She never could have seen what would become of her world, how wonderful it was until she stepped away.
Rarity felt the passive bite of the true outdoor air as she stood by the thatched gates of Ponyville, the only entrance through a sloppy wall of rubble and grass. She felt cold, but not chilled from any breeze or a summer night’s embrace. No, this was separate from any brumal crispness entirely. Her core burned like a furnace stoked with fresh wood and oil, but her skin sprouted goosebumps as if she was shoved into a blizzard without wind. It was a strange, gelid sensation that she both could and couldn’t feel, a perception that could only be honestly described by the nuances of spoken language. She would’ve had to distract her mind from dwelling on the numb biting if her focus hadn’t already been preoccupied with the framed photo she had been holding delicately in her forehooves for the last hour.
The image displayed seven creatures on it, each as distinct from the others as night from day. At the top was an old griffin, greying in the feathers but appearing a few years younger than the mare he held under his wing. Beneath them were arranged four adult hippogriffs, and a youthful albino unicorn with piercing yellow irises. The old mare in the photo bore an uncanny resemblance to Rarity, only much older. A part of her wanted to hide in a cave at the sight of how wrinkled and thin she could become, but that part was silenced by what the photo captured in the family’s faces.
Each face was smiling. But it didn’t feel like the typical family photograph; where the smiles were sincere yet hiding an unstated contempt that would build more with years passing, these smiles felt wholly genuine. The mare’s in particular was a smile Rarity couldn’t look away from. It was small and simple, but the curve of her lips was complimented by a shine in her eyes that she was drawn towards. A shimmer of something she craved to understand, and only now realized she was missing. The thought that the mare in the picture was her both alarmed and comforted her, stirring uncertainty and intrigue.
“I’m glad I found that sort of happiness,” Rarity muttered to herself. She looked to the background of the photograph again, the unmistakable layout of her Manehattan boutique, and laughed emptily. “Let’s hope that for now, I can find a way home.”
Rarity glanced away from the photo when she heard a frustrated grunt, tucking it into the saddlebags sitting at her side. She turned to see the mare who saved her from the fall shoving a stake into the ground a few yards in front of her, nailing a small plank of wood in place. It appeared to have a large iron sandal tacked onto it, the sort of crude protection the old pony tribes used to nail to their hooves.
Rarity had no time to dwell on the implications, unfortunately. At that moment a hazy, translucent figure taking the form of a pony stepped out from the gates, flickering and dancing like a flame while simultaneously maintaining its shape flawlessly. The confusing and conflicting appearance of it sent a surge of shock pulsing through Rarity, she felt her hackles rise as the unrelenting feeling of sheer wrongness caved its shadow in on her again. The creature didn’t seem to take notice of Rarity whatsoever, and walked past her with an unnervingly intense limp. Its hooves stopped at the dust that coated the path out of town, not leaving even a hint of its presence as it stepped calmly towards the grieving mare.
“Periwinkle?” It spoke softly, reaching a hoof out to the pony. Before Rarity could begin to comprehend what she was seeing, the scarred mare screamed in a fit of rage and lashed out at the ghostly figure with brutal punches. Each swing of her hooves resounded with a sickening crack as it struck and obliterated pieces of the entity, sending streaks of glowing light in several directions. Rarity couldn’t help but shriek in shock, the very pony that saved her life was tearing that sorrowful thing to shreds without a hint of remorse.
After leaving nothing but a pale silhouette of the spectre, Periwinkle choked and sobbed in ragged breaths. She sounded tired, distraught, and agonized. But much to Rarity’s growing discomfort, her crying carried the sound of rage more than any sort of sadness or remorse. She watched with startled intrigue as the ethereal pony turned around, the silhouette moulding into a translucent shape that barely resembled the ghostly figure it used to be. The thing just stared with a look of empathy and sorrow at Periwinkle, no sign of pain or even annoyance over what just transpired anywhere in their movements.
