The Lord of the Ponies: The Search for Harmony

The Tower of Orthanc, a fortress of black obsidian, gleaming with demonic magic, even under the obscuring smoke that blocked out Celestia's power. It rose five hundred feet on four invincible spires of many-sided stone welded into one, but near the summit they opened into gaping horns, their pinnacles sharp as spears and keen-edged as knives. The clattering of hammers and cruel wisps of smoke issued forth from caverns amid the now ash-colored land within the Ring of Isengard. Once, within the Ring, it had been green and filled with avenues and groves of fruitful trees, watered by streams that flowed from the Unicorn Range. But no green thing grew there in the latter days of Nightmare Moon, when the Changelings were invited into its boundary.

Nightmare Moon stood in her chamber, the diminishing light from the fires below seeping in through the balcony window. Her hoof hovered over the Palantír; her eyes were closed, the eyelids pained, and blood thundered through her head. Within the dark orb were swirls of fire and shadow, chaotic and savage.

The world is changing.

The fire within the Palantír ceased its frenzied antics. It reformed, darkness forming the base of a tower beside a river of fire. The gates into the structure opened like a Balrog's maw, and from its pitch-black depths marched out the uniform horde of Changelings.

Who now has the strength to stand against the armies of Isengard and Mordor? To stand against the might of Sauron and Nightmare Moon and the union of the two towers?

The Palantír's vision raced up the tower, blacker and darker and crueler than Orthanc. Up wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, the fortress an immeasurably strong mountain of iron with a gate of steel, a pillar of adamant... Barad-dûr, Fortress of Sauron. The clouds parted as Barad-dûr rose through the heavens to the flaming Eye of Sauron atop the tower, watching over the world.

Together, my Lord Sauron, we shall rule Equestria with immortal night.

***

The few beautiful trees surviving on the pitted plain of Isengard are soon hacked down by Changelings. Axes hewed into the trucks. Afterward, their carcasses were thrown down into the pits. Below, Nightmare Moon walked amongst those Changelings left in squalor, drenched in mud but eager to work. She watched as more axe-wielding Changelings hacked the rooted corpses into pieces, which were then tossed carelessly into the fire.

The Old World will burn in the fires of industry. The forests will fall.

The fire turned steel into molten metal, which was poured into molds of war. The finished blades were cooled; helmets were created; armor was forged. Swords were pounded into shape and added to a large pile.

A new order will rise. We will now drive the machine of war with the sword and the spear and the iron hoof of the Changelings.

Even farther down in the pits, where there was no smoke or fire, but instead moist and cool and dark, Dovakniik were birthed into creation. Their full forms were pulled from dirt-encrusted embryos and stumbled like toddlers to a Changeling who inspected the finished product.

Nightmare Moon approached the line of acceptable Dovakniik, smiling. Behind her followed the Changeling Overseer.

"I want them armed and ready to march within two weeks," ordered Nightmare Moon.

"But, my Queen, there are too many! They cannot all be armed in time; we don’t have the means," blurted the Changeling Overseer. He stopped in his tracks, his hoof tapping madly against the floor. Light drops of sweat began to pour down his face.

Nightmare Moon turned to look him straight on, and he saw a kind of black fire in her eyes, a hint that the omnipotent Alicorn had only shown him a minuscule fraction of her power. The Changeling Overseer saw vision of dark tentacles strangling ponies to death, corrupted warriors insane with blood lust, and entire kingdoms bowing before her. And he realized that if he disputed her command ever again, she would do worse things to him. His knees bent, and his head lowered, eyes shying away from her gaze.

"Build a dam. Block the stream from the mountains. Work the furnaces night and day."

"B-but even then, we wouldn't have enough fuel to feed the fires," stuttered the Changeling Overseer, flinching with every breath taken.

Nightmare Moon looked up. From the top of the pit shone only firelight, the entire observable sky covered in shadow. But yet, an even darker shadow was created as another tree was dropped into the burning pit. She smiled. "There is a forest that lies on our doorstep." She turned back to the Changeling Overseer, glaring at him coldly. "Burn it!"

The Changeling Overseer's gaze continued to avoid the form of Nightmare Moon. "Yes, your majesty."

***

We only have to remove those who oppose us. To the south lie the meager villages of Ponyville, Appleloosa, and Dodge City. Too long has Ponyville stood against you, mocking you as it hide in the shadow of your mountain, but no more. Ponyville, along with many others, will soon fall.

***

Ponyville now stood in flames. The Dovakniik ravaged the burning town and brutally murdered anypony that came across their path. Screams could be heard from the red schoolhouse as Cheerilee and her students were burned, trapped inside the wooden building. Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake were ripped into pieces, the parents forced to watch as the Dovakniik consumed their children. Sweet Apple Acres became a flaming field, as trees planted by the Apple family during the founding of Ponyville were transformed into massive torches.

