"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

- Karl von Clausewitz

Canterlot, Central Equestria, September 18th, 2038. 1200 Hours.

The grand war room in Canterlot was a cacophony of hurried hoofsteps, shouts, and the rustling of countless scrolls. Ponies darted to and fro, carrying stacks of papers laden with battlefield reports and logistical updates. Pegasi messengers landed and took off in rapid succession, their wings a blur as they relayed urgent communications. Unicorn officers huddled around smaller tactical tables, arguing over maps and strategies, while Earth pony aides struggled to maintain order amid the chaos. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the air almost suffocating from the sheer magnitude of panic and urgency that hung over the room.

In the center of the chaos stood a large, circular table, adorned with a detailed tactical map of Equestria. Wooden figurines, each representing a Royal Guard legion, were scattered across it, marking troop positions and battle lines. Princess Luna sat at the table, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but her demeanor commanding. She had not slept in days, her midnight mane was sheveled, her furs slightly tarnished. Her hoof rested on the edge of the table as she leaned forward, her gaze fixed on the map.

Every few hours, a pegasus would bring fresh reports from the battlefield—each one more disheartening than the last. Luna’s horn glowed as she levitated one such scroll, breaking the wax seal with practiced ease. Her dark blue eyes scanned the text quickly, her expression hardening.

“Another defeat,” she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with frustration.

General Steelmane, a seasoned Earth pony stallion with a grizzled gray mane, approached the table with a fresh scroll clutched in his teeth. Dropping it in front of Luna, he gave a sharp salute. “Your Highness, urgent news from the Appaloosan Mountains.”

Luna opened the scroll and read silently. Her jaw tightened as she absorbed the grim details. “The 9th and 10th Legions… retreated with heavy casualties.”

Steelmane nodded solemnly. “Aye, Princess. The 10th Legion was nearly wiped out. Only scattered survivors remain.”

Luna inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “Order the 11th Legion to cover their retreat. Ensure they hold their position until reinforcements arrive.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Steelmane bowed and trotted off to relay the orders.

Moments later, another general, this time a unicorn mare named Bright Lance, approached. Her armor was scuffed, and her face bore the weary lines of sleepless nights. “Princess Luna, I bring word from Las Pegasus. The remnants of the 6th and 7th Legions have completed their retreat from Canter Creek.”

“And their condition?” Luna asked, though she dreaded the answer.

“Seventy percent casualties, Your Highness,” Bright Lance said quietly, her voice heavy with grief. “The survivors are barely combat-effective.”

Luna closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself a rare flicker of emotion before she pushed it aside. “Deploy the newly-formed 21st Legion to Las Pegasus. Have them secure the city, distribute aid, and fortify its defenses. They are to remain on the defensive until further notice.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”

Minutes later, a young officer entered, his armor gleaming but his face pale. He carried a scroll trembling in his magical grasp. “Princess Luna, news from the Amarezon Jungle. The 9th Legion has successfully retreated, but…”

“But what?” Luna demanded, her patience thinning.

The officer hesitated, his voice faltering. “The 10th and 11th Legions… have been destroyed. What remains of them has been absorbed into the 9th.”

Luna’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked her reaction. “Another two legions… gone,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She placed her hoof on the table, her gaze fixed on the map. “Establish a defensive line at Macintosh Mountain. Tell them to dig in and hold until reinforcements arrive.”

As the young officer left, Luna levitated two wooden figurines from the map—those representing the 10th and 11th Legions—and set them aside. The table was growing emptier by the hour. A half of Equestria's army was dead, and a quarter heavily wounded. Only a 25% of the original 350,000 soldiers were still fit for battle.

In less than a week, Equestria had suffered more casualties than during the entirety of the Crystal Empire War a millennium ago. The toll was unimaginable.

Luna rubbed her temples with a hoof, her mane swaying faintly as if weighed down by her despair. Reports of widespread panic in Manehattan, Fillydelphia and Baltimare only added to her burdens. Civilians feared the enemy would march on their cities any day now. Her sister had been forced to personally visit towns and cities, rallying the populace with speeches of hope and unity.

But Luna knew better. The war was turning into a nightmare.

