Far beyond the desert, one can see the littered bodies of royal knights and other creatures scattered throughout. It seems a war has brewed here but has happened long ago, as skeletons are all that remained from them.

A native of the desert can be seen looting through the desert, giving no rest for the dead as it rummages through their belongings. “ Aaa… a royal knight, are we? Pray tell you are doing here in the middle of the desert, with your armor and all.” The wandering creature covered in desert clothes, resembling bandages, spoke.

It stands on all fours yet uses its front legs not only for movement but for gestures as well.

It began to tap the armor of the knight to see if it was still alive, even though its body was half buried in the desert and all.

“... dead perhaps? It would be a waste if I left your armor here to rust. The dead need nothing, right? As for me," the wonderer began to grab and yank the armor off the desert to collect it off the royal knight’s corpse.

A muffled thud would be heard buried somewhere beneath the sand. This would grab the wanderer’s interest.

“ …perhaps? .... We have a live one? ” He carefully surveyed the surroundings to pinpoint the location of the sound. Then he began digging.

“Oh, great joy! Something... something alive! Oh, what great fortune! I hope it’s not damaged—!? ”The wanderer was stopped in his tracks as something hot pierced through his stomach. There dripped his blood into the sands; soon the wanderer was no more but a limp flesh skewered by a sword.

The owner of the sword would slowly come out beneath the sands and begin to push the wanderer aside. It was a royal knight.
It’s existence leaves questions, as it is not possible.

And yet it exists.

The knight began to crush the skull of the wanderer, and an essence of white mist would leak out from its body and into his, absorbing it and gaining strength.

The body of the wanderer would slowly vanish into this white essence and be fully absorbed by the royal knight, leaving no trace of its victim.

The Royal Knight stood out from the sand with its four hooves and a sword on its mouth.

It glared through the distance, lost and wondering. What awaits his sight is nothing but the glaring sun and a vast desert littered with corpses.

The knight sheaths his sword and begins to check himself, unable to understand what has become of him. He has become a deviant of his kind—a shadow pony of some sort, although hornless and wingless—a shadow pony nonetheless.

His hooves would flare up a shadowy sort of dark flame, and his breath is hot to the touch. In actuality, his whole body felt like it was burning.

He thought at first that because he was in a desert, he felt the unbearable heat, but the feeling was different. The sensation was painful to the point that he was burning, but the knight was already used to torture and had already experienced something far worse than being burned alive.

The pony began to run towards what he thought was north, so he scouted the area and tried to find a higher vantage point. But all he sees are dunes of sand, so he climbed one that looked the tallest. There, he found, at the very far distance, a mountain—his next destination.

He began to gallop towards it while leaving burnt foot marks on the sand. As he exerted himself, he felt the fire inside him burn even more violently, causing him to exhale black, purplish fire.

He began to sweat flames as it caught the wind he was running against. His strength and speed felt limitless, but so too did the pain. This was nothing new to him. He was able to push through.

But it seems his flame attracted something beneath the ground. It was his fellow knights.

He paused and observed his brothers and sisters rise from the sands, and they began feeling the burning sensation that he had felt too.

They shared the same pain, but not all are equal. Some would yell in agony and crawl. Some would strip their own armor and flesh just to get rid of the flame that’s eating inside them.

None of them could bear the pain.

Why? He thought.

He looked at his blade.
He unsheathed it and went near someone who was dying.
“Brother, let me end thy suffering.”

He quickly sliced its head off, and it began to release the same white essence as the wanderer he killed.

He absorbed it once more, and the pain seems to have diminished.

“Lift your swords. If not, then let your fellow lift it for you instead.”
He then salutes the fellow knight he just slayed.

The others, who are still able to bear and witnessed what happened, were able to pick up what needed to be done.

A mass killing was performed between brothers and sisters.

Some would pay their respects, and some would instantly go through each other’s throats. But sooner or later, it would eventually end.

Silence.

Few but remained.

“Have you quenched them burning desires?” The first who rose asked the many.

The rest would look at him and give their respects.

“Who shall lead? ”He followed up with another question.

One by one, the knights began to list their ranks, but it seems the first one still outranked them all.

“Then follow me. We head to the princess's aid. We were not pulled out of our slumber with no reason, especially our conscious intact.” The royal knights began to charge towards the unfamiliar lands that they once called home.
Equestria.

Now, black flames scorch the desert that leads north, where the only guide the royal knights have is a lone mountain in an endless sea of desert.

This would attract the warlord of the south.
Gallus, the Boastful Pillager.

News of slaughter in his desert was unheard of, especially if it wasn't him doing it.

"Generals, it seems someone is starting the party without me."
Gallus spoke as he played with his prey, who was stuck between his spear.
Lifeless...

"We move north."

Author's Note

I hope this one ain't too dark... Or perhaps i should add more dark lore to it?