Echoes of a forgotten freedomby LeonedavisChaptersAt the edge of the voidInto the WindBreath of the South WindWhispers of the DesertAt the edge of the voidI have always presented myself as a proud royal guard, and from a young age, I became passionate about the art of war. So why, now that this goal has been achieved, do I feel so empty? Why, beneath my beautiful armor, do I feel like I’m suffocating? Why do I avoid my own reflection in the mirror? Why, when on leave, do I lie on my camp bed, drained of energy and will? Why do I have to force myself to eat? I hate myself without understanding why. No one but me can provide an answer, and yet, this discomfort gnaws at me to the core. At night, I dream of being someone else, but by the next day, I’ve forgotten who I wanted to be. The rare times my gaze meets the mirror, I look at myself with contempt, as if I were nothing but trash. What do I truly want? I seek neither glory, nor money, nor recognition. The affection of others means little to me, and love... I gave up on the idea a long time ago. The only mare I ever loved eventually bored me. I close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift, but each time, I hit a wall of sadness, weariness, and an overwhelming sense of insignificance. Perhaps I have unknowingly sunk into a state of total detachment from this world. Even the princess, who once amazed me the first time I saw her, no longer holds that same magical glow. What once seemed beautiful to me has become a meaningless vision. My memories take me back to my childhood, to foal school in Canterlot. The last in my class, I couldn’t stay still, preferring to explore the many streets and dark alleys of the capital, flying out the window at night. Every new discovery was more interesting than what the school tried to teach me, which caused my parents and teachers to despair, wondering what they were going to do with me. However, it is true that seeing the royal guards in their shining armor, their serious and impassive gaze, as if they were above it all—anger, sadness, fear... above me, a simple foal with no future—left its mark. As for Princess Celestia, she sat upon her throne, her multicolored mane flowing despite the lack of wind, as if it had a will of its own. Her vibrant colors spread in contrast to the pure whiteness of her coat and the simplicity of her jewelry, compared to the unnecessarily complex attire of the decadent nobility of this city. Yet, she embodied the face of Equestria, the very symbol of our nation, a figure who had stood for over a thousand years and, as my instructor had said when I was a young adult and took the step to join the guard, she would continue to reign forever. But it had been years since I could no longer believe in it. She was too pure, too kind, too indulgent... and, after the changeling attack, too weak. My memories swirled in my mind as I opened my flask filled with cider, taking a long sip while lying on my bed. The sparkling taste eased my mind a little, but it didn’t chase away the deep distress that haunted me—a distress of which I was sadly aware. Alcohol, refuge of the weak. And me, at that moment, I was no better. A bitter smile brushed my lips. What irony that I could be so disappointed in myself that my own misery almost became a form of entertainment... Another proof that I had become the resigned spectator of my downfall. The alcohol gradually numbed my senses, urging me to close my eyes as my thoughts continued to swirl. My eyes slowly welled up with tears, while images of my parents, proud of me, as well as the last time I remembered being happy, passed before my eyes... The day I joined the royal guard, I realized that, lacking anything better, I had chosen the path that would make my parents proud, but without making myself happy. I got out of bed and left the dormitory to head to the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall. I exhaled loudly, letting my tears flow. I had no reason to be sad, but once again, they flowed on their own. That was why I wasn’t happy: I had unconsciously chosen to make others happy, without thinking of myself. I channeled, in an intense mental effort, my darkest memories: the changeling attack. I replayed the scene, my hooves trembling uncontrollably. The chain of command was overwhelmed, becoming unreadable, while our princess lay on the ground and the enemies shattered Shining Armor’s shield. Furthermore, I wasn’t on duty at that moment, but my trembling hooves had grabbed the first heavy weapon within reach, while orders and the sounds of battle echoed throughout the palace. It was neither honor nor duty that had driven me to arm myself, but fear and my desperate desire to escape this place. I remember my intention clearly: to reach the nearest balcony, jump into the void, and spread my wings to flee from the assault. However, on my way, despite myself, I managed to take a few invaders out of action that I couldn’t avoid around the corners of the hallways. My screams, amplified and distorted by the echoes, turned my terrified call for Celestia’s grace into a war cry in the ears of others. Some of my colleagues, recognizing my voice, now took me for an unyielding hero of the guard, when in reality, I was simply trying to save my hide from this walking Tartarus. I still remembered the heavy and desperate blows I struck with that improvised club, the panic rising in me when the object broke, forcing me to strike with my own hooves against their black, sharp shells. The fear of these creatures spitting and buzzing slowly transformed into a pure surge of adrenaline, pushing my body to its limits, pulling me further away from reality as my senses sharpened. A metallic taste flooded my mouth, my eyes caught every detail... Was it at that moment that I truly felt alive? The realization hit me suddenly, and at the same time, it brought a strange sense of relief: I was only alive when I was on the edge of death. My tears immediately stopped flowing, as if this realization had the power to stop them. I replayed the sequence of events in my mind, and yes, now I remembered it clearly. My screams of fear had fallen silent, my heart was beating so fast it threatened to break my ribs, and a smile had appeared on my face as my gaze fixed solely on the enemies, my strength seeming to multiply in their presence. Yet, I also remembered being overwhelmed by their numbers, covered in their secretion, shouting a challenge before my eyes closed, letting me sink. I hadn’t opened them again until the battle was over, lying in the infirmary, covered in wounds silently marking a fierce fight. Since my childhood, I had never dreamed of becoming a mere royal guard, a simple Pegasus serving an obsolete and powerless army. No, I wanted to live free, live for myself, far from this golden cage. I came out of my coward's hiding place and returned to my camp bed to gather my few civilian belongings and the little bits of change I had saved. I didn’t even bother to officially resign; let them consider me a deserter, it didn’t matter. What were they going to do, after all? Be shocked? Deliver long speeches to their pawns? A small, amused laugh escaped me at that thought. I had wasted far too much time in this farce they called the Royal Guard. It was probably out of pride that I had wanted to please Princess Celestia. As for Princess Luna and her Night Guard... I had never been able to stand them, always in the shadows, almost hiding, even when they were supposed to be patrolling the castle. I left the palace through the grand gates, my saddlebags perfectly adjusted, and took a deep breath: this was the beginning of a new life. Into the WindRebirth, novelty, freedom: these words resonated within me as the palace faded into the distance. It was time for me to live by my own rules. I existed, I burned with desire, and my wings had never felt so light. I puffed out my chest proudly, my muscles taut, like those of my former comrades on parade. My eyes certainly gleamed with a newfound determination. My gaze, filled with unabashed contempt, lingered on those noble mares and stallions, always ready to crush those who hadn’t had the “privilege” of being born into the right family. It was unbearable for them that a proud Pegasus dared to glare at them like the trash they truly were, perched atop their false pedestals! Their apparent fragility almost made me smile: they looked like they needed a protective glass case, with a large label reading ‘Fragile.’ To my great delight, the astonishment painted on their faces, their almost instinctive recoil as I passed, had become a strangely addictive source of satisfaction. I must have been an intimidating sight in their eyes, though it never took much to terrify a noble. My hooves struck the cobblestones with purpose. I didn’t yet know where I was heading, but this city made me sick. Leaving it felt far more tempting than staying. After all, I was about to become a deserter, and all of Equestria lay open before me, far from my hometown. The big questions remained: should I take to the skies or board the train to leave? What precautions should I take? Most importantly, what equipment would I need for this new life? What would my first objective be? These questions were unfamiliar to me, but their answers would be guided by necessity and the training I had received. Deep down, one truth remained: a stallion doesn’t get far without bits, and the little I carried wouldn’t guarantee more than a few nights at an inn and some simple meals. Wandering alone wouldn’t bring much profit, and turning to banditry would attract unwanted attention far too quickly... but perhaps a blend of the two might just work. A smile spread across my muzzle as my steps carried me toward the exit of this capital, now particularly repugnant in my eyes. Despite its marble monuments and imposing structures, it seemed to me nothing more than a glorified pile of stones, to which I owed nothing anymore. My hooves led me out of the city, and I found myself taking a deep breath, as if the air was suddenly fresher, less stifling. The ground, though still paved, grew less well-maintained, and I felt my wings twitch slightly as I instinctively spread them to their full span, closing my eyes. My entire body stretched, as if awakening from a long, deep slumber. I even noticed faint cracks along my back and wings, and I felt as though I had instantly regained the physical form and abilities I’d had at the end of my training. I reopened my eyes, feeling the sun warm my coat without the interruption of buildings muting its heat. Gathering all the strength in my legs, I launched myself into the air, my wings beating powerfully at the exact moment a breeze picked up. Was this it—the sensation of freedom? Was this what the colt I once was had been whispering to me in my dreams? "Yes," I instinctively breathed, a childlike smile gracing my lips. At last, I felt in control of my own body again, and my meticulously trimmed mane fluttered softly in the blend of my speed and the gentle wind. I flew as if I had just rediscovered my wings for the first time, soaring through the clouds, edging closer to that boundary every Pegasus must respect, where the air becomes so thin that breathing itself becomes impossible. Then, I let myself fall, my limbs fully spread, eyes closed against the sky. The adrenaline from this freefall allowed me to hear the pounding of my own heart, thumping with exhilaration. I spun around to regain a more stable flight, feeling my muscles tingle slightly from the effort. But this pain was a good one—the kind that forges a stronger stallion. Perched on a branch, I watched the sun sink toward the horizon. The red-orange light bewitched me, even though I knew it was being controlled by some being. How long had it been since I took the time to enjoy such a simple spectacle? The answer came instinctively, without thought: "Too long," slipped from my closed lips. I smiled to myself, as if savoring this moment of tranquility. Gradually, night spread its veil over the world, and the temperature dropped gently. I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I could no longer make out the castle of Canterlot; from the position of the setting sun, I must have flown westward. Cloudsdale shouldn’t be too far, but the idea of swapping a pile of stone for a mass of clouds didn’t exactly excite me. The night promised to be cold, but I had been trained for such situations. I broke a few branches to build myself a makeshift shelter; it was soothing to hear the sounds of nature, free from the officers’ yelling or the snores and other noises of my colleagues. My eyes slowly began to close… I woke with the first light of dawn, my stomach growling slightly. Despite that, I felt completely rested. I swept away the morning dew that had settled on my makeshift blanket, the drops gently crushing beneath my movements. The fresh air of the dawn seemed to breathe peace, and I took a moment to brush my feathers and clean them roughly before stretching fully. The dreams that had passed through my mind had dissipated upon waking, but for once, they left no unpleasant feeling. My mind seemed calm, at ease… a welcome change. Unfortunately, one thing couldn’t wait: returning to a civilized place. Making survival gear myself and hunting for food would take far too long. And I wouldn't say no to some cider. I spread my wings and soared into the sky. My deductions were correct: in the distance, I could see Cloudsdale, that floating city, suspended in the air like a pale imitation of grandeur. A heap of woven clouds, fragile structures pretending to be a sanctuary for pegasi. I supposed that the rainbows bursting from it came straight from the cloud factory’s waste, no doubt. But well, my desire for cider and supplies easily outweighed the nausea that washed over me at the sight of the city. Even though, as I got closer, the composition of the clouds seemed artificial. The shapes were carefully arranged, trying to mimic nature, but too clean, too cut, to resemble something alive. It was obvious that the pegasi who had sculpted it had become far too detached from nature to even notice. My hooves eventually touched the clouds that formed the floor of this future ruin. The sensation was strangely unpleasant: too soft, too smooth, and above all, too uniform, as if every patch of cloud had been evenly flattened to create this vile, flat, featureless surface. I didn’t have to take more than five steps before I took to the air again, propelling myself upwards to hover over the streets, searching for a store and, more importantly, a bar. Finding the store I was looking for took me about an hour. These places were populated by creatures with no adventurer’s blood, having forgotten the time when we were Equestria’s warrior race. I tried not to think too much about it as I dropped down in front of this blue building, where the sign with white letters proudly displayed the name "Nuagathlon." I quickly entered, scanning the aisles while muttering at the overpriced goods. I grabbed some lightweight camping gear, easily portable, along with new saddlebags, knowing that would suffice for the journey ahead. The cashier, a pale pegasus mare with light gray fur and a mane carefully trimmed in shades of blue and white, wore a distracted expression, likely more concerned with the positioning of her wings than with the customer standing before her. I had to give her credit for one thing: she was beautiful in that appearance, even though the faint scent of perfume and the subtle gleam of her mane brought me back to reality, just like this place did. She was fake in her own way. I placed my items on the counter heavily, to interrupt her thoughts with the noise, and I looked her in the eyes without bothering to smile. I was searching for a hint of emotion or pride in the face of my rough manner, almost daring her to show me something. She flinched slightly in surprise, hardly meeting my gaze before quickly looking away, opting instead to cowardly stare at her hooves. "Good day, sir," she said, her voice soft and slightly trembling as she began counting the items. That vision of submission both saddened and reassured me in the thought that my own kind had lost what had kept it standing for so long: its warrior spirit. "At least lift your head," I growled. I saw her muzzle rise slightly, but her eyes remained fixed on the items. She had clearly finished counting. "I apologize, sir," she said, a brief silence following. "That’ll be 50 bits, please, sir." The temptation to grab the gear and leave without paying was strong. After all, who was going to stop me? I pushed the thought away, reluctantly. I was going to have enough problems soon enough. I placed the Bits on the counter and left the store before she even finished counting—after all, the total was correct. Once outside, I adjusted my new gear precisely, carefully balancing the weight to avoid being thrown off-balance in flight. The burden was comforting, though it lacked a weapon, and I knew in this pacified city, I wouldn't find anything to serve that function—at least not as effectively. The royal guards had only one blacksmith dedicated to crafting weapons and armor, making the acquisition of arms, though legal, complicated—perhaps even impossible. That was why the country had lasted this long... I turned this thought over in my mind as I flew, adjusting to the new weight on my shoulders. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of my hunger. Rather than looking at the many restaurant signs, I took the time to inhale the air lightly, trying to pick up on an enticing scent. As I continued to fly, my keen nose caught a whiff of something mouthwatering from a small stand at the edge of an alley. In contrast to the flashy neon signs of the neighboring restaurants, this one was modest—almost discreet. A simple faded canvas canopy, from which wafted the delightful aroma of fresh, sweet fruits. Without giving it another thought, I descended and landed right in front of the stand. The person behind the stand was an elderly mare, her brown coat speckled with a few gray hairs at her temples. Her wings appeared strong, a clear sign of her vitality. The wrinkles on her face marked the passage of years, yet she wore a genuine, calm smile, almost wise, as if she had seen the entire city change without ever being disturbed by it. Her piercing blue eyes scanned each passerby, and her ears were attuned to the slightest sound. It was a refreshing sight. After what little I had seen of the city, I knew that this mare still carried within her the pride and strength of the pegasi, despite her advanced age. She smiled at me without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world to offer, and with a simple nod of her head, invited me to help myself. "What can I offer you, young Pegasus?" she asked, her voice gentle yet firm, carrying a quiet authority. I took a moment to observe the stands, the colorful fruits spread out before me. The apples, pears, and peaches looked freshly picked, their skin gleaming under the soft light. Yet, one thing caught my attention more than the rest: a dish slowly simmering on a small stove, hidden under a curtain of steam. "What's that?" I asked, gesturing respectfully with my head toward the dish. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she looked me up and down. "A simple vegetable stew, prepared by me, and I think it could do you some good." I smiled faintly. She seemed to know more than she was letting on. "I'll take your advice, something many ponies in this city should do." The mare smiled gently at my remark, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. She raised a hoof and pointed to the steaming dish with a subtle motion, inviting my gaze to settle on it. "It’s never too late to learn, young Pegasus," she said, her voice soft yet full of wisdom. "The city may chase a thousand things, but the real things... they stay here, in simplicity." Indeed, my nostrils appreciated the smell, and I found myself salivating, a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time. The sweet scent of the vegetables simmering in the stew seemed to cling to the air, reminding me of simple, comforting meals from long ago. The warmth of the steam, the light humidity escaping from the dish, gave me a sense of warmth and comfort I hadn’t felt in... I cut off my train of thought, knowing that the old mare, whose eyes pierced right through me, could have seen my distress. "I'll take a portion," I said. The old mare turned slowly, as if savoring every movement, and took a wooden spoon to serve the steaming stew. The vegetables floated in a thick broth, golden orange, and the aroma filled my nostrils with a gentle yet powerful sweetness. She handed me the dish in a small clay bowl, her eyes shining with a kindness that, this time, touched me more than I had expected. She was not a fake, but a mare who loved what she did, with the wisdom that came from age. A real mare. I took the bowl with gratitude and gave her the bits, which she didn't even bother to count, smiling gently at me. "Enjoy your meal." I sat on the bench in front of the stall, my hooves trembling slightly. The fragrance of the stew mixed with the cool air of the city, and for a moment, I let myself be carried away, forgetting everything else. Expect the need for a drink after that. Breath of the South WindThe bowl of stew that the old mare had served me was a true delight. The steam rising from it enveloped my senses with an enchanting, rich, and warm fragrance, while the aroma teased my nostrils with a comforting sweetness. Each bite tested my tongue, so used to the bland and monotonous meals from the mess hall. This stew even surpassed the pretentious "luxury" restaurants in the capital, where the food seemed to have lost all soul, reduced to a mere display of appearances. I took my time, savoring each moment, without haste. The world could stop; nothing mattered as long as this dish warmed me from within. My gaze drifted for a moment to the street, watching the passing crowd. It wasn’t a captivating spectacle, nor a defining moment, yet my attention lingered on the younger ones, the foals whose eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, the glow of an untouched dream. Their energy seemed almost palpable, like a breath of fresh air cutting through a stuffy room. Their wings quivered, eager, as though waiting for the impulse of the wind to unfurl. The contrast with their parents was striking. The adults, weighed down by the burden of social conventions, struggled to suppress their freedom, keeping them within the narrow boundaries of a supposedly "civilized" society. In a world where agitation and effervescent dreams were seen as disturbances to be suppressed, these young pegasi were a breath of fresh air, a reminder that this sanitized existence was not natural. It had been imposed upon us, rooted in our society so that those without ambition could thrive, taking refuge from the change and surprises the world offers. But how long could this last? I stood up, my thoughts interrupted by the unpleasant sensation of the artificial texture beneath my hooves, which caused me to let out a soft grunt. I carefully placed the bowl back on the stand with an almost ritualistic reverence, then gave the old mare a slight nod, while feeling the weight of my thoughts settle back into place, heavy with every passing moment. I really needed that drink... Back in the sky, I was once again drifting through this impersonal assembly of clouds, searching for a bar that might look decent. Everything seemed strangely artificial, as if every element had been designed without soul. The signs, though colorful, reflected neither spirit nor personality, and the names they bore, when legible, were just pale wordplays, lacking flavor. Finally, I resigned myself to land in front of one of these indistinct bars, all equally devoid of character. I entered noisily, even though the place was open at this hour, as the locals were either working or at least pretending to. I barely took a moment to observe the décor, expecting nothing remarkable, yet I could not escape disappointment. The furniture was mundane, a series of raw wooden chairs and tables. The walls were decorated with frames of random music groups and banal posters, seemingly chosen out of obligation rather than taste. There was no warmth here, no story hidden behind each object, no trace of passion in the arrangement of the place. It was as if the place had been created to be forgotten, a mere stop between two insignificant destinations. The bar, a long gleaming wooden counter, seemed to have never known the shadow of a customer, as if the memory of those who had come had erased itself as soon as they left. The bartender looked up at me, likely due to my noisy entrance. His movements were mechanical. He was a dull dark gray pegasus, with a tired mane hanging like an old curtain. His wings stayed still, folded against his back, as if he had forgotten that they were meant to fly. The only thing preventing me from judging him more harshly was the indifference that his existence stirred in me. I approached the bar and placed my hooves on it without ceremony, without emotion. “What can I get you?” His voice, without conviction, escaped as he gazed at me absently, wiping an already clean glass. “Phoenix Heart.” I stopped him with a sharp gesture of my hoof as he reached for a shot glass. “The bottle.” The bartender blinked, seeming barely to understand. His lost gaze rested on me for a moment before slowly moving to the bottle. He barely shrugged, as if he had no idea what I truly meant. But he obeyed, without asking questions, and retrieved the bottle with the symbol: two fiery phoenixes forming a heart. I smiled as he placed the bottle in front of me, and I flicked off its cap with a swift motion of my wings. A warm, spicy, almost mystical scent escaped, sharply contrasting with the cold atmosphere of this place. A sigh escaped me, not of relief, but of frustration. It wasn’t just the bar that lacked life, it was the entire city. With the bottle in my wings, I finally brought it to my thirsty lips. “Are you sure?” The bartender asked uncertainly, as if trying to redeem a moment of life in this dull world. I didn’t bother answering him, and took a long sip of the burning liquid. My tongue was on fire, and I could feel the heat of the different spices running down my throat, but in a delicious way, a strong liquor that offered much. My smile widened as I placed the bottle back on the bar. The glow of the orange liquid, caught by the dimming light of the place, seemed almost alive, like a flickering flame in the darkness. “You’re empty,” I finally said, breaking the silence with a voice tinged with contempt. The bartender seemed startled, as if my remark had suddenly pulled him from his stupor. “Pardon?” he replied, his folded wings twitching slightly without ever spreading. “Two bottles to go,” I said bluntly, my eyes fixed on his, searching in vain for a sign of life. “Sorry, but we don’t...” I slammed my right