Two days ago, the Changelings returned. The history books will call it the "Second War," but it was just a slaughter. The monsters swept through Equestria, ravaging mountain and vale almost indiscriminately. They would've killed us all, but for her sacrifice. Her loyalty. As the saying goes, "stone walls do not a prison make," but my mind is becoming one.

It's becoming a prison of glass and fire, a colorless prism, splitting my shining tears into a rainbow of sorrow.

--Completed for the time being. Regard it as a one-shot (although if I have time, I'll see about writing more)