buryallthefalseravens

by Equimorto

First published

There was a time when the land was bountiful, a spectacle for all to see. And in that time worms crawled out of the ground, and looked at the sky, wishing to fly. And in that time came other worms, and they declared themselves as those prophesied about, those who would lead their race to the skies. But they were still worms, and so they remained stuck on the ground, along with all those who followed them. Slowly, they consumed the world they inhabited, leaving it as nothing more than a wasteland.

Trapped in a dying world, prisoners of a downfall outside of their control, victims of fate, few ponies chose not to let themselves be swept away. Of those few, even fewer sought the source of the decay, to understand the cause of the corruption laying waste to the land. Of the small number of them that lived long enough, some, enlightened by the truth, chose to remain further, ready to prepare the world for what would come next.

The system is failing, collapsing on itself. Sooner or later, the lies will be exposed. Sooner or later, the true children of the prophecy will arise and all will see them. And there will be a great need for graves when the day comes.