In response to the crisis, Equestria transitioned into war economy. Resources were diverted to the military effort, and mass recruitment were launched across the nation. Young stallions and mares, barely of age, were conscripted to replace the fallen. Factories were repurposed to produce weapons and armor. But for every pony inspired by Celestia’s words of encouragement, there were whispers of doubt and fear.

Some compared the situation to the Eques-Griffonian War of 1,500 years ago—a long, bloody conflict where the not-yet-unified pony tribes wage a defensive war against the Griffon invaders who are trying to take over the continent and enslave ponykind, its nearly brought them to the brink of extinction. Others spoke in hushed tones about the new enemy, the “Hu-mano,” and their terrifying weapons.

The Royal Press silenced such dissent quickly. Official reports blamed recent defeats on the incompetence of local commanders, painting deserters like Prince Blueblood as scapegoats. But Luna was not so naive.

The truth was painfully clear: the hu-manos’ weapons were unlike anything Equestria had ever faced. Luna had seen them in the dreamrealm and heard Agent Sweetie Drops’ chilling testimony. These weapons could kill dozens in seconds without the aid of magic. And though the hu-manos did not pursue retreating ponies, their mercy was cold comfort.

To counter this, Luna issued an executive order for the creation of 30 new legions, totaling 600,000 ponies, perhaps their numerical and magical superiority could turn the tide. She also called for the formation of a special research team dedicated to studying hu-mano weaponry and figuring out its weaknesses. And who knows, maybe they can create their own superior version of this new weapon.

As Luna coordinated troop movements and pondered strategies, the truth loomed over her like a dark shadow. For all her efforts, for all her orders and plans, it was futile.

Everypony in that war room was already dead.

They just didn’t know it yet.

Crystal Empire, Frozen North, September 19th, 2038. 0700 Hours.

In the far northern reaches of the continent, nestled within an endless expanse of snow and ice, stood the Crystal City, the heart and capital of the Crystal Empire. The city, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun, was a marvel of pony ingenuity and artistry. Its buildings were carved entirely from crystalline structures, each one a masterpiece that refracted light into a dazzling spectrum of colors.

Towering spires of pure quartz pierced the sky, their intricate designs reminiscent of ancient artistry lost to time. Streets paved with shimmering cyan crystal stretched like rivers of light, connecting neighborhoods and marketplaces. The Crystal Highway, a monumental road network that wove through the city, sparkled as if the very ground was alive. Surrounding the city, a crystalline biome glimmered under the sun, its trees and plants appearing otherworldly, their translucent leaves reflecting the hues of the rainbow. This was a stark contrast to the lifeless tundra beyond the Empire’s protective magical barrier, a testament to the magic of the Crystal Heart.

The residents of the city were just as unique as their home. The Crystal Ponies, their bodies sparkling like the gems they worked with, were unlike any other tribe of ponykind. Their innate connection to crystals allowed them to mine, shape, and imbue their creations with magic, producing luxuries sought after by kingdoms far and wide. For centuries, their crystal crafts were symbols of wealth and status, traded across the world as priceless commodities.

Long before the rise of the tyrant King Sombra, the Crystal Empire stood as an independent nation. Equestria, with all its influence, had repeatedly tried to integrate the Crystal Empire into its fold, but the attempts were met with polite refusal by their Empress. The Crystal Ponies valued their independence, their traditions, and their unique culture too much to allow outside interference. This sense of pride and isolationism only deepened after Sombra’s reign, as the Empire vanished for a millennium, frozen in time.

Now, a year after its miraculous return, the Crystal Empire was slowly finding its place in the modern world. Yet, the scars of their absence remained, and their skepticism toward the outside world lingered. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or Cadance, had been tasked with leading the Empire into a new era, balancing its traditions with the demands of the modern age.

High above the city, in the tallest crystalline tower, Princess Cadance stood on the balcony, her gaze fixed on the bustling streets below. Her rose-pink coat shimmered faintly in the sunlight, her tricolored mane—streaks of magenta, violet, and gold—flowing gently in the morning breeze. Her violet eyes, usually warm and filled with compassion, were clouded with worry.

It had been a challenging year since Celestia appointed her to rule the Empire. The bureaucratic strain of modernizing a civilization lost for a millennium weighed heavily on her. Projects like constructing railways, introducing new farming techniques, advanced medicine, and rebuilding the Empire’s economy were monumental tasks. Every decision was a careful balance between progress and preserving the unique culture of the Crystal Ponies.

