Untitled Documents

Compass Rose stood at a fork in the road, squinting up at the position of the sun.

Noon. It was noon.

Taking out her canteen to drink, she took a long draught before corking it once more. It just wouldn’t do to drink all of her water without having found a replenishable source. Glancing down the road she intended to venture, she could see the forest overtaking the land, encroaching onto the main road as far up as the path just a few hundred metres ahead of her. As her gaze shifted, it was clear what the main catalyst to the overgrowth was.

The Everfree. A place where monsters are born, or so she was told. It was stories like those that gave a sense of awe and wonder to her childhood. They were what kept her up at night having nightmares, or dreams of exploring ruins and fighting them herself. Legends of six mares and their quest to bring Harmony and Friendship to all those who would listen, and her dream to become just like one of them. Fighting off evil villains and monstrous beasts, keeping balance in the world around them, saving the world; nothing that held any credence. Tales to astonish.

Only tall tales.

Stories that had long since faded with time. Long since faded with age. That had long since died with the ponies that lived them.

Compass Rose didn’t come out here to prove them wrong, or to prove them right. She didn’t come to disrespect the dead and riotously disrupt the landscape, nor was she in any mindset to do anything of the like. She had come out here to explore. She had taken so many long hours convincing her exploration guild to let her come back here. To let her come back to what was once known as Ponyville. Rose had fought.

They told her there was nothing to come back to. They told her nothing was left behind. They told her it was all gone. That all of it was explored, and that there was no more to be had. Of course, that was a lie. It was always a lie.

Nopony had come to know these ruins since they first fell. Left to grow on their own by nature’s power. All the records, if dug deep enough, showed no indication of any attempts at searching the Old World. The stories people, not just ponies, shared were from those that remained yet from those times of benevolent sovereignty and harmony. Just by looking at the path she traversed now, it was clear.

Compass Rose was the first to come here in a long time. A very, very long time indeed. The crumbling monument of a once great crystal palace stood drearily at the center of the village. The crystal itself weathered and worn, it’s luster all but a memory. The houses stood as memoirs of joyful days long gone, their sagging roofs and sunbleached colours a testament to the effects of time. Standing from a distance, it beckoned her to come forward.

Grass and saplings had taken root where the path would’ve once been clear. Rose knew where she was stepping, but she tread carefully just the same. There was no telling what traps lay hidden underneath, set by the forest itself. Grass knots and sinkholes, an ambush by animals or the common timberwolf. She could never be too careful, and she stayed close to the shade provided by the canopy of nearby trees. Even then, she remained vigilant, never staying in one spot for too long. To remain still may have spelled a death sentence in open areas like this, and she wasn’t planning on doing so right then.

A sign lay crooked, still standing high with one post of a foot thick of wood. The other leg had been eaten away by termites and rot, the one still standing not far behind. “We..ome .o P..yv..l.e” the sign read. Letters were missing, and those that remained were only barely legible. Faded and worn away. Compass Rose tread towards it with a wonder and sadness in her eyes, seeing for the first time an artifact, a true memory of the olden days. She felt her hoof along its grain, and she breathed in the scent it gave off.

Green. It smelt like green.

Images of old tree stumps covered in moss and the memory of long days out venturing filled Compass’ mind, and she smiled morosely at the sign itself. All that was needed to divine it’s past was a good imagination; she could see the ponies that would’ve broken into happiness at the sight of the post. “Welcome to Ponyville!” It would have portrayed brightly, inviting new tenants and visitors to enjoy their stay. A freshly trodden path, continuously being travelled and stepped to enter and exit. Well kept borders to avoid overgrowth and lovingly maintained houses that could only keep one smiling. Bright palettes of pigments decorating everything as far as the eye could see.

Compass Rose opened her eyes and found everything was back to normal. A decrepit failing town, abandoned by those who lived within it in a time gone by. Roads rocky and grassy from the lack of equine interference. Pieces of life scattered every which way and that; a reminder of how things had been. Stepping back onto the main road, no longer clear of obstacles but covered in foliage, grass and flora of all kinds, she took in the sights around her. Houses that all stood as a reminder of what life used to be like. A scooter resting on the corner of a home, grasped in roots and vines by the ground it used to roll across.

Several houses had their roofs caved in, the shingles having been worn away by time and weather alike. Beams that once held the support of said roofs lay crack and splintered, left to rot and be reclaimed by the land it was taken from. Other houses had their glass shattered inwards, no doubt from the freezing and refreezing of the panes from countless moons and winters. Some doors were bashed in, presumably by animals that sensed the food and treasures that had lain within. And others yet seemed to have withstood the test of time, standing tall and proud as the day they were first erected.

One such house was one that was shaped out to look like a carousel, with spindly stanchions stretching from the ground up holding the canopy outward and in place. The roof looked to be of durable material, at first glance fabric. Upon closer inspection however, it looked to be carefully designed hardwood or some sort of light metal. An intriguing combination of elegance and practicality. Not being able to withstand her inner explorer, she creaked open the front door.

