armor you found previously. Maybe it was another type of guard. A gleam catches your eye, coming from an old book. On the front, in much faded gold, the picture of a unicorn. The title is The Mare in the Moon. It looks as old as this place, and much-loved. You pick it up, deciding to take it with you. Another lost fragment, once important, but no longer.
Outside, you find the remains of two more armor sets. They are larger than those you found before. One is made of bright gold, the other of gleaming silver, both still as beautiful as the day they were forged, even broken as they are. Around them, six gleaming gems lay, beautiful in the fading sunlight. Each, however, has cracked, and lay in pieces, though the shapes can still be discerned: A butterfly, a diamond, a balloon, a lightning bolt, an apple, and a six-pointed star.
Run...