“I never got to even touch him since the Surge...” Periwinkle hissed, keeping her gaze firmly on the ground. “An eternity of growing old in this forsaken world, and an eternity since I could even feel his heartbeat. Always just out of reach, always right in front of me. Just like you… just like everyone who wasn’t…”
Periwinkle stayed stooped low, moved only by her own heaving breaths. Rarity wanted to approach, but something held her back. She wasn’t sure if it was how little she knew the mare, or the fiery hatred that scorched her eyes. She vainly reached a hoof out towards her new acquaintance, hoping that perhaps some comfort would be offered to the grieving mare through the gesture. The glowing shape draped what Rarity could only guess was a forehoof over Periwinkle’s shoulder, prompting a few more seconds of tense silence as she broke down completely. Without a sound, Periwinkle fell onto her side.
Rarity decided to give the mare some time alone, turning to search for something to keep her mind occupied while she waited for their departure. She reached for her bag, shuffling through its contents mostly consisting of small tools and medical supplies. She closed her eyes, letting a tense gust of air hiss out from her lips. Everything was wrong with this place, but she couldn’t place her hoof on where to start when the time came to deduce what had changed. Exasperated, Rarity tilted her head skywards, and opened her eyes to let her mind wander.
And then her heart stopped.
Above her head was the expanse of open space, but not in any way she’d ever dreamed of seeing it. The shining sparkles of every tiny star in the sky Rarity had seen since she was a filly were replaced with far-reaching tongues of fire belching from immeasurable spheres of pure light, no bigger than she had seen them before; but far more intricate than the sky had told her. The vicious, blazing tendrils flew out of the infernos that birthed them, and intermingled with every gaseous nebula they could reach, each tuck and twirl of the plasma as defined as the carving on a coin. With every flinch in her focus, a new world was laid bare as Rarity peered into the expanse. She could look to the stars and see every individual eruption without blur, every continent and storm on other worlds was crystal clear, and every image was as crisp to behold as if under a microscope. No object was larger or closer than it had ever been, but the universe was laid bare to her vacant eyes. Her attention darted from planet to planet, star to star, lost in a trance beyond a hope of conscious thought as her head spun like a spool. Until finally, her eyes rested on the void; a near complete blackness that strung every planet, nebula and star together in an intricate web like a great spider’s nest. Rarity swore she could see beyond the limits of the galaxy with just her own eyes. And if she looked deep enough, she felt like she could see beyond the unimaginable depths of the void itself.
And then came the most mesmerizing sight Rarity would ever see again, for a massive shape that held itself beyond the sky, but blocked distant stars rolled across the horizon. Its form and texture was beyond any descriptors in the Ponish lexicon, and held within it a darkness so deep that the emptiness of space itself looked like pale moonlight next to it. Colors bent and curled around it, any form of light and atmosphere were unseeable in its wake. Rarity’s eyes seared with a strained agony as she stared into it, but the shape straight out of damnation seemed to seize her mind and impelled her to keep looking.
Suddenly, her mind returned to her body as if she was a fish being yanked out of the ocean by a hook. A sharp, stinging ache plagued her exposed sclera as she regained awareness, and Rarity couldn’t help but let out a shriek of pain. She wrapped her hooves over her face, pawing at her eyelids as they forced tear-soaked soil out of her eyes.
“Rule one of this life, Ma’am.” She heard Periwinkle hiss bitterly, “ is that you don’t look at the feckin’ sky. And do not ever, ever look into the sun. Ever. Understood?”
All Rarity could do was nod, her head reeling with a lightheaded sensation. The closest comparison her mind could make was a feeling similar ro standing up too fast after riding the Tilt-A-Whirl for three hours straight. She winced as her stomach doubled over, sending her violently retching to the ground.
"Oh for the love of--" Periwinkle scoffed, tucking a foreleg under Rarity's barrel and forcing her to stand. "If you're going to stumble around like a crippled wyvern, I'm not coming with you. Do you want my company, or not?"
"I..." Rarity heaved dryly, trying not to look at the mess she made. "I just need a moment, darling."
"Like hell you do," Periwinkle growled, hooking Rarity's foreleg with her own and dragging her away from the town walls. "We're not sticking around this dunghill just so you can unscramble your brains from your own stupidity. If you want sympathy, don't waste my time."
