//------------------------------//
// The Star That Fell From the Sky 
// Story: The Star That Fell From the Sky 
// by Scrying Mind 
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Again, again! Again intrude upon my hopeless mind
and speak across my wordless lips the words I hoped to find
alone. My thoughts are nothing next to your enlightened blaze
which burns my mouth, demanding to be shared. And when the rays
spill out across the ears of those who listen, all their praise
falls onto me and not the Muse who guides me all my days.

Describe, dear Muse, what horrid beast usurped our destined throne
as rulers of our lives, our land, our precious, fated home.
What monster was it which destroyed Equestria’s frontiers?
Who broke our world into the state where cubes had become spheres?
Where light and dark were both the same, and days were useful myths?
Where hot and cold both sprang from flame, and flames betrayed the smiths?
He wore the face of one of us, as in a tragedy
the villain dons the lover’s mask, and though we all can see
the filth beneath, the mare on stage does not decide to flee.
His yellow eyes shone from behind the grotesque mask he wore.
Upon his head two twisting horns—one blue and gnarled and scored
with rings like segments of a centipede; the other pale
and branched, a copy of the deer, and from the neck to tail
a mismatched, clumsy string of features: different wings too small
to hold his weight up high. (What need if magic stopped his fall?)
Yellows, browns, and reds and greens, and scales and furs alike;
a lonely tuft atop his tail was waiting just to strike.

But somewhere in the countryside there was a little shack
where embers of rebellion glowed red within the black.
And embers cannot easily be threatened into dark,
for every breath of power spreads the thoughts of the anarch.
So Comet, pony of the earth, had waited long enough
for some great warrior to appear and fight the battle tough
against their foe. Impatience wore and frayed away her seams.
She asked her father, a farmer who was old enough to dream
of days before the pillars came, though long since they had left,
listened to her shaking voice—of joy and hope bereft:
“Back then,” she said, “the heroes rose, and then the villains fell.
But no one comes to rescue us? We’re told we have to dwell
in fear, in squalor? Doubtless we deserve some pleasure, too,
but all is lost, and we are forced to learn to live anew.”
“Back then,” her father then replied, “the heroes rose, it’s true,
but stop and think of who they were, and what that means for you.
Was Stygian, who was the key to end the Siren’s reign
some soldier? Warrior? Dressed in mail? Would he have been their bane
if so? Or was he clever and more sturdy in the mind
than all his peers? It’s no small task if you’re the one to find
the heroes that you want so much, but you just wait behind
and wait for someone to come save your twisted, horrid life
when you’re the one who could create the means to end this strife.
Please don’t forget that when a force spreads discord ‘cross the land
the little one is always first and last to take a stand.”
She stopped her pacing for a breath and took a look outside
at dying crops and floating oaks, despair the whole world wide.
“I fear we are not fighting one who fans on discord’s flame,
but rather Discord in himself, the thing that bears the name.”
“Then quit,” he said, “and hide away if that’s what you believe,
but keep in mind you’re saying Nature’s wits have taken leave.
This villain’s not a force of hers. Where he destroys, she weaves.”

She didn’t say a word to him, and neither he to she,
so silence overtook their home with its austere decree.
She gathered up her saddlebags, and kissed him on the head,
and mouthed, I love you, and you’ll see me once that monster’s dead.
He nodded, and he pulled a book from underneath his chair
and prayed he wouldn’t finish it before she returned there.
But she was off, and she was cloaked, and cast her furtive gaze
around the hills and roads and streams as if they were a maze.
She made a maze as every step she second-guessed her route,
and doubled back, and skipped her turns, and darted all about
the many miles she had to walk before she reached the town
where Storm Cloud had lived years before. Though Discord had the crown,
he wasn’t watching everything, but Comet didn’t know,
so playing Discord’s absent games, she wandered to and fro.
Her wasted time required her to stop for food and drink;
unfortunately, now she had a quiet time to think
about her plan, or lack thereof. A cloud formed on her head
and cast a shadow on her face, so ponies splitting bread
and sipping wine and trying to forget or find some cheer
could feel the presence of her gloom the moment they got near
to her, so all the tables on the left were empty save
for two: herself and one green pegasus against the wave.

The pegasus to Comet walked and sat down on the stool
across from her. “Come on, what’s got you looking like a ghoul?
I feel like you’re waiting for some horrid thing to come.
Can I help? I hate to see a pony look so glum.”

She sighed. “Is that your offer? Is that your helping hoof?
Insult me first, then act like I’m the one who’s all aloof?
In case you didn’t notice, all Equestria’s gone mad,
and right outside that window—look!—you see just how bad
things have gotten. Hills we planted flowers in are plaid,
and trees we climbed as fillies and colts are burdened with their fruits.
The apples drag the branches down! It’s a wonder that the roots
support the weight. I wish I could just do this on my own:
usurp this king and claim the rightful glory of our throne,
but I’m no warrior, mage, or scout. I can’t do this all alone.”

