Balance is the vital element to keeping peace. Without balance, there is no control, only greed. Without balance, there are no morals, only sin. Without balance, there is no good, only evil. The ponies of old did not understand this. They fought until the land bloodied with their own kin’s blood. Ponykind threw away what made them creatures of balance. Love, friendship, bonds…all weakness. They hardened their hearts to the world, and the world, in turn, shunned them. Magic throughout the land began to cease. The ponies quickly gathered what was left and, once they had enough for themselves, they took from those who they felt did not deserve it. They horded it in their forts and bunkers, threatening all who would oppose them.
In the end, the magic tainted, no longer able to maintain balance. Little by little, as ponykind used up the magic reserves fighting each other, their minds became tainted with greed and power. The magic itself began to seep into the lands. No trees or flowers grew. Animals mutated into abominations. Crops withered and died. Then, ponies died.
The survivors quickly built shelters and took refuge in the ground. They vowed to never return to the surface.
Too bad their ancestors would not follow in their footsteps.
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More Most Dangerous Game Entry. Please provide constructive criticism. It has been a good long time since I have written a longer piece, so the pacing might be a little off. This is a story based on this prompt:
-"In an Equestria devastated by an apocalyptic war, the few that remain try their best to survive or rebuild--however they can."