Taken aback and jostled out of any willpower, Rarity staggered behind Periwinkle, desperately trying to hold her insides together. Despite her clouded thoughts, she could decipher enough to know that she was in for a long, long trek.
Author's Note
A quick update for y'all to let you know that even after a year, this story isn't dead! Just a few roadblocks, I promise the next update will be longer when it arrives.
As always, I appreciate any comments, critiques, criticisms or general feedback.
Until Next Time, God Bless You!
~Amethyst Dawn 
She formed it to sustain us, her children got us killed.
The youthful Unicorn stirred in her bed, an ache running along the upper length of her spine as she stepped into consciousness. Her eyes fluttered, gradually settling her eyelids halfway over her eyes. Everything was still dark, and she felt so very tired. She wondered if she’d even gotten a full night’s sleep.
Slowly, she pulled the heavy covers aside. Immediately, she was met with a chill wind that blasted her from the outside. Swiftly she recovered herself in the thick blanket, now nearly wide awake as the bed beneath her creaked with aged wood. A sound not unlike thunder shook the boutique, causing the Unicorn to shriek and cower out of reflex. Blearily she drug herself out of bed, hoping to close the window. She shrugged off how so very cold and empty her bedroom felt, that would soon pass.
“Come now, Rarity,” she muttered to herself, “this is no time to be scared of the dark.’
She stumbled closer to the small light she had assumed was the window, but suddenly the floor disappeared from under her hooves. She lurched forward, too shocked to catch herself. Her vision adjusted enough to see the rubble of her home just as something clamped down on her tail, leaving her forward half dangling above a mass pile of collapsed mortar and splintered wood. Had she fallen, she was certain that the least that would happen was an impaled leg. She felt her heart slowly escalate its beating until her chest heaved and ached with panic, her lungs racing as fast as her heart as her thoughts were muddled with a thousand foggy questions at once. She continued to stare at the debris, mind preoccupied even as she was pulled up by her saviour.
Her home. Her home was a wreck, and she wanted to know why. A good third of the west wall of her Boutique had crumbled, taking half the floor of her bedroom with it. What was stranger was the overgrowth of luminous moss and vines, as if all the destruction had taken place decades ago. The rotted corpse of an ancient cedar stuck out from the first floor, where she knew the bathroom was. Its sharp, barren branches reaching out to the dark sky like the desperate clawing of the dying breath of a withered beast. Her eyes searched into the landscape outside as the biting cold of the night sank into her bones, and her heart continued to race. Her home was not the only one in ruins. Each building and home she could see was left in ruin, overgrown with the same bluish-black vines. The moss glowed dimly with a sickly chartreuse shine, casting stiff, mangled shadows along the rubble and roads of Ponyville.
“Well then,” A voice spoke from behind her, causing her to jump. She had forgotten to consider the identity of the pony who saved her life, distracted by the carnage outside. She slowly spun around, watching carefully as a periwinkle-blue pony casually stepped towards the stairway. The pony glanced over their right shoulder, and nodded their head in a signal for Rarity to follow. She swallowed a lump in her throat, and ventured forward to meet the new mare.
“So your name is Rarity, eh?” The mare asked blandly as they descended the stairs, an air or suspicion in her voice. Rarity was taken aback by the mare’s forwardness, forcing her mind to focus on one puzzle at a time. Her cheeks grew slightly hot as she remembered talking to herself, but she tried to keep her composure as she responded.
“Why, yes.” She confirmed, stumbling again as her steps dislodged a loose stair with a loud crack. “How… how long were you in there?”
The mare scoffed. “Long enough to watch you bumble about in my bedroom like a drunk hydra, miss.”
Rarity froze in place, unsure if she should feel insulted or horrified. The mare took no notice, trotting into the shop with a proud gait. Gradually, Rarity resumed her own descent, trying her hardest not to examine every inch of the decrepit building. The luminous moss grew more potently on the bottom floor, snaking along the walls and ceiling like an unrestrained fungus and bathing the rooms in the same dim, yellow-green light. Rarity realized just how empty the building felt since she’d woken up, and in spite of the mare rifling through what remained of her kitchen she felt just as alone as if she was in a tomb.