hoof down onto the counter, making it crack under the impact. A small spark appeared, marking the pristine furniture with a crack. I stared at him intensely, my gaze leaving no room for discussion. The bartender, completely thrown off, slowly nodded. “I’ll... I’ll get that for you.” His gaze fled from mine before he trotted quickly to the back of the bar. I took another sip, waiting, a smile slowly spreading across my lips. At least, I had left a memory in this soulless place. I launched myself out of that dull city, abandoning its bleak, lifeless atmosphere without regret. I wasn’t trying to understand where this departure would lead me; my wings finally spread, free, choosing their own path. Gradually, the artificial shapes of the clouds, traced by the shadow of the buildings, gave way to their true wild beauty, a sky where each cloud seemed to float unhindered, carried by the pure breeze, unbroken by the shadow of the city’s frozen walls. My thoughts, like a gentle wind, drifted southward, toward the mysterious lands beyond the Macintosh Hills. A region almost forgotten, whose whispers and legends barely circulated in Equestria. The idea of this untamed land, still scarcely explored, stirred in me an almost uncontrollable fervor. My heart raced at the thought of hidden wonders, buried secrets, and even the dangers that lay in wait, lurking in the shadows. These dangers didn’t scare me; on the contrary, they seemed to give meaning to every beat of my heart and lend new strength to my wings. Isn’t that the life promised to the bold? Whispers of the DesertI quickly set up my tent as the sun began its slow descent over the San Palimo Desert. From the rocky peak where I had settled, I savored every moment of this spectacle. The sky, in constant change, was tinged with burning orange and deep purple, while darkness inexorably stretched over the dunes. This desert must be one of the few places in Equestria where the transition from day to night was so tangible. As the sun declined, a dark line advanced over the sand, gradually swallowing up the still-burning dunes. This phenomenon seemed independent, free, yet it was still linked to the whims of the unicorns or alicorns. I found myself dreaming of a world where light and darkness danced like this, in perfect autonomy, without the slightest magical intervention. A world where every being would be left to its own devices, challenging the elements to tame them. A world where rain would fall on its own, without any pegasus having to guide it. This thought, though fleeting, awakened in me a strange admiration for the earth ponies. They, deprived of magic or wings, still managed to make themselves indispensable. Their survival didn’t rely solely on brute strength, but on their ingenuity and incredible ability to adapt. They had learned to shape their environment without bending it to their will, unlike us pegasi or, to a lesser extent, the unicorns. This desert, vast and untamable, could only inspire deep respect in me for those beings who faced the world with nothing but their hooves, claws, or teeth as weapons. Dragons, griffons, and many other races, for whom magic and cloud manipulation were nothing more than oddities. By this simple fact, they were superior to us, for they had never needed to depend on artifices to tame their environment. And I have no doubt that they would outlive us, should we ever disappear from the face of this world, whether under an eternal day or in an endless night. These thoughts stirred contradictory feelings within me. A certain pride, first: that of rising above the narrow view of my species, of glimpsing the world in its vastness and diversity. But also an insidious realization: the insignificance of Equestria, and of the different pony races, in the face of the vastness of this world. My gaze wandered to the horizon, where the sun was setting over the ocean. A green gleam, almost unreal, briefly crossed the line where the waters met the sky, pulling a smile from me. Despite all her power, even Celestia couldn’t have produced such a phenomenon. This natural mystery, whether a mirage or a reality, had something deeply comforting about it. A proof that the world could stand on its own. I felt happy to have witnessed this spectacle, fulfilled in a way I had never known. The first stars timidly appeared in the sky, lighting up one by one like silent promises. I watched them, motionless, in a place where no pegasus moved or shaped the clouds, where no horn radiated its light into the night, and where no buildings had been constructed. The wind began to rise, softly whistling against the rocky peak, slipping through my mane and tail. Too short, alas, to fully enjoy the sensation, but enough for the cold to gently bite through my fur. This bite, far from being unpleasant, had something invigorating about it, like a reminder that I was here, in the present moment, connected to this raw landscape. Since I had left the palace, nature had ceased to be a constraint or nuisance for me. I still didn’t know how to define it, nor what role it should play in my life, but I knew one thing: here, far from the walls and rules of Equestria, it asked nothing of me. It simply existed. I took a deep breath of the night air before retreating into my tent to sleep for the night. The gentle warmth and the light filtering through the canvas of my tent slowly woke me. I stretched slowly, listening to my joints crack with the movement before poking my head out of the tent. The scent of the warm sand filled my senses, a soft fragrance that was already familiar. I calmly folded my belongings, unhurried, savoring this moment of tranquility. Nothing was urgent, and in fact, everything seemed to encourage me to linger, to extend the moment. Yet, other horizons awaited me. Nothing would hold me here, not even this place, soothing as it was. I would return, perhaps, one day. But today, a particular road was calling me. I gently launched myself from the heights, allowing my wings to slow my descent until I reached the ground. My hooves met the still-cool sand, which would soon warm under the kiss of the sun. I began to walk leisurely, each step infusing a little more warmth into my coat. I made my way through the undulating dunes and rock formations near the mountain peaks. The only sign of Equestrian presence in these remote lands was the trace my hooves left in the sand, ephemeral marks destined to disappear. The winds, when they rose, would erase these footprints, restoring nature’s dominion and wiping away any trace of my passage. Little by little, the landscape transformed. Dry bushes now dotted the scene, piercing the aridity like shards of tenacious life. The fine sand and desert rocks gave way to firmer, cracked earth beneath my hooves. A light breeze arose, accompanied by a subtle drop in temperature, offering a soothing contrast to the relentless heat of the dunes. Nature, in its slow progression, was transforming under my hooves and my gaze, abandoning the relentless aridity of the desert and the scars of the cracked earth. In their place, the dawn of a budding forest opened up. The dry bushes, once dominated by brown and yellow hues, were gradually taking on a greener, more vibrant, and promising color. Among them, young trees timidly emerged. A small group of gray mountains emerged on the horizon. They seemed to cluster at the center of the forest. My hooves pressed into the grass as I moved forward, the forest growing increasingly dense around me. The ground, now harder to navigate, forced me to slow my already leisurely pace. I could feel branches snapping and grass bending under my weight, only to spring back into place. Suddenly, a movement caught my eye, and I instinctively leaped back. My eyes widened as fangs snapped shut on the very spot where my hoof had been just moments earlier. A snake reared up, its tongue flicking out as it fixed its gaze on me, unblinking. I stared at it, both amused and fascinated by its stealth, feeling a certain satisfaction in my reflexes. "You’ll have better luck next time," I said, my voice carrying neither reproach nor insult, just a simple truth I had no qualms with. "But why attack me?" I scanned my surroundings carefully, keeping the snake in my peripheral vision. Perhaps it had sensed my shadow on the ground or felt the vibrations of my approach through the earth. Whatever the reason, at that precise moment, it had decided I was either a threat or prey. The snake remained poised, its slender body swaying slightly, unable to comprehend the words leaving my mouth. Not that it mattered—its reaction wouldn’t have changed even if it could hear me, as snakes are deaf, or so I vaguely remembered from my survival training. I sidestepped it calmly, feeling its gaze follow me until I disappeared into the forest. My awareness sharpened now, I doubled my caution, knowing full well that while my reflexes had served me well this time, dying to something so trivial would be the height of foolishness. I felt a sly smile creep onto my face, almost against my will. The tranquility of ponykind seemed irrevocably behind me.
