The screen is pitch-black.

Frost’s voice echoes, “You hear talk about it from time to time, how so many of us Wastelanders yearn for the better days of old.

“But you don’t truly miss something until you’ve had it taken from you.”

(Trailer music begins, the sole noise broken only by the words of the storyteller. There are no other sounds in the trailer.)

“I was there- there when the world...”

The camera pans over the shimmering lights of Manehattan as they light up the night, reflected in the sparkling waters of the harbor. Ponies, zebras, buffalo, donkeys, mules, griffins, and even the occasional diamond dog mill about the streets with smiles on their faces, reveling in the nightlife, whooping and laughing soundlessly amidst Lights and Legends...

“... and all of its people...”

The scene shifts to the base of one of the towers of the griffin capital of Avalon, where tourist ponies and zebras filed into the grand entrance flanked by statues of griffin Sky Archons. The camera pans upward, picking up speed as it shoots into the clouds past the skyline rails and freighters, past the airships and whooshing past a griffin, up into a city Reaching Forever Higher, shooting miles and miles into the sky- and miles more...

Then it shifts to panning over the rolling cityscape of Roam, the zebra capital, with its patchwork tapestry of varied architecture ranging from the Western to the Oriental, the smooth to the jagged, the colorful to the subdued. Zebras and the occasional pony and griffin tourist mill through the narrow corridors that formed the city streets, each with somewhere to go, something to do. The camera passes the Bazaar in the center of the city, the sole place where everything and everyone came together in a city of Seven Tribes on the Seven Hills to hawk and balk, barter and falter over wares...

“... were so beautiful...”

Images of people flash by, moving in slow motion:

A big zebra buck with a short Mohawk and a leather jacket, leaning against a Hardly-Mason motorcycle, opening his muzzle in a hearty laugh.

A green pegasus mare with a long mane and tail of a darker shade drawing her bow across a violin with her eyes shut tight, lips creased in passion.

A distinguished white earth pony stallion in scaled armor and a wrinkly green earth pony mare brewing sake, smiling proudly amidst a sea of ponies during the Northern Lights Festival.

A unicorn mare with a midnight-black coat and a silvery, curly mane and tail obscured in shadow but bathing softly in the pulsing, multicolored lights of a nightclub.

“... so colorful.”

Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack hug around Rainbow Dash tightly, eyes shut tight and faces beaming as they fall into giggles.

“I had only just found my Way in life...”

A younger Frost with fur of verdant green and a fedora atop his head chatters excitedly with a griffiness as she guides him past the air columns of Avalon.

Frost watches and widens his eyes and nods in understanding as an Almarinian earth pony Clockwork technician open up a brass apparatus, steam puffing from the vents beneath it.

“... and the love of my life.”

Frost sprouts an ice arm to help pull the midnight-furred, silvery-maned unicorn up a bannister and waves a hoof to display the view of Manehattan from atop the Pony of Friendship. He grins proudly as her expression brightens in awe.

Now they sit together, before the Wall of Faces, expressions somber as they leaned against one another for support, bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight.

“I was only starting to delve into the many wonders and mysteries of our world.”

Frost and the midnight mare watch as a zebra mare at the Bazaar draws upon the wispy essence of a bone charm and transmutes it into his balisong.

And now Frost inspects a stone slab inscribed with a slew of symbols along with a chipper mule johnny, who scratches his head in confusion as he draws a hoof across the slab.

Fade to black.

“And I was there, too, when the world...”

Another slow motion camera pan. All further images are tilted at a harsh angle, the field-of-view narrowing. Delegates at the United Nations General Assembly are in an uproar. Some are frantically trying to appease one another. Others are protesting, pointing and shifting blame to others. Still more are denouncing others with furious expressions. The Secretary General barges in with a bewildered expression.

“... and all of its people...”

Manehattan again, but now there are no smiles, there is no laughter. Ponies and zebras walk by separately, glancing worriedly or suspiciously at the other party.

“... lost that beauty...”

A mob of furious ponies tug a zebra mare up a scaffold with a noose around her neck as she protests, eyes wide and full of fear. A zebra stallion surges against the tide of bodies as they reach out and tug his forelegs back. His mouth is curved in a defiant cry, his cheeks glistening with so many trails, so many tears.

The same distinguished white stallion and the wrinkled mare support one another amidst a sea of ponies fleeing away or aiding the wounded, smoke in the air, flames dotting the ground.

“... lost that color.”

The camera pans across the great city of Stalliongrad, factory-gray and growing grayer with plumes of smoke clogging up the sky. The shot moves past the insides of a factory where ponies, donkeys, mules, and a buffalo keep the Kalashneighkov assault rifles rolling down the production line, a unicorn lifting one of them to inspect the fruit of their sweat and tears, their Blood and Iron.

“I turned onto the warpath...”

An older Frost with specks of gray dotting his mane stands attention in uniform, eyes without feeling, without life.

Frost is facing away from the camera, now in armor. A scoped rifle rests in his ice arms with smoke and light puffing from the barrel. The foreground goes out of focus and the background into- a zebra operating a machine gun jerks backward with a puff of red coming from his chest.

“... and kept walking.”

Nighttime. He has a torn, gray cloak wrapped around his armor now, poised to strike a zebra sentry with a trench spike with a burly, ebony mare with a brilliant white mane doing the same to another in the background.

“I found the darkness buried deep in all our hearts...”

A zebra stands impassively in focus over Frost with a scalpel in hoof, flecks of blood matting his uniform. Frost himself is out of focus- but his bloody, screaming face is reflected in the zebra’s spectacles.

“... and I embraced it as well.”

Frost, still out of focus, scrapes away the flesh and muscle of a bound zebra, eyes shut tight, teeth ground and cracked, mouth frothing.

“So when you tell me you miss those better days of old...”

A faded, yellowed shot of Frost as an unruly, frowning colt.

“... when you say you know what it was like through books or pictures or memory orbs...”

A slightly grayed shot of Frost smiling proudly with an ice arm tucking his fedora down.

“... when you think you have it all down...”

Only a slight haze surrounds Frost in his military uniform and buzz cut and his stoic frown.

“... when you say you know the story by heart...”

(Trailer music cuts.)

The verdant-green Frost abruptly changes to an ash-gray unicorn dracopony in full Lunar Guard armor, eyes gleaming dangerously, darkly. Save for the zebra-like slant to his eyes and his sharp muzzle, he is completely unrecognizable. The shot is in full focus.

Fade to black.

“... you know nothing.”

(Trailer music resumes.)

The present-day Frost, necrotic and covered in magical bandages, sits back in his wheelchair and sighs a chilly mist from his nostrils. “But that’s why I’m here.”