Chapter One: A Sandy Beginning

Once a fire is snuffed out, the only thing that can be worried about are the embers that are left behind. A roaring raging fire like our world, our home that was once vibrant and filled with life. Now a world turned to embers, and buried under dirt and rubble. A once proud and independent nation, now a shadow of it’s former glory. Once extravagant cities and lush farm land, now turned to rubble, and barren wastes scorched by war and famine. Alliances that had taken decades to form were shattered in several years as the entire world was embroiled in conflict.

Life as we had come to remember, was no more. Memories of life before the war were like a bittersweet dream, ever fleeting in this painful and dull existence that we were forced to suffer through. The few who survived the war now fight for survival in the ruins of our once great nation, doing whatever is necessary to survive in the remains of our home. Every day is a fight for survival, to find the resources necessary to survive in this dead land. I am one of those ponies.

Even amongst all of this destruction, some of us still fight on. Some of us still have hope. Some continue to resist the invaders. I’ve heard stories of ponies that have fought the Griffons where they were weakest, freeing prisoners from their camps, stealing their weapons, and killing their leaders. Yet no matter how much damage the Resistance causes, the enemy always seems to recover. They treat them like they are just a distraction, not a true threat.

Not all of us have placed our faith in the Resistance however. Some of us have united under the guidance of the Elders and their leader, Saint Adonius. Adonius is the one who brought us the Codex Regendi, the holy book that has brought us hope in our forlorn existence. The holy Codex spoke of ponies capable of astounding feats. Being able to traveling at neck breaking speeds, able to smash their enemies with ease, and withstand a direct hit from the Griffon’s terrifying “flintlock muskets”. The same weapons that allowed the Griffons to steamroll over Equestria. The legends said that these Protectors could defeat any enemy with ease. While many are, skeptical of these stories the ponies that follow the Elders believe them wholeheartedly. These mythical Protectors are considered servants of the gods, who will one day return. As it says in the, “Codex Regendi,” a holy book delivered to us by Saint Adonius, “When they come, the earth shall split and the skies will shatter and from the openings, the Divine Protectors will come riding on iron chariots and smite the evil that had destroyed this land,”

Of course it sounds ridiculous, but when you've been pushed to the edge of life, you tend to believe some ridiculous things. At times I found myself flipping through the pages of the book. Maybe they are out there, maybe they are just ghosts and fables, I guess only time will tell.

3/7/2058

South Palomino Desert…

4:24pm…

With my saddlebags secured on my back, I trotted down the central street of town. The sun seemed to beat everypony down as the ground cooked beneath me. The path I walked was just sand, no cobblestone no pavement, nothing. The rusted and unkempt buildings around me creaked and shuddered as a hot breeze blew through. Other ponies shuffled around like zombies as they went about their day. I was returning from out of town, not too far, but just beyond the community farm. It wasn't much of a farm, it was just a tilled field where plants could be grown, surrounded by a decrepit scrap iron fence and guarded by the town militia. The farm only provided a small amount of produce,so we had to ration the food to allow the entire town to eat. The rations aren't much, but they’re better than starving to death in the desert.

My town's name was Faith, named by the Priest who founded it a long time ago. This place was not much of a home, it wasn’t even a normal town, just a string of shacks protected by a bunch of ex-royal guardsmen, all of which supervised by the Elders, ponies whom had lived through the war and weren't taken by the Griffons. A literal Tartarus hole, but it was the only thing we had and it was the only place I knew. We wouldn’t dare leave, the guard forbids it, and even if did get out we would be caught by Griffon search parties for sure. Luckily, they don’t come this far into the desert, they can’t survive out here, but we can. But we wouldn’t make it far either, we sit on a very delicate balance of nature, if one of our resources begins to decline, we will surely fall. But even though the town was falling apart and on edge all the time, it was still home. I had no job here, but, neither did anypony else. Besides the guard, no one really did much besides survive, and tend to their collapsing homes.

Coming to the end of the street I turn right down an alleyway between two shanty homes. The shadow the buildings provide is a welcome relief from the sun. Somehow even though Canterlot, and by extension, Equestria, were no more the sun still rises, and the moon still comes at night. Nopony around me could understand why they still rose and fell, but we were all thankful for it. A gust of warm wind kicked up again as I exited the other side of the alley to see a small shack. The roof was sagging badly and the walls were due to cave in. It had only one door, and lacked windows.

This was my home, even if I regretted seeing it every day. My mother and I lived here, my Dad however had left town a long time ago, along with two others in search of the Divine Protectors. They were sent by the Elders, in a sort of holy march to, “locate the land of gods,” as they put it. Needless to say they never made it back and were pronounced dead by the head guard, Sergeant Shallot. I didn’t want to believe that he had given up on us, I could feel he was still out there, finding a better way not just for himself, but for all of Faith. I loved him, he taught me of the old world, before the invaders came, using books that he had snuck out of the temple. He never got in trouble for that, cause they never found out, luckily. He kept me safe from the dangers of the outside, constantly protecting me from the dangers of the world. He loved me and I knew it, and I refuse to believe he died in the desert for those Elders.