At the edge of the voidI have always presented myself as a proud royal guard, and from a young age, I became passionate about the art of war. So why, now that this goal has been achieved, do I feel so empty? Why, beneath my beautiful armor, do I feel like I’m suffocating? Why do I avoid my own reflection in the mirror? Why, when on leave, do I lie on my camp bed, drained of energy and will? Why do I have to force myself to eat? I hate myself without understanding why. No one but me can provide an answer, and yet, this discomfort gnaws at me to the core. At night, I dream of being someone else, but by the next day, I’ve forgotten who I wanted to be. The rare times my gaze meets the mirror, I look at myself with contempt, as if I were nothing but trash. What do I truly want? I seek neither glory, nor money, nor recognition. The affection of others means little to me, and love... I gave up on the idea a long time ago. The only mare I ever loved eventually bored me. I close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift, but each time, I hit a wall of sadness, weariness, and an overwhelming sense of insignificance. Perhaps I have unknowingly sunk into a state of total detachment from this world. Even the princess, who once amazed me the first time I saw her, no longer holds that same magical glow. What once seemed beautiful to me has become a meaningless vision. My memories take me back to my childhood, to foal school in Canterlot. The last in my class, I couldn’t stay still, preferring to explore the many streets and dark alleys of the capital, flying out the window at night. Every new discovery was more interesting than what the school tried to teach me, which caused my parents and teachers to despair, wondering what they were going to do with me. However, it is true that seeing the royal guards in their shining armor, their serious and impassive gaze, as if they were above it all—anger, sadness, fear... above me, a simple foal with no future—left its mark. As for Princess Celestia, she sat upon her throne, her multicolored mane flowing despite the lack of wind, as if it had a will of its own. Her vibrant colors spread in contrast to the pure whiteness of her coat and the simplicity of her jewelry, compared to the unnecessarily complex attire of the decadent nobility of this city. Yet, she embodied the face of Equestria, the very symbol of our nation, a figure who had stood for over a thousand years and, as my instructor had said when I was a young adult and took the step to join the guard, she would continue to reign forever. But it had been years since I could no longer believe in it. She was too pure, too kind, too indulgent... and, after the changeling attack, too weak. My memories swirled in my mind as I opened my flask filled with cider, taking a long sip while lying on my bed. The sparkling taste eased my mind a little, but it didn’t chase away the deep distress that haunted me—a distress of which I was sadly aware. Alcohol, refuge of the weak. And me, at that moment, I was no better. A bitter smile brushed my lips. What irony that I could be so disappointed in myself that my own misery almost became a form of entertainment... Another proof that I had become the resigned spectator of my downfall. The alcohol gradually numbed my senses, urging me to close my eyes as my thoughts continued to swirl. My eyes slowly welled up with tears, while images of my parents, proud of me, as well as the last time I remembered being happy, passed before my eyes... The day I joined the royal guard, I realized that, lacking anything better, I had chosen the path that would make my parents proud, but without making myself happy. I got out of bed and left the dormitory to head to the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall. I exhaled loudly, letting my tears flow. I had no reason to be sad, but once again, they flowed on their own. That was why I wasn’t happy: I had unconsciously chosen to make others happy, without thinking of myself. I channeled, in an intense mental effort, my darkest memories: the changeling attack. I replayed the scene, my hooves trembling uncontrollably. The chain of command was overwhelmed, becoming unreadable, while our princess lay on the ground and the enemies shattered Shining Armor’s shield. Furthermore, I wasn’t on duty at that moment, but my trembling hooves had grabbed the first heavy weapon within reach, while orders and the sounds of battle echoed throughout the palace. It was neither honor nor duty that had driven me to arm myself, but fear and my desperate desire to escape this place. I remember my intention clearly: to reach the nearest balcony, jump into the void, and spread my wings to flee from the assault. However, on my way, despite myself, I managed to take a few invaders out of action that I couldn’t avoid around the corners of the hallways. My screams, amplified and distorted by the echoes, turned my terrified call for Celestia’s grace into a war cry in the ears of others. Some of my colleagues, recognizing my voice, now took me for an unyielding hero of the guard, when in reality, I was simply trying to save my hide from this walking Tartarus. I still remembered the heavy and desperate blows I struck with that improvised club, the panic rising in me when the object broke, forcing me to strike with my own hooves against their black, sharp shells. The fear of these creatures spitting and buzzing slowly transformed into a pure surge of adrenaline, pushing my body to its limits, pulling me further away from reality as my senses sharpened. A metallic taste flooded my mouth, my eyes caught every detail... Was it at that moment that I truly felt alive? The realization hit me suddenly, and at the same time, it brought a strange sense of relief: I was only alive when I was on the edge of death. My tears immediately stopped flowing, as if this realization had the power to stop them. I replayed the sequence of events in my mind, and yes, now I remembered it clearly. My screams of fear had fallen silent, my heart was beating so fast it threatened to break my ribs, and a smile had appeared on my face as my gaze fixed solely on the enemies, my strength seeming to multiply in their presence. Yet, I also remembered being overwhelmed by their numbers, covered in their secretion, shouting a challenge before my eyes closed, letting me sink. I hadn’t opened them again until the battle was over, lying in the infirmary, covered in wounds silently marking a fierce fight. Since my childhood, I had never dreamed of becoming a mere royal guard, a simple Pegasus serving an obsolete and powerless army. No, I wanted to live free, live for myself, far from this golden cage. I came out of my coward's hiding place and returned to my camp bed to gather my few civilian belongings and the little bits of change I had saved. I didn’t even bother to officially resign; let them consider me a deserter, it didn’t matter. What were they going to do, after all? Be shocked? Deliver long speeches to their pawns? A small, amused laugh escaped me at that thought. I had wasted far too much time in this farce they called the Royal Guard. It was probably out of pride that I had wanted to please Princess Celestia. As for Princess Luna and her Night Guard... I had never been able to stand them, always in the shadows, almost hiding, even when they were supposed to be patrolling the castle. I left the palace through the grand gates, my saddlebags perfectly adjusted, and took a deep breath: this was the beginning of a new life.
Into the WindRebirth, novelty, freedom: these words resonated within me as the palace faded into the distance. It was time for me to live by my own rules. I existed, I burned with desire, and my wings had never felt so light. I puffed out my chest proudly, my muscles taut, like those of my former comrades on parade. My eyes certainly gleamed with a newfound determination. My gaze, filled with unabashed contempt, lingered on those noble mares and stallions, always ready to crush those who hadn’t had the “privilege” of being born into the right family. It was unbearable for them that a proud Pegasus dared to glare at them like the trash they truly were, perched atop their false pedestals! Their apparent fragility almost made me smile: they looked like they needed a protective glass case, with a large label reading ‘Fragile.’ To my great delight, the astonishment painted on their faces, their almost instinctive recoil as I passed, had become a strangely addictive source of satisfaction. I must have been an intimidating sight in their eyes, though it never took much to terrify a noble. My hooves struck the cobblestones with purpose. I didn’t yet know where I was heading, but this city made me sick. Leaving it felt far more tempting than staying. After all, I was about to become a deserter, and all of Equestria lay open before me, far from my hometown. The big questions remained: should I take to the skies or board the train to leave? What precautions should I take? Most importantly, what equipment would I need for this new life? What would my first objective be? These questions were unfamiliar to me, but their answers would be guided by necessity and the training I had received. Deep down, one truth remained: a stallion doesn’t get far without bits, and the little I carried wouldn’t guarantee more than a few nights at an inn and some simple meals. Wandering alone wouldn’t bring much profit, and turning to banditry would attract unwanted attention far too quickly... but perhaps a blend of the two might just work. A smile spread across my muzzle as my steps carried me toward the exit of this capital, now particularly repugnant in my eyes. Despite its marble monuments and imposing structures, it seemed to me nothing more than a glorified pile of stones, to which I owed nothing anymore. My hooves led me out of the city, and I found myself taking a deep breath, as if the air was suddenly fresher, less stifling. The ground, though still paved, grew less well-maintained, and I felt my wings twitch slightly as I instinctively spread them to their full span, closing my eyes. My entire body stretched, as if awakening from a long, deep slumber. I even noticed faint cracks along my back and wings, and I felt as though I had instantly regained the physical form and abilities I’d had at the end of my training. I reopened my eyes, feeling the sun warm my coat without the interruption of buildings muting its heat. Gathering all the strength in my legs, I launched myself into the air, my wings beating powerfully at the exact moment a breeze picked up. Was this it—the sensation of freedom? Was this what the colt I once was had been whispering to me in my dreams? "Yes," I instinctively breathed, a childlike smile gracing my lips. At last, I felt in control of my own body again, and my meticulously trimmed mane fluttered softly in the blend of my speed and the gentle wind. I flew as if I had just rediscovered my wings for the first time, soaring through the clouds, edging closer to that boundary every Pegasus must respect, where the air becomes so thin that breathing itself becomes impossible. Then, I let myself fall, my limbs fully spread, eyes closed against the sky. The adrenaline from this freefall allowed me to hear the pounding of my own heart, thumping with exhilaration. I spun around to regain a more stable flight, feeling my muscles tingle slightly from the effort. But this pain was a good one—the kind that forges a stronger stallion. Perched on a branch, I watched the sun sink toward the horizon. The red-orange light bewitched me, even though I knew it was being controlled by some being. How long had it been since I took the time to enjoy such a simple spectacle? The answer came instinctively, without thought: "Too long," slipped from my closed lips. I smiled to myself, as if savoring this moment of tranquility. Gradually, night spread its veil over the world, and the temperature dropped gently. I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I could no longer make out the castle of Canterlot; from the position of the setting sun, I must have flown westward. Cloudsdale shouldn’t be too far, but the idea of swapping a pile of stone for a mass of clouds didn’t exactly excite me. The night promised to be cold, but I had been trained for such situations. I broke a few branches to build myself a makeshift shelter; it was soothing to hear the sounds of nature, free from the officers’ yelling or the snores and other noises of my colleagues. My eyes slowly began to close… I woke with the first light of dawn, my stomach growling slightly. Despite that, I felt completely rested. I swept away the morning dew that had settled on my makeshift blanket, the drops gently crushing beneath my movements. The fresh air of the dawn seemed to breathe peace, and I took a moment to brush my feathers and clean them roughly before stretching fully. The dreams that had passed through my mind had dissipated upon waking, but for once, they left no unpleasant feeling. My mind seemed calm, at ease… a welcome change. Unfortunately, one thing couldn’t wait: returning to a civilized place. Making survival gear myself and hunting for food would take far too long. And I wouldn't say no to some cider. I spread my wings and soared into the sky. My deductions were correct: in the distance, I could see Cloudsdale, that floating city, suspended in the air like a pale imitation of grandeur. A heap of woven clouds, fragile structures pretending to be a sanctuary for pegasi. I supposed that the rainbows bursting from it came straight from the cloud factory’s waste, no doubt. But well, my desire for cider and supplies easily outweighed the nausea that washed over me at the sight of the city. Even though, as I got closer, the composition of the clouds seemed artificial. The shapes were carefully arranged, trying to mimic nature, but too clean, too cut, to resemble something alive. It was obvious that the pegasi who had sculpted it had become far too detached from nature to even notice. My hooves eventually touched the clouds that formed the floor of this future ruin. The sensation was strangely unpleasant: too soft, too smooth, and above all, too uniform, as if every patch of cloud had been evenly flattened to create this vile, flat, featureless surface. I didn’t have to take more than five steps before I took to the air again, propelling myself upwards to hover over the streets, searching for a store and, more importantly, a bar. Finding the store I was looking for took me about an hour. These places were populated by creatures with no adventurer’s blood, having forgotten the time when we were Equestria’s warrior race. I tried not to think too much about it as I dropped down in front of this blue building, where the sign with white letters proudly displayed the name "Nuagathlon." I quickly entered, scanning the aisles while muttering at the overpriced goods. I grabbed some lightweight camping gear, easily portable, along with new saddlebags, knowing that would suffice for the journey ahead. The cashier, a pale pegasus mare with light gray fur and a mane carefully trimmed in shades of blue and white, wore a distracted expression, likely more concerned with the positioning of her wings than with the customer standing before her. I had to give her credit for one thing: she was beautiful in that appearance, even though the faint scent of perfume and the subtle gleam of her mane brought me back to reality, just like this place did. She was fake in her own way. I placed my items on the counter heavily, to interrupt her thoughts with the noise, and I looked her in the eyes without bothering to smile. I was searching for a hint of emotion or pride in the face of my rough manner, almost daring her to show me something. She flinched slightly in surprise, hardly meeting my gaze before quickly looking away, opting instead to cowardly stare at her hooves. "Good day, sir," she said, her voice soft and slightly trembling as she began counting the items. That vision of submission both saddened and reassured me in the thought that my own kind had lost what had kept it standing for so long: its warrior spirit. "At least lift your head," I growled. I saw her muzzle rise slightly, but her eyes remained fixed on the items. She had clearly finished counting. "I apologize, sir," she said, a brief silence following. "That’ll be 50 bits, please, sir." The temptation to grab the gear and leave without paying was strong. After all, who was going to stop me? I pushed the thought away, reluctantly. I was going to have enough problems soon enough. I placed the Bits on the counter and left the store before she even finished counting—after all, the total was correct. Once outside, I adjusted my new gear precisely, carefully balancing the weight to avoid being thrown off-balance in flight. The burden was comforting, though it lacked a weapon, and I knew in this pacified city, I wouldn't find anything to serve that function—at least not as effectively. The royal guards had only one blacksmith dedicated to crafting weapons and armor, making the acquisition of arms, though legal, complicated—perhaps even impossible. That was why the country had lasted this long... I turned this thought over in my mind as I flew, adjusting to the new weight on my shoulders. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of my hunger. Rather than looking at the many restaurant signs, I took the time to inhale the air lightly, trying to pick up on an enticing scent. As I continued to fly, my keen nose caught a whiff of something mouthwatering from a small stand at the edge of an alley. In contrast to the flashy neon signs of the neighboring restaurants, this one was modest—almost discreet. A simple faded canvas canopy, from which wafted the delightful aroma of fresh, sweet fruits. Without giving it another thought, I descended and landed right in front of the stand. The person behind the stand was an elderly mare, her brown coat speckled with a few gray hairs at her temples. Her wings appeared strong, a clear sign of her vitality. The wrinkles on her face marked the passage of years, yet she wore a genuine, calm smile, almost wise, as if she had seen the entire city change without ever being disturbed by it. Her piercing blue eyes scanned each passerby, and her ears were attuned to the slightest sound. It was a refreshing sight. After what little I had seen of the city, I knew that this mare still carried within her the pride and strength of the pegasi, despite her advanced age. She smiled at me without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world to offer, and with a simple nod of her head, invited me to help myself. "What can I offer you, young Pegasus?" she asked, her voice gentle yet firm, carrying a quiet authority. I took a moment to observe the stands, the colorful fruits spread out before me. The apples, pears, and peaches looked freshly picked, their skin gleaming under the soft light. Yet, one thing caught my attention more than the rest: a dish slowly simmering on a small stove, hidden under a curtain of steam. "What's that?" I asked, gesturing respectfully with my head toward the dish. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she looked me up and down. "A simple vegetable stew, prepared by me, and I think it could do you some good." I smiled faintly. She seemed to know more than she was letting on. "I'll take your advice, something many ponies in this city should do." The mare smiled gently at my remark, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. She raised a hoof and pointed to the steaming dish with a subtle motion, inviting my gaze to settle on it. "It’s never too late to learn, young Pegasus," she said, her voice soft yet full of wisdom. "The city may chase a thousand things, but the real things... they stay here, in simplicity." Indeed, my nostrils appreciated the smell, and I found myself salivating, a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time. The sweet scent of the vegetables simmering in the stew seemed to cling to the air, reminding me of simple, comforting meals from long ago. The warmth of the steam, the light humidity escaping from the dish, gave me a sense of warmth and comfort I hadn’t felt in... I cut off my train of thought, knowing that the old mare, whose eyes pierced right through me, could have seen my distress. "I'll take a portion," I said. The old mare turned slowly, as if savoring every movement, and took a wooden spoon to serve the steaming stew. The vegetables floated in a thick broth, golden orange, and the aroma filled my nostrils with a gentle yet powerful sweetness. She handed me the dish in a small clay bowl, her eyes shining with a kindness that, this time, touched me more than I had expected. She was not a fake, but a mare who loved what she did, with the wisdom that came from age. A real mare. I took the bowl with gratitude and gave her the bits, which she didn't even bother to count, smiling gently at me. "Enjoy your meal." I sat on the bench in front of the stall, my hooves trembling slightly. The fragrance of the stew mixed with the cool air of the city, and for a moment, I let myself be carried away, forgetting everything else. Expect the need for a drink after that.
Breath of the South WindThe bowl of stew that the old mare had served me was a true delight. The steam rising from it enveloped my senses with an enchanting, rich, and warm fragrance, while the aroma teased my nostrils with a comforting sweetness. Each bite tested my tongue, so used to the bland and monotonous meals from the mess hall. This stew even surpassed the pretentious "luxury" restaurants in the capital, where the food seemed to have lost all soul, reduced to a mere display of appearances. I took my time, savoring each moment, without haste. The world could stop; nothing mattered as long as this dish warmed me from within. My gaze drifted for a moment to the street, watching the passing crowd. It wasn’t a captivating spectacle, nor a defining moment, yet my attention lingered on the younger ones, the foals whose eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, the glow of an untouched dream. Their energy seemed almost palpable, like a breath of fresh air cutting through a stuffy room. Their wings quivered, eager, as though waiting for the impulse of the wind to unfurl. The contrast with their parents was striking. The adults, weighed down by the burden of social conventions, struggled to suppress their freedom, keeping them within the narrow boundaries of a supposedly "civilized" society. In a world where agitation and effervescent dreams were seen as disturbances to be suppressed, these young pegasi were a breath of fresh air, a reminder that this sanitized existence was not natural. It had been imposed upon us, rooted in our society so that those without ambition could thrive, taking refuge from the change and surprises the world offers. But how long could this last? I stood up, my thoughts interrupted by the unpleasant sensation of the artificial texture beneath my hooves, which caused me to let out a soft grunt. I carefully placed the bowl back on the stand with an almost ritualistic reverence, then gave the old mare a slight nod, while feeling the weight of my thoughts settle back into place, heavy with every passing moment. I really needed that drink... Back in the sky, I was once again drifting through this impersonal assembly of clouds, searching for a bar that might look decent. Everything seemed strangely artificial, as if every element had been designed without soul. The signs, though colorful, reflected neither spirit nor personality, and the names they bore, when legible, were just pale wordplays, lacking flavor. Finally, I resigned myself to land in front of one of these indistinct bars, all equally devoid of character. I entered noisily, even though the place was open at this hour, as the locals were either working or at least pretending to. I barely took a moment to observe the décor, expecting nothing remarkable, yet I could not escape disappointment. The furniture was mundane, a series of raw wooden chairs and tables. The walls were decorated with frames of random music groups and banal posters, seemingly chosen out of obligation rather than taste. There was no warmth here, no story hidden behind each object, no trace of passion in the arrangement of the place. It was as if the place had been created to be forgotten, a mere stop between two insignificant destinations. The bar, a long gleaming wooden counter, seemed to have never known the shadow of a customer, as if the memory of those who had come had erased itself as soon as they left. The bartender looked up at me, likely due to my noisy entrance. His movements were mechanical. He was a dull dark gray pegasus, with a tired mane hanging like an old curtain. His wings stayed still, folded against his back, as if he had forgotten that they were meant to fly. The only thing preventing me from judging him more harshly was the indifference that his existence stirred in me. I approached the bar and placed my hooves on it without ceremony, without emotion. “What can I get you?” His voice, without conviction, escaped as he gazed at me absently, wiping an already clean glass. “Phoenix Heart.” I stopped him with a sharp gesture of my hoof as he reached for a shot glass. “The bottle.” The bartender blinked, seeming barely to understand. His lost gaze rested on me for a moment before slowly moving to the bottle. He barely shrugged, as if he had no idea what I truly meant. But he obeyed, without asking questions, and retrieved the bottle with the symbol: two fiery phoenixes forming a heart. I smiled as he placed the bottle in front of me, and I flicked off its cap with a swift motion of my wings. A warm, spicy, almost mystical scent escaped, sharply contrasting with the cold atmosphere of this place. A sigh escaped me, not of relief, but of frustration. It wasn’t just the bar that lacked life, it was the entire city. With the bottle in my wings, I finally brought it to my thirsty lips. “Are you sure?” The bartender asked uncertainly, as if trying to redeem a moment of life in this dull world. I didn’t bother answering him, and took a long sip of the burning liquid. My tongue was on fire, and I could feel the heat of the different spices running down my throat, but in a delicious way, a strong liquor that offered much. My smile widened as I placed the bottle back on the bar. The glow of the orange liquid, caught by the dimming light of the place, seemed almost alive, like a flickering flame in the darkness. “You’re empty,” I finally said, breaking the silence with a voice tinged with contempt. The bartender seemed startled, as if my remark had suddenly pulled him from his stupor. “Pardon?” he replied, his folded wings twitching slightly without ever spreading. “Two bottles to go,” I said bluntly, my eyes fixed on his, searching in vain for a sign of life. “Sorry, but we don’t...” I slammed my right hoof down onto the counter, making it crack under the impact. A small