Discord's Harmony

by Ironony

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Romance, Adventure
Length: 183

What is Harmony without Discord?

"Discord's Harmony" is a fan fic that I'm writing based on the concept that harmony cannot exist without chaos and disarray. They are the yin and the yang, they compliment each other. They are the beginning and the end.

This story fill follow a young colt named Trilby Ingram, the only Earth pony to be accepted into Princess Celestia's magic academy. When he receives a letter describing the murder of his friend Frans, Trilby feels compelled to complete his best friend's research on the Elements of Harmony.

While rooting through his late friend's note, Princess Celestia sends Trilby a letter of recommendation to study alongside with Twilight Sparkle at the Twigs and Branches Library in Ponyville.

However, when coming upon a strange orb, mysterious events occur. And when Twilight (who Trilby has a tiny crush on) disappears, Trilby blames himself and sets out to find out what it is that is going on.

The Element of Discord has always thought to be a myth amongst all ponies…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-02-08 02:27:15 UTC

The Second Coming (Prologue Poem)

Discord’s Harmony

by Shizen Moh

The Second Coming

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming!

Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight:

somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again;

but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)