As the intrepid explorer ventured deeper into the heart of the dense, ancient forest, a surreal scene unfolded before her eyes. The once-thriving town, a testament to equine civilization's ingenuity, had long been abandoned to the relentless embrace of nature. Weathered stone structures, once bustling with life, now stood as eerie sentinels against the encroaching greenery. Moss-clad rooftops of rotting straw had collapsed inwards under the weight of decay, while gnarled tree roots snaked their way through cracked cobblestone streets, reclaiming the land inch by inch.
Pipp's hoofsteps echoed through the silence of the ghostly town, a gentle clop-clopping that was the only sound breaking the stillness of this forgotten realm. Nature's reclamation was a slow and patient process, as vines and creepers wove intricate tapestries over what was once bustling market squares and homes filled with laughter and merriment. Trees sprouted from the heart of crumbling stone walls, their branches reaching out to embrace the crumbling remnants of pony habitation. Amidst the melancholy, there was a profound sense of harmony in this convergence of history and ecology. This ancient village, slowly returning to a primordial state, served as a living testament to the passage of time, a humbling reminder of the transitory nature of all things.
When Pipp found herself in the shadow of a rickety, circular structure she guessed might once have been a town hall, she paused to take in a drink of water from her canteen. Reviewing her notes, she gave a small satisfied hum. She was where she guessed she ought to be. In her studies, she had traced her entire lineage back as far as records could be written. Her royal bloodline was an established truth of Equestrian culture, eventually reaching all the way back to the great alicorns of times gone by.
She had determined the lives, fates and resting places of every branch of the tree, except for one: her -and she double checked the wording several times- second cousin, seventeen times removed. Luckily for her, this particular member of her family had caused somewhat of a ruckus in their time. At least, enough of a ruckus for historians to take note. The events set in motion by this family member had indeed been the stuff of legend, enough for some of Pipp's more recent ancestors to try and quietly distance the bloodline from the perpetrator.
This was the damage that Pipp was seeking to undo. A united Equestria should embrace every aspect of its history, good or bad, and always strive to do better. She had dialled back her vlogging and singing career to dedicate more time to her research, and she had even taken an extended leave of absence from it to pursue this final task. Her only link to civilisation at the moment was the clunky satellite phone at the top of her saddlebag. Old and outdated, it was supposed to be practical. But it wouldn't even take selfies. And it made her bag so heavy, she couldn't even fly. So for this final stage of her expedition, she was forced to walk.
She wiped dregs of water from her mouth as she rose to her hooves to resume her march. Her ears flicked as a vibrant chorus of bird song erupted from the branches above her. It danced through the emerald canopy, the leaves rustling their own accompanying tune as they danced around and filtered short bursts of sunlight down to the streets. There was a serene beauty to her surroundings. Pipp wondered how long it had been since anypony had last set hoof in the remnants of this town.
Onwards she walked, passing more and more hollow skeletons that had previously been buildings, each in its own unique state of disrepair. Though most of them looked alike, one or two stood out. A crumbling roof, strewn out across the street after the base structure appeared to have completely given way, looked to have been carved in a manner resembling cake frosting. Another building had seemed to have once been supported by... were those carousel horses? Pipp smiled to herself, imagining she'd have enjoyed living in a town like this. One of whimsy, and of vibrant townsfolk. She could probably have vlogged some amazing content here.
Then, as the buildings and trees receded, she found exactly what she'd been searching for. Before her stood a statue. The statue. An obelisk of stone rising high above her, weather worn but no less detailed than the day it had been forged. It bore the scars of the centuries gone by, the precise shapes marred by cracks and crevices. A resilient quilt of moss, like a tender caress of nature, clung tenaciously to the weathered surface. Verdant tendrils bringing a sense of life to defy the inevitable decay of the stone, and delicately breathing vitality back upon the crumbling statue.
History books claimed it was hoof-made, a mere depiction of the final fates befalling the three wrongdoers who had attempted to seed disharmony through the land, but Pipp knew better. This was no headstone, it was a coffin. A stone shroud encasing three enemies of ponykind, freezing them all in time as their shocked expressions portrayed the horror each had experienced as their final fate befell them. A bug-like creature known as a Changeling. A Centaur with a nose ring and two large horns. And then there was the pegasus.
She was only a filly, far too young to be rationally associated with the crimes that had been committed. But if the accounts were true, this young face painted with abject terror had been a mastermind of destruction in her own right. Pipp gulped, as the list of atrocities committed by the young filly clung relentlessly to the deep recesses of her mind. How could she share blood with somepony in league with literal monsters? But at least she'd succeeded in her task. She had tracked down the resting place of her last missing relative.
"Cozy Glow," Pipp whispered to herself.