“A tomb…” Rarity repeated under her breath. That one word encompassed everything she felt. The air felt still, even the chill breeze that flew throughout the house felt lifeless and muted. The smooth floor beneath her hooves lacked the bright colors it was supposed to have, and felt somehow more like solid cloud than stone. And the mannequins…
“What happened here?” Rarity pondered, asking nopony in particular. Only now had she noticed just how much her boutique had changed. There were no mannequins, no materials or linens, no needles or chests of gemstones. Instead the main shop had been replaced and renovated, suited more towards the look of an inn that a boutique. The stranger spoke from the kitchen, her blunt tone easily cutting through the suffocating silence.
“What happened?” She chuckled sourly, a loud chopping accompanying the bitter sound. “Where have you been for the past… ever? Place has been like this ever since I moved in, but I doubt it was much different before then. Unless you’re talking about that body on the couch.”
Rarity blinked. A body? Surely the mare was joking, nopony could be that casual about such a morbid thing. She looked around just to be sure, spotting a ring of furniture around what looked like an indoor fire pit, a large couch facing away from her. Cautiously, she stepped toward the loveseat as the sharp squealing of metal echoed from the kitchen.
“Hope you like mushrooms and bitch-root,” the mare called out, a shift in her tone as if she had told a bittersweet joke. “That’s the only thing we eat around here, unless you happen to have some meat on you.”
Rarity wasn’t listening, as much as she tried to. Her expression set in an awkward wince as she squinted at what looked to be a form on the couch. It vaguely resembled a pony in shape, but it was as if somepony had tried to mold a statue from a sort of white-blue mist, and the results fading fast. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like the outline heaved like it was snoring, taking a large breath before disappearing entirely. Once she had blinked, Rarity wasn’t even sure she’d seen anything there at all.
“Miss?” Rarity jumped with a shriek when she noticed that the mare had suddenly appeared beside her, holding a large cast-iron pot on her back. She was giving Rarity an odd look, like the poor seamstress had grown a second head. A large wooden ladle was tucked in her curly raspberry-colored mane just behind her ear, and she held two bowls in her hoof.
But what Rarity couldn’t help but focus on the most was the scar on the mare’s face. Or rather, the scar that was her face. The mare’s facade was calm, and she didn’t show even a hint of being in any pain, but the entire left side of her face was horrifically disfigured. There poor girl’s coat hadn’t grown in on that side, exposing flesh that varied in color from pink to maroon, and blotched with mahogany in some of the deeper areas. It looked as if her face was burned off by some sort of acid, and Rarity could even see the bone in select gaps along the cheek. To make it worse, where Rarity could tell that the right eye was a beautifully healthy lime green, the left was entirely stained a reddish grey to the point where Rarity was shocked that it still had a visible pupil.
Rarity held her eyes firmly shut, holding a hoof to her chest and taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm her thundering heart, and churning stomach. She needed to remain calm, no matter how strange things were. She wasn’t even aware that the sight of those scars had scared her so much. She felt incredibly rude for being so frightened, it wasn’t the poor thing’s fault.
The marred mare moved her focus from Rarity to the couch, her facade dropping into an unreadable grimace. She stared at the furniture silently for a moment, the only sign of movement being the occasional shift in her jaw. From Rarity’s experience with Maud, she could tell that something was going through the mare’s head, but she couldn’t describe what until their lips pressed together in annoyance.
“Well, that’s a shame.” The mare almost hissed, turning away to set the pot into the fire pit. She had spun around so quickly that her tail would have smacked Rarity in the muzzle had she not dodged in time. Rarity glanced between the couch and the mare, now only slightly more certain that she had indeed seen a shape there.
“Was he a friend of yours?” She asked softly, hoping just to keep the mare talking.
“No,” she shot out, too quickly for Rarity’s liking. “I don’t know him, it’s just always a shame when a Spectre fades like that.”
“I see…” Rarity hummed, deciding that now was a good time to get some answers. “And... what exactly is a 'Spectre'?”
