//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: The Wanderings of a Mad, Mad, Madmare 
// by Retribution 
//------------------------------//

	In a land so many know of, beyond the borders of a kingdom ruled by a diarchy, in a long-unnamed desert, a lone figure strode lethargically. She had been living a great life not three days ago, but she had gone and ruined it. A stray strand of ethereal energy bent into the wrong shape, and it was all over. She hadn't meant to destroy it all, really. She just put a bit too much of herself into a spell. Granted, that tiny bit had gone wild and split the rioting ponies apart from the inside of each instead of splitting the ponies apart from each other, but everyone makes mistakes. Or had she been casting a reversal spell and accidentally reversed the ponies themselves instead of the enchantment? Maybe both, she contemplated, or maybe she had built a faulty spell matrix that collapsed in on itself, taking a decent bit of pony-shaped matter and turning it into antimatter.
Her hoof caught a small pile of gathered dust, scattering it to the wind.
It mattered not, she realized a moment later as the memory of the results beat on her fragile mind like an incoming tsunami. Not that she'd know anything about tsunamis, mind you. She had simply studied them at one point, and now she found the term resurfacing. Regardless, the image of that innocent little hamlet after it had been so violently defiled by the arcane stuck in her mind. Sure, she had done a horrible thing, but did they really have to banish her for it? Couldn't they have placed a rehabilitation spell on her or something? But of course, rehabilitation spells were one of her own projects, and no one could know for sure if she had sabotaged them in planning for this.
She stumbled a little on a small hole in the ground.
Of course, she hadn't planned it, but the lawyers insisted that she must have, and that they simply couldn't take her word for it. Oh, how she hated lawyers right then. If-- no, when-- she found civilization, she was going to kill the first lawyer she saw. No exceptions. Even if the princess herself had taken up law, she would do everything in her power to wipe the horrid creature from the face of the Earth.
Another hoof fall, more dust in the wind.
She wanted to kill something. She wanted to kill something, and she knew it, consciously knew it. She could feel her rage boiling up, yet it did not touch her. Curious. She was curious about why she could and simultaneously could not feel it. She knew she was being affected by it, yet she did not care. There was a certain... serenity in this curious form of anger, almost like she could use it.
More dust, this time preceding the slow, inexorable step.
It was at her disposal, and she could control it, yet... it needed to be let out. She had no choice, and so she realized that her ire was not truly under her control, though it made no difference. It was warping her, and she knew it, delighted in it. 
Small grains of sand began to idly flow around her, swirling about as if in a small cyclone, and she was the eye.
Insanity. It was the only coping mechanism she knew, and she was bloody well going to use it. It didn't matter now, her life was over days ago. Now all she could do was start anew.
Now larger masses of sand were caught up in the wind, forming looping tendrils around her.
Her magic had proven unstable time and time again. She needed a replacement. At least her hatred was reliable, and the more she let it twist her, the more in control of it she felt. Well, in control is the wrong term. Perhaps 'in sync with' is a better fit.
The sands billowed around her, bowing to her subconscious will.
She could never be Twilight Sparkle again. Twilight Sparkle had failed, and left her to the wolves. And by wolves, of course, I mean lawyers.
The winds swirled about, a fair tempest forming.
She needed to be someone else, someone stronger, more geared towards her own power, rather than hindered by logic or sanity.
The winds lashed across her, digging small furrows into her skin.
She needed less constriction, a new name, a new identity. She would become the one no one had heard of before that rushed through the ranks of society. She had spent enough time sitting and learning behind a desk, though there was always more to learn. She was broken, but a broken tool can be repurposed. She still needed to learn, but now a new method presented itself. Research was great, but nothing could come close to the indeniability of empirical data.
Now she found herself floating slightly off the ground as the wind lashed about, striking her, demanding she give it a directive.
A star can shine brightly, but when it goes out, something new and awesome is born.
A particularly jagged speck of sand grazed her right eyelid as she closed it, blood flying from the wound to join in the gale.
She had always been a beacon to the rest of society, the perfect example in nearly every case, and now she was falling from that position of grace and prestige. If she was going to go out, she would go out with a bang.
A harsh, horrid light emitted from her, her entire being changing.
Twilight Sparkle was dead. Now there was naught but Shattered Nova. And it felt good.
The storm struck at her, blood being torn from the flesh.
Those who had wronged her must pay, but one cannot dispense retribution properly when one does not bear a clear conscience. The sheer injustice of her situation fueled her, the urge to right that which was wrong overpowering her. What she had done was horrid, true, but she had no control over that, and this knowledge only served to drive her wrath to new levels. The knowledge of what she had done would weigh her down, certainly, but she would not let it affect her as it would have many others; depression, grief, paralysis, even suicidal behavior. She was insane, and so such words bore so very little meaning to her.
The tempest yet attempted to pry a command from its mistress.
But where to start? Perhaps, with a new identity would come a new opportunity for life. But where would she start?
The cyclone encompassing her had its orders. It would find a new home for she who owned it, and bring ruination to all that would dare stand in its way.
Shattered Nova was content with this outcome.