But from the burning wreck of Ponyville's Town Hall, there came a question.

"Mom?” Dinky coughed. “Mom?" Dinky Doo crawled through the collapsing  seat of government, the harsh black smoke dangling above her. "Mom?" she called again, her eyes darting about for grey fur, offset golden eyes, or a blonde mane.

"Dinky!" cried Derpy, tackling the filly. She hugged her daughter close, forgetting the fire that raged around her and simply nuzzled Dinky's blackened face in her chest. But the fire continued to rage, and with a thunderous crack, a supporting beam collapsed, landing beside the embracing couple.

Derpy screamed, quick and shrill, crawling back with her daughter, her hooves pushing against the floor at the same rate as her racing heart. Distancing herself from the burning board, Derpy hugged her daughter harder. That's when she realized her daughter was barely breathing. Wheeling frantically, both eyes rolling in opposite directions, Derpy scanned for the slightest chance at escape.

There!

A beam of light, not fire but sun, shone through the burning Town Hall. Derpy galloped to the exit, ready to throw her daughter through the filly-sized hole. The light disappeared as a pony passed by. It was Time Turner.

"Time Turner?!" yelled Derpy above the screams. The shriek grabbed his attention, and he turned, spying the Pegasus' face in the burning tower.

"Dinky! Derpy!" he cried, racing to the makeshift exit. Dinky was fed through onto the stallion's awaiting back.

"Take her far, far away from here!" ordered Derpy, before another beam fell. A crunch rang through the building as Time Turner’s view of his wife was blocked. Time Turner screamed, rolling back. Dinky flew from his back, falling to the ground.

A Dovakniik peered down at the unconscious filly who had just landed before it, licking his lips hungrily, savoring the meal to come. His claw reached for her. She awoke, her eyes opening slowly, to discover the approaching terror. She screamed, what she thought would be her last.

Time Turner slammed into the Dovakniik, toppling the monster away from Dinky. The creature shot back up and turned towards the stallion. In his eyes rose an angry fire, and he roared at the paralyzed stallion. The Dovakniik grabbed him, squeezing the Earth Pony mercilessly. A series of cracks emanated from the Doctor, and blood oozed from his mouth. The Dovakniik's maw opened wide, Time Turner's head slowly being led into the stinking expanse.

Using the remainder of his strength, Time Turner turned to Dinky. "Run, Dinky," he choked out. Another crunch signified her father's grisly end. But Dinky wasn't there to witness it. She was already running, her tired legs carrying her into the crowd of other escaping ponies.

They were heading south.

She was heading south.

The herd of Buffalo charged towards Appleloosa’s apple orchard, which was evident in the distance. And as they stampeded closer, the path through the orchard appeared to grow wider and wider and wider. It was a comforting sight, made even more so by the three ponies who stood to greet them.

Chief Thunderhooves slowed to a saunter, his fellow tribe members following suit. He huffed loudly, a smile apparent on his features. "It is good to see our Appleloosan friends again. Tell me, are the apple pies as good this year as the last?”. Chief Thunderhooves breathed deeply, expecting the intoxicating aroma of apple pie to waft into his nostrils, but there was none. He looked to Braeburn with a confused expression, expecting an explanation.

From alongside her father, the Chief, Little Strongheart saw that Braeburn could look neither her or her father in the eye.  A forlorn expression clouded what could be seen of his face. But there, more bravely, stood Appleloosa's sheriff, Silverstar and one of his deputies. The sheriff stepped forward, his bravery fading as he approached the buffalo tribe. He pulled forth a scroll, unrolling the document, and held it high.

"By order of Mayor Valor, the buffalo tribe led by Chief Thunderhooves is to leave the lands belonging to Appleloosa immediately. Any further stampeding will be met with swift... extinction of Chief Thunderhooves, his relatives, and those belonging to his tribe." Sheriff Silverstar re-rolled the scroll, bowing his head as he retreated to his deputies side.

Chief Thunderhooves huffed white smoke, his face red and contorted into the most primal expression of aggression. He stomped his way to the Sheriff, yelling, "HOW DARE YO—" The Chief was silenced as the cold-eyed deputy stepped forth. He brandished a crossbow, aiming it just in front of Chief Thunderhooves, waiting for him to take a step.

The Chief raged on the spot, grinding the rocky earth with his hooves while he held a burning breath. A hoof on his shoulder distracted him, and he turned to face his daughter, her face showing a soft sadness. "Let it go," was all she said, before turning back for their home. Chief Thunderhooves huffed one last time, turning back to the plains as well. The rest of the buffalo followed.

But before disappearing into the sunset, Little Strongheart turned back to the stalwart ponies. The Sheriff and his deputy had left, but yet Braeburn stood there, watching them walk away with both self-pity and shame.

The last good pony, she thought before turning back to the setting sun.