Princesses of Equestria

Prologue: The Fall of Armonia

The world was dying, and it was all her fault.

Armonia couldn't see everything from up here, but she saw enough through the dawnlit haze. Twisted trees. Floating rubble. Inverted mountains. Cotton candy clouds. Chequerboard earth. On and on the Pandaemonium spread, a cancer festering upon the skin of Equestria.

Her Equestria. Her birthright. Her—

Focus. Priorities.

Far above the defaced ground, Armonia shook her head, pulled her cloak tight, and redoubled her pace. Though her batlike wings were wide and strong, she flew carefully. One does not idly glide into an enchanted cyclone ward, after all.

Thicker than a castle wall, the unnatural maelstrom filled the sky ahead. Even at this distance, its howling winds were fierce enough to tumble the hardiest of pegasi.

But Armonia was no pegasus.

A horn emerged beneath her hood, its steel tip glowing fiery red. With a fraction of her alicorn magic, Armonia shielded her precious cargo from the storm's fury. With a substantially larger fraction, she touched the wind, and made it her own.

The cyclone ward stalled. A hole opened on its surface, just wide enough for Armonia and her cargo to enter. Shaking from exertion, hornlight stuttering a fraction, she glided through.

As soon as she did, the storm's howl abated, fading to a dull thrum on the edge of hearing. A light but steady drizzle soaked Armonia's robe, and pattered off the objects she'd brought, their craggy forms obscured by scarlet telekinetic auras. After counting them carefully, Armonia set her sights on what she'd flown all this way for.

First, the Heartstone.

An ivory sphere, nearly the size of an adult pony, hovered directly in the storm's eye. Some feet below floated another, substantially larger rock; a circular flying island, near a hundred meters across.

Armonia landed with a grimace. The stone under her feet was chequered. The grass that poked through curled into spirals. And the Heartstone at the island's center was split by a crack that gushed black ooze. The vile substance pooled beneath its source, divided into thin streams, and drifted off its island to taint the lands below.

Armonia paced closer. A stench combining the worst parts of brimstone fumes, sour milk and, of all things, burnt rutabaga, assaulted her nostrils. Purging the stench with more enchanted wind, Armonia briskly placed her cargo at equidistant points around the island, then faced the Heartstone.

Once, it had shone with the glory of a newborn star. Now it was dull, wan, and broken. A pang of guilt gnawed at Armonia's gut. She crushed it, drew in magic (her special magic) and glanced at the lands beyond the Heartstone's island.

Then, Equinox Greens.

Once, they'd been hectares of lush forests, bold peaks, teeming jungles, and fertile fields; perhaps a bit much for your regular pony, but a veritable paradise for an adventurous young alicorn. Now they were grotesquely defiled because of her weakness. Because of her stupidity.

Because of him.

A pang of pain ripped through Armonia's chest. She shuddered, swallowed, resisted the urge to touch the scars. Pain kindled anger. Her horn burned. She aimed at the Heartstone, and imagined it was his ugly face.

Then, everything!

Letting loose a furious bellow, Armonia engulfed her target in lightning. Scarlet bolts sizzled over pieces of fractured crystal, gradually forcing them together. The flow of ooze became a trickle. Cracks mended. The Heartstone flickered.