That question seemed to really catch the mare’s attention, provoking her to laugh loudly as she set the pot into the fire pit. Her laughter sounded genuine, but still somehow filled with a hidden resentment that caused Rarity’s heart to ache. She shook her head, her loose mane swishing from side to side. Her chimes gradually sounding more mixed between mirth and anguish, growing quieter until eventually the room slipped back into the unbalanced silence. She pulled a lime-colored powder that was glowing dimly out from somewhere in her mane, and flicked the tip of her horn through it. The action sent a flurry of sparks of similar color popping into the wood beneath the pot, quickly consuming the dried twigs and branches to become a full flame.
“You’ve got a strange sense of humor, miss.” The mare muttered, taking the ladle out from her mane and stirring the contents of the pot. “I’n’t likely you ain’t run into any Spectres yet. You’ll forgive me if I find that a fair bit unbelievable, seein’ as how you definitely ain’t from here.”
Rarity stepped around the mare, sitting in one of the chairs and taking several deep breaths. In spite of the warmth of the fire, the air tasted chill as a brisk winter night. The sound of the wooden spoon tapping and sloshing inside the pot was a welcome interruption to the sickening, uneasy stillness of the air, but it wasn’t enough to significantly calm her shaking. She felt so demented, nothing about this morning made any sense.
“And… where is ‘here’, exactly?” Rarity inquired, though she feared she knew the answer. A small part of her hoped she had been kidnapped and shipped away to another land, or that in her slumber the boutique had fallen into a cavernous realm underground. She wanted to believe anything other than the possibility that this was her home. That everything she knew had changed. That she’d slept through the apocalypse.
The mare stopped stirring, and gave Rarity a blank look. A long, unreadable look that set another heavy lump back in Rarity’s throat. It was clear that the gears in her head were spinning as her eyes began to dart along every detail of Rarity’s form. She looked her in the eye, then at her cutie mark, then at her hooves, her coiffure, her posture, everywhere. Something seemed to click in the mare’s mind as her eyes twitched wider.
“Wait a minute…” she muttered, releasing the ladle and stepping back from the pot. Instinctively, Rarity seized the unattended handle in her magic to continue stirring the soup. This seemed to terrify the mare, provoking her to yelp and flinch backwards. Her eyes went as wide as lakes, slowly falling into disturbed slits.Rarity was taken aback by the reaction, refocusing her attention on the frightened pony. She opened her mouth to address her concerns for the mare, but she was cut off.
“How are you doing that?” The mare commanded, her voice low and hostile, and she acted as if she had been threatened. Now Rarity was even more confused, did this Unicorn not know how to use spells?
“It’s magic, darling.” Rarity stated, trying her best not to sound condescending. The strange mare shook her head furiously and turned away, muttering to herself.
“No, damnit! No! It’s not possible!” She grunted, pacing off and disappearing into a nearby hallway. Rarity raised a hoof, smiling nervously.
“I’ll just keep stirring the pot, then?” She called out in a pleading tone. But it was too late, she was left alone in silence once again. She felt her heart grow heavy, and her breathing began to grow rapid and shallow. Her chest ached as if being crushed by a great force, and her vision began to blur. Her mind bent in unnatural shapes to try and figure out what was happening to her as she clutched at her own shoulder.
As if out of nowhere, her head felt a surge of energy flow into it from all angles, hitting with a crash like a tidal wave into the side of a shipwreck. The force of the pulse sent her reeling forward as something that felt like a warm blizzard enveloped her, blurring her vision. She hit the floor with a loud thump, barely conscious enough to navigate herself into landing on her side, sparing her head from a nasty bruising. She stood up with a groan, and looked around. Once again, much to Rarity's annoyance, fear and puzzlement; the Boutique was transformed.
The Inn that she saw in ruins was now alive and thriving, ponies laughing and chattering in lively communion, the painted walls were bright and the floor shone. But, something was blatantly off. The scene was strangely smeared, as if someone has slid an oily cloth across a canvas that hadn’t had a chance to dry. The ponies moved naturally, but their forms stretched and splintered in wild dances as if they were torches in the wind, sprinkles of color flying away and fading like ash. It was like the world was being erased, but the colors were desperately clinging onto their base sketches.