There was also a hidden mandate from Princess Celestia: to integrate/annexed the Crystal Empire into Equestria peacefully. Through trade agreements, cultural exchanges, and ideological imports like the Magic of Friendship, Equestria aimed to ensure the Empire’s reliance on its southern neighbor. While the initial influx of trade and Equestrian goods boosted the economy, it soon became clear that local industries were struggling to compete. The Crystal Ponies, still clinging to the ideals of an older era, viewed the changes with skepticism.

The situation had grown worse with the outbreak of war against a mysterious species—hu-manos. Their devastating defeats at the hands of these strange beings had left Equestria scrambling for resources. The demand for high-quality magic crystals, steel, and enchanted weapons had skyrocketed, and pressure was mounting on the Crystal Empire to supply these vital materials.

Cadance had resisted proposals to involve the Crystal Empire in the war, including one from Princess Luna suggesting the mobilization of Crystal Ponies. Their unique magic, capable of creating enchanted weapons and impenetrable armor, would undoubtedly bolster Equestria’s forces. Yet, Cadance feared the political fallout. The Crystal Ponies already viewed her with some suspicion, and her husband, Shining Armor, was seen as an outsider—a random Canterlot unicorn who got lucky to marry a one-of-a-kind mare.

Cadance sighed deeply, her hoof resting gently on her stomach. She was a month into her pregnancy, a secret known only to her and Shining Armor. The thought of raising a child in such uncertain times filled her with dread. She often fantasized about a simpler life—a quiet existence in her old village, away from politics and war.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Turning, she saw Quartz Glimmer, one of her most trusted advisors, entering the room.

"Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness," Quartz said with a respectful bow, his crystalline coat catching the light. "Prince Shining Armor has called for an emergency meeting in the Senate chamber. He requests your presence immediately."

Cadance frowned. "An emergency meeting? What is this about?"

Quartz hesitated. "I am not privy to the full details, Princess, but the Prince has summoned the generals of the Imperial Army as well. It appears to be a military matter."

Cadance’s heart sank. She had repeatedly warned Shining Armor against dragging the Empire into Equestria’s war, yet his loyalty to his homeland often clouded his judgment. She suspected this meeting would be another attempt to push the Empire toward military involvement.

"Very well," she said after a moment. "Inform the Senate I will attend shortly. Adjust my schedule for the day to accommodate this meeting."

Quartz bowed and left the room. Cadance returned to the balcony, her gaze sweeping over the peaceful city below. Despite the economic strain and political tension, the Crystal Empire remained a sanctuary of harmony. She vowed to protect it, even if it meant opposing her husband and Equestria itself.

Unbeknownst to Cadance, forces beyond her control were already at work. The war with humanity was escalating, and Equestria’s defeats had emboldened its enemies. The Crystal Empire’s resources and magic made it an invaluable asset in the conflict. No amount of political influence or resistance from Cadance could shield the Empire from the coming storm.

The flames of war were spreading, and the Crystal Empire’s days of existence were numbered.

New Siberia, Northern Pangaea, September 19th, 2038. 0800 Hours.

The grinding hum of the BTR-50’s engine was the only constant noise inside the cramped vehicle, a monotonous drone drowned occasionally by the whistling winds outside. Commander Posokhov Krasimir shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his breath visible in the frigid air despite the layered clothing he wore. Frost crept along the edges of the metal interior, forming delicate crystalline patterns that mirrored the hostile tundra outside. His gloved hands gripped the periscope tightly, trying to fight off the numbness setting into his fingers. He peered into the endless white expanse, his heart heavy with the weight of their grim mission.

The northern most region of Gaia's, where the Russian colony was located is a desolate, unforgiving land. It was a place where the sun was just a memory and temperatures plummeted to lethal lows. Yet here he was, leading his platoon in this wasteland under orders to scout for any signs of alien activity. The politicians back at the UN might have spoken grandly of Russia's commitment to Gaia, but on the ground, the reality was starkly different.

Russia's colonies on Gaia were a testament to perseverance in the face of adversity but also to the limits of ambition. Unlike the sprawling metropolises established by some nations, Russian settlements were small and scattered, barely clinging to survival in this alien environment. The largest colonies, Novosibirsk and New Samara, were home to around 100,000 people, modest cities by any standard. Beyond these hubs, countless smaller communities eked out an existence in isolation, their populations spread thin across a vast and inhospitable terrain.