I approach the door of the shack and push it open. The light shines in through the door frame as the building grows brighter. We had little in terms of furniture, a table and two chairs which were held together by tape and hope, a bucket of water which sat over a dimly lit open flame suspended by iron rods, and a few straw pillows in the corner where we slept. A small circular hole was cut into the roof where the fire sat, allowing smoke to leave. We didn’t have much, but we considered ourselves lucky to have what we have.

Mother sat by the fire, using her magic to turn a wooden spoon slowly around in circles as steam and smoke rose past her.

“Mom, I’m home from the farm,” I said pulling off my saddle bag and resting it down on the cooled sand floor of our home. She turned away from the fire, her light purple eyes looking at me, weak with fatigue, her once proud white coat turned a dark grey from smoke and age was illuminated by the dull flames of the fire. Her mane, now a deep shade of blue, was wrinkled, frayed, and curled down her neck, it glistened lightly. Her tail shared the same quality and style, being almost the same in length. Her legs, crossed and sitting, had turned darker as they went down as she aged, nearly matching the same color of her hoofs.

When Dad left, she had sunken into a deep depression. And having the head of the guard pronounce him dead finally broke her. She now stay here, a broken mare, stressed out of her mind and constantly worried about me.

“Oh, you’re back, thank heavens, you took a while,” She stood up and gave me a weak, yet warm hug, “Tell me, did the guard give you their table scraps again?” She said looking me in the eye while her fore hooves rested on my shoulder. Her tone had shifted from worry to discontent when I opened the bag. Inside, at the bottom, rested two celery stalks, two carrots, and one potato. She shook her head, and picked up the bag with her magic, taking it over to the fire.

“Those lousy guards, what good are they? They call this a week's ration?” She was clearly disappointed. She sat down again and began unpacking the things from the bag, and immediately began chopping them up with a sharpened piece of scrap metal. She began to speak to herself, something that she does a lot after Dad had gone away.

“Those bastards are sitting on the only stockpile we have, and they can't give us just enough food for the week?” She said as the knife shook in her horns grasp out of rage mixed frustration. My mother never did like the guard. She saw them as cowards, she felt they shouldn’t let the Elders walk over them, telling them how to act, what to do, and how to do it. To her, the Elders are the ones who killed Dad. I have to be their for her, without me, she has nothing more in this life. I’m afraid to leave her alone sometimes, I’m not sure what I’ll come home to if things get worse. My mom was the only family I had left, and she meant the world to me, I could never let any harm come to her. And if something did happen to her, I would stop for nothing until the pony that wronged her was dead. Family is a bond that lasts forever, even through death.

Some time went by and the sun had sunk deeper in the sky. We had prepared the weeks stew and had put it way in a cooling pit. This was to keep the food, somewhat fresh, well as fresh as we could get it. Once we had finished our daily meal we made sure our hut was safe for the night. We sit near the smoldering ashes of the fire, it crackled and sometimes shifted giving off bursts of ashes that shot up into the air. I stared and watched the charred wood collapse on itself as my mother sat and watched as well. We would do this time to time, we would just stare, Father would usually tell stories in this time, but ever since he left, the house felt like it was just a little bit smaller.

“Azalea,” She said softly. My eyes lifted away from the pit and gazed up to her.

“Yes mom?” I asked. She continued to stare at the fire, her eyes unblinking, lost in thought.

“Our time here in Faith is growing shorter, and when this town's time is up, and we must leave, I want you to go, never look back,” She said suddenly very sternly. I cocked my head a bit. What did she mean?

“I don’t understand what do you mean, never look back?” I asked shifting my full gaze to her. Now her head tilted down wards a bit.

“You have your whole life ahead of you, and time is one thing that everypony is running low on, I’m not saying this day will come tomorrow, but when it does, I want you to remember one thing,” Saying this she turned away from the fire and looked at me, a glistening in her eye. She put a hoof under my chin, lifting my head to come even with hers.

“This life will try and take everything from you, don’t let it. At any chance you get, run and never stop, I made that mistake of stopping and look where that got me,” She closed her eyes as a tear fell out and hit the sand, “I fell in love with a pony I couldn’t live without, and now I lay here, broken. Don’t let anyone down, and never let them go,” She opened her eyes again this time with focus and sternness, “Even me, you will learn to forget me, I will come to terms with that, and so will you, I believe that to be true,”

“Mom, I will never leave you, your family, and family stick toge-,” Before I could finish she placed a hoof over my snout.

“Yes, but, you're old enough to understand that in this unpredictable world we live, in it's kill or be killed, and I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt, or heavens above forbid, die because of me. I already failed once, and I will not let that happen again,” She turned to me fully, her silhouette illuminated by the dying flames of the fire.

“Family must learn when to say goodbye, no matter how hard it is,” She placed her hoof on my shoulders. Her pupils locking with mine. Tears began to swell in my eyes. The thought of leaving my mom alone was, something I just couldn’t come to terms with. I had always been with her. I’ve never left her side, I was always too afraid to.

“I want the best for you, trust me, mother knows best, can you trust me?” She asked. A warm but sad smile grew onto her face. I guess she was right.

“Yes mom,” Without hesitation she brought me into a hug as her chest shook with slow sobs as she leaned against me.

“Thank you, that means the world to me,”

I know mom, I know...