Return of Friendship

Long Ago, there lived the magical land of Equestria.

It was ruled by two regal sisters; one who brought about the day and gave the earth warmth for food and life, and the younger, who brought about the night in order for the land and their subjects to rest. The younger, consumed by her envy for that of her older sister, became a wicked mare of darkness, vowing to shroud the land in eternal night, resulting in her banishment for a thousand years.

On the eve of the younger sister's return, when she would act on her dark plans, six mares joint together in friendship and sought out the younger sister's redemption, using powerful artefacts known as the Elements of Harmony.

These six mares faced many great challenges and trials together, from defeating a swarm queen, defeating and befriending a creature of chaos and disharmony, to eventually the leader of the group rising to the title of Princess herself.

Through each trial, the six mares gained valuable allies and trusted friends of every culture and species. And with each villain arising to challenge them and Equestria, none were victorious. And the land of Equestria lived in harmony and friendship from then on, proving once and for all, that –

“-Friendship is Magic.”

The young dragon laid on a low cut patch of grass, his limbs laid sprayed outward in every direction like a drunk animal. His claws traced over the book, the spine was cracked and bent, seemingly much older than any other book he had borrowed from his father.

“Elements of Harmony...?” His claw scratched the tan scales on his jaw, his attempts of grow spikes there like his father had been in vain. They were stumps and looked very foolish. “Well I guess that friendship wasn't enough in the end.” He spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he threw  the book shut violently.

After a moment, his eyes peered back over the book curiously before returning to the grey skies. “Why does that sound so...familiar?”

Book One: Almira

He had to hurry. He couldn't be too late, he couldn't...not again. He couldn't lose them again.

The figure bound in the direction of the clear field, sheltered slightly off from the empty town that at one time, he had called home.

"C-come on...c-come on." He panted, his muscles ached with every pace. His claws ploughed through the dirt and gravel that dominated the path, the ground twisted and torn by branches of a storm over that land that since a week before, hadn't even existed to the world.

His heart bound through his chest, his senses tore through the air, scanning the area for her familiar scent. Anything that even reminded him of her, assured him that this was real, that he was home. Old books, ink stains and fresh coffee in the morning. Of them. Laughter, dancing in the rain, a royal marriage and child. Sugar and fresh silk. His mind combed through the memories, memories that detected a scent. It was faint, loose in the wind. But it was them. It had to be.

He leapt off the path, his joints sprang into a faster pace, his lungs screamed through lost breath. He could barely see where he was running, whether he was near the town or in the Everfree. His misted eyes stung in the cold, autumn air. He could smell the leaves, they were dead and still clung to the trees, clung to life. He couldn't be too late.

"Come on..." He growled.

Her scent was growing stronger. Their scent, was growing stronger, thicker with life and experience. It wasn't just a dream, he assured himself. A sharp branch scratched against his hind-leg, he snarled in pain, but did not slow. He couldn't. They were real. Equestria was-is real. Ponyville was real, it was there. But where was everypony?

He ran faster.

Tearing through the canopy, the beast gave a high leapt before he stumbled to the ground, his wing burnt and tore a thin scar never the rim of the bone. His jaw clenched, sharp canines gritted together to muffle any sound. He dug his claws into the dirt. It was a small clearing, tight enough for a group to miss. But dragons had very keen senses. His muzzle raised into the air, he swallowed a breath of cold air. He was wheezing.

HIs eyes scanned the area, the scent was strongest here. It was then he saw it, or more appropriately; the wreak.

A golden chariot, speckled with dust and growing vines, it appeared abandoned for quite some time. Nothing else remained.

Bodies would rot away.

He tore his head from the scene, scenes comprised into focusing on the area. It bled of magic, powerful magic.

Many didn't seem to understand magic, whether it was towards the concept that it was a living energy, not just a sprinkle of sparkly dirt or a trick to the eyes. Magic had a scent, along with each person who used it. This magic, this knowledge drenched, thirsty magic clung to every surface and left prints, almost like breadcrumbs . He was a dragon, while extremely resistant towards the energy and its properties that included bending the environment around its user, he could still be effected to some degree. It would definitely need a lot of energy to produce him an instant moustache now.

And Twilight's magic littered the area.

He allowed his senses to run wild, delving into each scent, whether magical or not, and to rest himself on his hind-legs, giving him a chance to analyse his wounds. He had managed to sneak away and hadn't met much conflict, a stray timberwolf and a paddle through Rocky Bottom Bog, although it was easier considering that no Hydra in their right minds would attack a dragon. Gladly, none in these lands had learnt yet of his species general size differed since the last time a dragon had troubled the town. He was only half a head taller than Celestia, rather than the size of a mountain range. It definitely came in handy, but in times of battle, being gigantic could have its uses.

The damage to his wing was minimal, managed with easy flying at not too fast a speed and careful tactics.

Although war at times led to plans going amiss, he continued to dissolve his utmost concentration  into  scene, capturing the soft violet aura that led a swirl fragrant way east. His thoughts felt refreshed, more recent than a lost memory.

Old books, smelly candles and hot chocolate on stormy nights.

Balloons, sugar and confetti.

Dirt, fertiliser and cider.

Animal feed, wet bear and flowers.

Glitter, sterilised needles and fragmented perfume.

Deodorant, fresh clouds and energy drinks.

He sighed. "Hold on girls."

"Spike's coming home."