spark appeared, marking the pristine furniture with a crack. I stared at him intensely, my gaze leaving no room for discussion. The bartender, completely thrown off, slowly nodded. “I’ll... I’ll get that for you.” His gaze fled from mine before he trotted quickly to the back of the bar. I took another sip, waiting, a smile slowly spreading across my lips. At least, I had left a memory in this soulless place. I launched myself out of that dull city, abandoning its bleak, lifeless atmosphere without regret. I wasn’t trying to understand where this departure would lead me; my wings finally spread, free, choosing their own path. Gradually, the artificial shapes of the clouds, traced by the shadow of the buildings, gave way to their true wild beauty, a sky where each cloud seemed to float unhindered, carried by the pure breeze, unbroken by the shadow of the city’s frozen walls. My thoughts, like a gentle wind, drifted southward, toward the mysterious lands beyond the Macintosh Hills. A region almost forgotten, whose whispers and legends barely circulated in Equestria. The idea of this untamed land, still scarcely explored, stirred in me an almost uncontrollable fervor. My heart raced at the thought of hidden wonders, buried secrets, and even the dangers that lay in wait, lurking in the shadows. These dangers didn’t scare me; on the contrary, they seemed to give meaning to every beat of my heart and lend new strength to my wings. Isn’t that the life promised to the bold?
Whispers of the DesertI quickly set up my tent as the sun began its slow descent over the San Palimo Desert. From the rocky peak where I had settled, I savored every moment of this spectacle. The sky, in constant change, was tinged with burning orange and deep purple, while darkness inexorably stretched over the dunes. This desert must be one of the few places in Equestria where the transition from day to night was so tangible. As the sun declined, a dark line advanced over the sand, gradually swallowing up the still-burning dunes. This phenomenon seemed independent, free, yet it was still linked to the whims of the unicorns or alicorns. I found myself dreaming of a world where light and darkness danced like this, in perfect autonomy, without the slightest magical intervention. A world where every being would be left to its own devices, challenging the elements to tame them. A world where rain would fall on its own, without any pegasus having to guide it. This thought, though fleeting, awakened in me a strange admiration for the earth ponies. They, deprived of magic or wings, still managed to make themselves indispensable. Their survival didn’t rely solely on brute strength, but on their ingenuity and incredible ability to adapt. They had learned to shape their environment without bending it to their will, unlike us pegasi or, to a lesser extent, the unicorns. This desert, vast and untamable, could only inspire deep respect in me for those beings who faced the world with nothing but their hooves, claws, or teeth as weapons. Dragons, griffons, and many other races, for whom magic and cloud manipulation were nothing more than oddities. By this simple fact, they were superior to us, for they had never needed to depend on artifices to tame their environment. And I have no doubt that they would outlive us, should we ever disappear from the face of this world, whether under an eternal day or in an endless night. These thoughts stirred contradictory feelings within me. A certain pride, first: that of rising above the narrow view of my species, of glimpsing the world in its vastness and diversity. But also an insidious realization: the insignificance of Equestria, and of the different pony races, in the face of the vastness of this world. My gaze wandered to the horizon, where the sun was setting over the ocean. A green gleam, almost unreal, briefly crossed the line where the waters met the sky, pulling a smile from me. Despite all her power, even Celestia couldn’t have produced such a phenomenon. This natural mystery, whether a mirage or a reality, had something deeply comforting about it. A proof that the world could stand on its own. I felt happy to have witnessed this spectacle, fulfilled in a way I had never known. The first stars timidly appeared in the sky, lighting up one by one like silent promises. I watched them, motionless, in a place where no pegasus moved or shaped the clouds, where no horn radiated its light into the night, and where no buildings had been constructed. The wind began to rise, softly whistling against the rocky peak, slipping through my mane and tail. Too short, alas, to fully enjoy the sensation, but enough for the cold to gently bite through my fur. This bite, far from being unpleasant, had something invigorating about it, like a reminder that I was here, in the present moment, connected to this raw landscape. Since I had left the palace, nature had ceased to be a constraint or nuisance for me. I still didn’t know how to define it, nor what role it should play in my life, but I knew one thing: here, far from the walls and rules of Equestria, it asked nothing of me. It simply existed. I took a deep breath of the night air before retreating into my tent to sleep for the night. The gentle warmth and the light filtering through the canvas of my tent slowly woke me. I stretched slowly, listening to my joints crack with the movement before poking my head out of the tent. The scent of the warm sand filled my senses, a soft fragrance that was already familiar. I calmly folded my belongings, unhurried, savoring this moment of tranquility. Nothing was urgent, and in fact, everything seemed to encourage me to linger, to extend the moment. Yet, other horizons awaited me. Nothing would hold me here, not even this place, soothing as it was. I would return, perhaps, one day. But today, a particular road was calling me. I gently launched myself from the heights, allowing my wings to slow my descent until I reached the ground. My hooves met the still-cool sand, which would soon warm under the kiss of the sun. I began to walk leisurely, each step infusing a little more warmth into my coat. I made my way through the undulating dunes and rock formations near the mountain peaks. The only sign of Equestrian presence in these remote lands was the trace my hooves left in the sand, ephemeral marks destined to disappear. The winds, when they rose, would erase these footprints, restoring nature’s dominion and wiping away any trace of my passage. Little by little, the landscape transformed. Dry bushes now dotted the scene, piercing the aridity like shards of tenacious life. The fine sand and desert rocks gave way to firmer, cracked earth beneath my hooves. A light breeze arose, accompanied by a subtle drop in temperature, offering a soothing contrast to the relentless heat of the dunes. Nature, in its slow progression, was transforming under my hooves and my gaze, abandoning the relentless aridity of the desert and the scars of the cracked earth. In their place, the dawn of a budding forest opened up. The dry bushes, once dominated by brown and yellow hues, were gradually taking on a greener, more vibrant, and promising color. Among them, young trees timidly emerged. A small group of gray mountains emerged on the horizon. They seemed to cluster at the center of the forest. My hooves pressed into the grass as I moved forward, the forest growing increasingly dense around me. The ground, now harder to navigate, forced me to slow my already leisurely pace. I could feel branches snapping and grass bending under my weight, only to spring back into place. Suddenly, a movement caught my eye, and I instinctively leaped back. My eyes widened as fangs snapped shut on the very spot where my hoof had been just moments earlier. A snake reared up, its tongue flicking out as it fixed its gaze on me, unblinking. I stared at it, both amused and fascinated by its stealth, feeling a certain satisfaction in my reflexes. "You’ll have better luck next time," I said, my voice carrying neither reproach nor insult, just a simple truth I had no qualms with. "But why attack me?" I scanned my surroundings carefully, keeping the snake in my peripheral vision. Perhaps it had sensed my shadow on the ground or felt the vibrations of my approach through the earth. Whatever the reason, at that precise moment, it had decided I was either a threat or prey. The snake remained poised, its slender body swaying slightly, unable to comprehend the words leaving my mouth. Not that it mattered—its reaction wouldn’t have changed even if it could hear me, as snakes are deaf, or so I vaguely remembered from my survival training. I sidestepped it calmly, feeling its gaze follow me until I disappeared into the forest. My awareness sharpened now, I doubled my caution, knowing full well that while my reflexes had served me well this time, dying to something so trivial would be the height of foolishness. I felt a sly smile creep onto my face, almost against my will. The tranquility of ponykind seemed irrevocably behind me.
