War of the Worlds

Epilogue

Twilight came to outside of Ponyville, as she looked around she was alone, no friends, no Midnight, not even the Elite. The one good thing about the situation was that she could see that the towers had been destroyed; only the shattered bases remained. Twilight stood up and resolved to go and look for her friends.

There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston Road, their outlines softened by the Black Dust. All was still, houses locked and empty, shops closed. A metallic groaning sound filled the still air, Twilight stopped, staring towards the sound. It seemed as if that mighty desert of houses had found a voice for its fear and solitude.

The desolating cry worked upon Twilight’s mind. The wailing took possession of her. She was intensely weary, footsore, hungry and thirsty. Why was she wandering alone in this city of the dead? Why was she alive, when Ponyville was lying in state in its black shroud? She felt intolerably lonely, drifting from street to empty street, drawn inexorably towards that cry.

She saw, over the trees on Primrose Hill, the Fighting Machine from which the howling came. She crossed Regents Canal. There stood a second machine, upright, but as still as the first. Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice sounded, Ponyville had still seemed alive. Now suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something - and all that remained was this gaunt quiet.

Twilight looked up and saw a third machine; it was erect and motionless, like the others. An insane resolve possessed her; she would give her life to the Martians, here and now. She marched recklessly towards the Titan and saw that a multitude of black birds was circling and clustering about the hood. She began running along the road. She felt no fear, only a wild, trembling exultation, as she ran up the hill towards, the motionless monster. Out of the hood hung red shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.

She scrambled up to the crest of Primrose Hill, and the Human's camp was below her. A mighty space it was, and scattered about it, in their overturned machines, were the Humans – dead.

The torment was ended; and though the Elements had been sacrificed the ponies scattered over the
country, desperate, leaderless, starved... the thousands who had fled by sea - including the one dearest to Applejack - all would return. The pulse of life, growing stronger and stronger, would beat again.

As life returned to normal, the question of another attack from Mars caused universal concern. Was their planet safe, or was this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be that, across the immensity of space, they have learned their lessons and even now await their opportunity. Perhaps the future belongs not to Ponies - but to the Humans?