The layer of dust from the door alone told her everything she needed to know. She was the first customer this place had seen in ages. Customer, as it were, because this was a store. Telltale signs of a textile business with a cashier up front and ponyquins in the back. Some of the models had unfinished dresses and suits tapered onto them in the hopes of one day being finished. Mothballs hung off of the clothes themselves, a few laying on the ground, with countless dust bunnies in sight. Chests lay scattered about, fabric still trailing from within as they had been hastily packed and closed.

Opening one up, she was more than surprised to see a multitude of precious gemstones. Opening a few more, her eyes glimmered with the loot. Would it be right to rob the dead, though? The long forgotten and unremembered? With a sigh, she closed them all up, save for the first one. Taking a hoofful of sapphires, rubies, peridots, and other unnamed crystals, she closed her eyes. Praying for those she was taking from and asking for a blessing, Compass Rose placed them gently into the treasure pocket of her knapsack.

Upstairs was a whole ‘nother story, literally and figuratively. A few rooms were scattered along a fair corridor, and only two seemed to have been occupied. Opening the seemingly unoccupied rooms, she could only see the same items: a bed, a side table, a desk, and a quaint wardrobe; all for guests. The two that did seem have residents were very telling to say the least.

The room she was most interested in seemed to have been occupied by an adult; a mare like herself. A somewhat lavish four poster bed was set to the side, facing a desk absolutely covered in notes and drawings. More ponyquins were present to the left of a repository of fabrics. A few rolls were still unused, others haphazardly cut from, and even more devoid of any at all. Some drawers were slightly open, and the ponyquins had rough sets of clothing on them; the makings of a fashion line. Peering at the desk filled with post-its, notes and a sewing machine, she found a journal to it’s side.

Daring to crack it open, it’s pages crinkled and shuddered at the effort. Many of the lines were written in perfect precision, each letter blending into the next. To her expectation, a few of the pages crumbled to pieces at the mere touch of her hoof, and many others brittle enough to warrant the same if it weren’t for her gentle touch. Watching as the dates at which each entry was set grew and the amount of remaining pages grew smaller, she ended up at the bookmarked entry. The final one as far as she could see, not careless enough to attempt to bristle through the rest of the pages to prove her theory correct.

Compass Rose found herself drawn to the date at the top, silently muttering it to herself. The 45th of Spring, 1027 C.R. By her calculations, it meant this was at least two hundred years old. A lifetime away. She suddenly realized just how old this town was, and how everything should truly be worn away by Mother Nature by now. Of course, if her studious mind had any credit to her researching, everything was still here because of the ambient magic still present from the days ponies and other creatures used to live here.

The page itself dared to crumble in her hold, and Compass Rose held her tongue on her top lip as she gently let the entry settle down. Brown and a little worn with age, it’s own appearance didn’t seem like much. Yet Rose knew it was special. The last entry before something happened to make it so she never visited her journal again. The writing was notably a little less refined than previous pages, but it still retained its elegant prose.

Dear Diary,

Today was an interesting day. Something happened… I’m still not quite sure what it was, but it has shaken everypony up. It leaves one to wonder what’s going to happen now. Even as I am writing this, I prepare my belongings with my little sister Sweetie Belle in anticipation of departure.

Twilight had said it was nothing more than a small shift in the wind, so to speak. I think it’s much more than that. If she of all ponies, one of the most rational and book-smart (or ‘egghead’, as Rainbow would say) that I know of is preparing to leave Ponyville, then it must be bad. We have all lived here for nearly our entirely lives, minus Twilight and Spike as well as new tenants for obvious reasons, so it is…

It’s a lot more difficult to say goodbye than I thought. Not just I am leaving. Everypony is. Everypony in Equestria, moving. A migration of pony society. Everypony. It’s surprising, actually, how well prepared everypony was in taking the news. Maybe it’s because some were relieved to finally get some peace and quiet since moving near the Everfree. I’m not going to lie, it is a place that is quite like no other, but still.

Maybe we can come back one day, live here again. That would be nice. Unfortunately, that does not seem the case. It looks like we’ve finally filled our stay. The land is kicking us out. Applejack was very surprised when she saw her apples not coming down in one swift buck, as well as realizing that she couldn’t control a saplings growth anymore. Rainbow herself was baffled by the intensity some of the clouds had in being corralled.

As if to add insult to injury, the animals that Fluttershy has taken to caring for have been growing more restless each and every day. She assures us that it is just a passing phase, and that this always happens around the same time of the year. The way her eyes drooped and her expression faltered is enough to tell us all that she knows just as much as us that something is happening.

At least my sister will be in the company of the Crusaders. Celestia knows what would happen if I let that filly sit still for more than a fraction of a second, especially while travelling.

And if you are reading this, whoever is out there, if I have come back for this diary, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for living. And thank you for remembering.

The best of regards,

Rarity