The pegasus then stood up tall, and he puffed out his chest
and flashed his emerald badge, and when she wasn’t quite impressed,
he flexed his wings and said, “Dear filly, don’t forget the skies
were once patrolled by pegasi from sundown to sunrise.
I happen to have been a soldier, a Cloudsdale legionnaire,
fighting for the ponies on the ground and in the air,
but when my captain told us to stop fighting that disease
which turned our clouds to candy, I felt I had to seize
the natural gifts bestowed in me and strike out on a quest:
restore the world to glory and make it its very best.
But I could not forget that I abandoned what I built.
I crawled into this bar to drown my conscience and my guilt,
but if you plan to bring him down, I’ll lend both blade and hilt.”

Comet glared at him, considering his temperament,
and sighed, deciding that she would be far too negligent
in her self-established goals if then she pushed away
the help of someone who (he claimed) had spent time in the fray.
She nodded, rose, and paid the server. Outside she glanced
both back and forth across the painted sky. She was entranced
until her friend decided force her gaze back to the earth.
“He’s trying to distract us,” said he, “and, for what it’s worth,
I think we’re more prepared than you will let yourself believe.
Believe in us, and don’t you think our friends back home will grieve.”

But Comet pulled away. The humid air had clogged her head.
She closed her eyes. “We must expand our team for what’s ahead.
Confronting Discord isn’t something we can just decide
to do and not expect we very well may die.”

Her newfound friend just barked a laugh. “You place him up too high.
Don’t you see that all these feints are conjured to belie
his weaknesses? When my squad tried to simply fight him off,
he turned our spears to rubber swords, and sure, the ploy paid off:
he flashed some lights in front of us and put us all to rout,
but surely we’d have beaten him if not for all our doubt.
He’s scaring us, and nothing more, to keep us all in line.
Believe me when I tell you now we’re going to be fine.
True, he can take our spears from us and set our spells askew,
but if we beat him with our hooves, there’s not much he can do.”

She sighed. “Alright then, if you’re sure... I didn’t catch your name.
I think that I should know the one that’s joining me in fame.”

“Oh, right! It’s Seafoam Breeze; my father built a little town
that floats upon the Horseshoe Bay with water all around.
He told me when I moved away that city was his best
accomplishment, so when he named me he never even guessed.”

“I’m Comet. While my story isn’t grand or great by far,
my father wished he had a foal upon a falling star,
and then he called his daughter that which listened from afar.”

Satisfied, the two of them did walk their final trail.
It wound through fields of popping corn, and then across the vale
beneath the shadow of the mountain looming towards the sky
upon which sat the marble city in the clouds on high.
The journey up to Canterlot was easy, more than most,
but would not have been so easy had it not been for their host.
Now, Discord might own everything: the sky, the land, the trees,
but on a pony’s final walk, it’s only Death who sees
it through, protecting them and giving them a moment’s peace
before their final agonies—before their minds must cease.
For no one ever cared for Death back when she was alive,
and pain and hurt were all she knew, so every day she strives
to give another pony what had been denied to her:
the shortest walk where not a care and not a leaf would stir.
She wished that she could tell them to enjoy their little walk
She wished that they would reminisce. She wished that they would talk
about their lives, the good they had, and all their silly falls.

But as it stood, the two of them were entering the walls
of Canterlot, and nothing broke their silence or their stride.
The manors and shops floated over a great field wide
where craters marked the rightful homes of the foundations turned
all upside down, so fires from the hearth did fall and burn
the ceiling. Comet held her breath and prayed the ponies here
had managed to escape and were not frozen in their fear.

The chambers of the council were still carved into the rock
of Mount Olympony, and Comet couldn’t help but gawk.
What regal splendor were the leaders of the tribes adorned!
And why had Discord spared the place? Perhaps they had been warned
of their incoming challenge and were huddled up inside.
But Seafoam Breeze thought something else, and just inside he spied
a freak kaleidoscope of colors dancing in the dark,
and swirling floors that wouldn’t please their ancient oligarchs.
He gestured at the randomness, and Comet saw it too:
their enemy was twisting up their ancient landmark’s hues.

With grim determination, Comet and that Seafoam Breeze
darted to the entrance to the bringer of disease.
They heard a noise, and knowing that their enemy inside
may know their presence, they decided they would want surprise.
Seafoam Breeze flew like an arrow cast a spell
of light to daze the double-horned and scaly beast of Hell.
But Discord grinned and snapped his claws, and Seafoam fell aground
without his wings. The floor itself began to write around
and wrap its tendrils black and green all over Seafoam’s legs,
who screamed in pain and gasped for air when pulled into the dregs.
And Comet, watching horrified, forgot to keep her eye
on Discord, who had grabbed her neck and lifted her up high.
She met his gaze—those yellow eyes!—and tried to squirm away
as hot breath fell upon her face. And then she knew the prey
ran from the predator from no desire to survive
but from a physical demand in all things yet alive.
She felt him squeeze his claws on her. She felt the trickling blood,
and as he dropped her on the ground, she only felt the thud.
She couldn’t hear him gloating as the dark began to creep,
and Death, the winged unicorn, did carry her to sleep.