Every night, in a little stable just outside of town, an old mare lays down to sleep. And every night she has the same dream of rainbows and open sky...

Scootaloo finally gets her cutie mark...it's an image of her. Then her cutie mark gets a cutie mark...of an image of her. Things quickly go downhill from there.

Applejack reached up with a fore hoof to touch the brim of her hat. It was habitual, almost unconscious. She could feel, nestled safely underneath the hat, her two most precious treasures--a single blue feather and a small snippet of purple mane.

They were precious, more precious than anything besides her family and her farm, because they were only pieces of them she'd ever have.

Reader, in ancient days, the old lords of the world numbered in thousands. Then hundreds. Then even less.
Now, they are found only in tapestries and fanciful ballads.
The creatures are all vanished. All but one.

Rumors say there are more of him, somewhere far away. A young and supposedly gifted mage called Star Swirl, and Heartstrings, a gentle spinster, have joined him on a journey to find the rest.

Featured in The Royal Guard's Fic Spotlight #5
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