The land was unyielding, a mix of frozen tundra, jagged mountain ranges, and icy rivers. Infrastructure was rudimentary at best; roads were often impassable, and power supplies were unreliable. The lack of centralized settlements made it nearly impossible to establish effective supply chains, let alone support significant military operations. Only a handful of small, independent units like Posokhov’s platoon could be deployed, tasked with protecting the scattered settlers from threats both known and unknown.

Despite these hardships, the colonies were vital to Russia's future. Back on Earth, the nation was grappling with a demographic crisis—low fertility rates and an aging population threatened its long-term survival. The young, able-bodied population on Gaia represented a last hope for the motherland, a fragile lifeline that could not be severed. The brutal alien attack on the Indian colony had sent shockwaves through the Russian leadership. Losing these colonists was simply not an option. Posokhov and his comrades had been dispatched with a singular mission: identify any potential threats before they reached the colonies.

As the BTR-50 trudged forward through the blizzard, the view through the periscope remained unchanged—an endless swirl of white. The vehicle’s treads crunched over the frozen ground, and the bitter cold seeped into every crevice of their armor. Posokhov adjusted the periscope’s zoom, scanning the horizon for anything unusual. For hours, there was nothing. Just snow and more snow.

Until suddenly, a faint light appeared in the distance.

At first, he thought it was a trick of the mind—a hallucination brought on by exhaustion and the unrelenting cold. But as the BTR crept closer, the light grew brighter. Posokhov adjusted the periscope’s focus, and his breath caught in his throat. Before him was something he could scarcely believe.

A massive, translucent shield of light cyan hue stretched across the horizon, shimmering like the surface of a frozen lake under the sun. It appeared to rise impossibly high into the sky, perhaps five to ten kilometers tall, and spanned an enormous radius—at least 40 to 50 kilometers. The shield pulsated gently, radiating an almost otherworldly energy that seemed to hold back the blizzard. Beyond its boundary, the sky was clear and blue, a sight Posokhov hadn’t seen in weeks. The sunlight within cast a warm glow over the land it protected, creating a stark contrast to the frigid wasteland outside.

As the vehicle edged closer, the scene within the shield came into focus. A sprawling city of crystal and marble stood in the heart of the dome, its towers glittering like gemstones under the sunlight. Roads made of sparkling crystal connected the various districts, and lush green fields surrounded the urban center, a verdant oasis in the middle of the frozen tundra. The city seemed alive with movement—tiny figures moved through its streets, their forms glinting like polished quartz.

“What... what is this?” one of the crew muttered, breaking the awed silence inside the BTR.

“It looks like a city,” Posokhov replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. “But not like any city I’ve ever seen.”

The radioman hurriedly tried to contact their base, his hands fumbling with the controls in his excitement. Static crackled over the radio as he transmitted their discovery. Posokhov continued to stare through the periscope, unable to tear his eyes away from the miraculous sight. The shield, the city, the sunlight—it was as if they had stumbled upon a alien civilization.

For weeks, the mood among the population had been grim. The freezing temperatures, the isolation, the fear of an alien attack—they had all taken their toll. But now, for the first time, there was a glimmer of hope. Whatever this city was, it represented something extraordinary. Perhaps it was a sanctuary, a refuge from the harshness of Gaia. Or perhaps it was something even greater—a beacon of salvation for a nation on the brink.

As the radioman reported their findings, Posokhov allowed himself a moment of cautious optimism. Maybe this is it, maybe this is the light at the end of the tunnel.

But even as he clung to that hope, a nagging doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. What if this city wasn’t a sanctuary but a new threat? What if the beings who built it were as hostile as the aliens that had attacked the Indian colony?

One thing was certain: this discovery would change everything. For Russia, for Gaia, and perhaps for humanity as a whole. The motherland is on its last legs, teetering on the edge of destruction, had found a glimmer of light in its darkest hour. Whether that light would guide them to salvation or doom, only time would tell.

Author's Note

Bad news, I'm sick again, this time I have low blood pressure and malnutrition because I don't eat enough vegetables.

Writing while experiencing low blood pressure is really painful in the head.