A firm hoof hit the ground behind Rarity, startling her from her confusion. Her neck whipped around, and she saw a massive stallion towering over her as if she was a filly. He was smiling at her broadly, and picked her up with his forelegs. Rarity was surprised by the action, but was more troubled by the fact that she was giggling.
Rarity felt her mouth move to form words that she couldn’t hear, and was too distracted to catch as her face stretched into a wide grin. Her throat felt young and squeaky as it spoke, and her legs seemed stubby as she reached to hug at the stallion’s beard. She had no control over her actions, but she didn’t feel like she should be worried. She felt calm, but confused, as if having no control was good.
It wasn’t long before another stallion, no older than seventeen by the look of him, came racing into view, mouthing words that Rarity couldn’t catch. The older pony laughed, and placed Rarity on the small of his back, walking her towards the polished bar and wrapping his foreleg around the colt. They seemed to be talking to each other in excitement, as if something significant was afoot.
Rarity felt the air grow hot, and thick, but none of the other ponies in the building seemed to notice. Her body moved to catch the stallion’s attention, but quickly smelled the ale on his breath and knew that he wouldn’t be so easily distracted. She returned her attention to the colt, who was smiling widely. He seemed to be beaming with excitement as the older pony extended a hoof for a shake. The younger one failed to contain his enthusiasm for whatever they were talking about, quickly enveloping the elder in a tight embrace. The great stallion laughed again, slapping the younger on the back firmly. The air grew even thicker, a surge of cold wiping through the room like a wave before the uncomfortable warmth returned. This time, the younger noticed, and he shared a worried look with Rarity.
The father noticed the look, and opened his mouth. But before he could speak, he was interrupted by the potent racket of glass shattering. Rarity winced as she felt the sound penetrate her as if her whole body was an ear. She turned to look, and screamed into the void as several shards pelted into her face. Exactly one second later, a silent, powerful billow of golden magic blasted into the room, throwing her from her perch as if she was nothing but a feather. She saw herself flying towards a roaring fireplace, but everything started to phase and shift just before she fell into it. Her vision stretched and whirled as if she was being pulled through one of Twilight’s teleportations, but the feeling was far more intense and the tunnel looked a deal less colorful.
She hit the floor softer than expected, landing on her side with a shout. She heard frantic shrieks and wails of panic and pain echo and fade out, replaced by the sound of hooves racing towards her. Her breaths were still rapid, but gradually began to calm as she opened her eyes. She was back in the derelict of her former home, and the former inn. The glowing moss and dark vines seeming closer than they were before. Above her stood the scarred mare, out of breath and holding a small chest in her hoof.
“Are you alright?” The mare worried, extending a hoof. Rarity quickly took it and slowly lifted herself to her hooves. She didn’t feel too dizzy, but she wasn’t going to take a chance.
“Yes, yes I’m fine,” she insisted, stepping over to sit back into the chair. “I just… saw something. I need a minute, that’s all.”
The mare tilted her head suspiciously, and opened the box in her hoof as she sat on the floor. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that minute, Rarity,” she said flatly, “I need answers.”
“You need answers?” Rarity scoffed, before stopping herself and taking a deep breath. “No no, we both need answers. I’ll tell you what I can, but that won’t be much I’m afraid.”
“I just need to ask one question,” the mare stated, pulling an ancient picture from the chest. She blew on the paper, sending dust in all directions while she stared at it intently. “Is this you?” She turned the picture towards Rarity, extending her hoof. Rarity fell silent once her eyes hit the photograph, and her polite smile fell even harder.
The image on the paper was that of an old mare.
Author's Note
And here it is! Another idea I've been meaning to get to for a while. I'm hoping you guys will like where I'm going with this as the story develops. 
As always, please leave a thumbs-up if you support this story, thumbs-down if you don't. Please tell me your thoughts, comments and criticisms down below, and I'll make note of all of it. Don't be shy, I appreciate any sort of feedback. 
Until Next Time, God Bless You!
~Amethyst Dawn
