When the time comes for the sun to come down, the giant ball of fire looks as if it's going to explode into multiple rays of beautiful light and dazzling colours among the oncoming darkness from the other side of the dark-blue sky that sweeps over the huge wastelands below. At this time, the sun's temperature is not so warm and a sudden wave of cool air comes in to replace it, sending chills over any traveller's skin and cooling them down from when they were walking in the boiling hot desert. It was, however, not all too horrible to be in that part of the desert; there were pools of water surrounded by a collection of trees, covering the water from the heat of the sun. Animals would go over and relax, drink, bathe or play in the water and the cool shade that the trees provided, as well as the odd traveller who would be crossing the desert on an epic trek from one village to another.
Very little evidence of the desert, which was outside of the land of Equestria, remained of having creatures all great and small crossing from one place to another. The prints of animals and other exotic creatures would appear from its owner and then remain until the wind would blow sand over them, covering up the depth of the print. Nothing would remain in the desert, for nothing could stay alive out alone, without the protection from the pools of water and the plantation around them. Many of these would appear in a row, which at first may seem a little weird, but they would eventually make it to a tiny little village that seemed out of place in the desert, except for the pebbled path that traveled out of the town for about a mile, before disappearing in the desert for good. Bones, fossils and anything that belonged to deceased creatures would be blown away or covered by the bright yellow sand. They would all become a thing of the past; a moment in history, frozen in place and forever forgotten.
One of the villages which stood in the desert was one of the greenest in all of the wastelands that surrounded it. As soon as you walked past its borders, the yellow sand would be replaced by a strong dark green and multiple rays of colours and beautiful patterns, made of different shapes and sizes. Most of these spectacular colours would come from the flowers and strange plants that could never grow inside of Equestria and had to be treated and cared for very carefully in order not for them to die out in the boiling heat. Despite it being warm though, the shade from the trees and the cool atmosphere around the bathing pools was enough to keep the citizens cool enough to live without worry or concern. The plants and trees that grew in the village covered the houses, cottages and other pony-made buildings, so each citizen who lived there was cool and warm enough at the same time.
Today was a Saturday and all the mothers and their colts and foals were either at home or playing in the fields of the village, knowing that they had no homework until Monday when school was starting again. It was also the summer, so the holidays were also coming very soon and all the children of the village would be out of school and go off to other villages, amusement parks, holiday destinations and the very rich colts and fillies would be travelling with their families all the way to Equestria itself and visiting the different places that were part of the Equestrian Kingdom. Princess Celestia, as usually, would also be on break from all her royal duties, making her time off the throne a national holiday for the citizens of the land. Yet, those who weren't living in Equestria didn't necessarily have a ruler, apart from the growing political group better known as the Storm Armada, which was taking over tiny sections of the outside border of Equestria. However, the village wasn't under the power of the Armada, thankfully, so it remained to have its own independent rules and laws. It was an independent village, with no one ruling over it, apart from the few leaders that discussed its laws and events that were running there.
Eleanor Berrytwist was sitting in a rocking chair whilst sowing and watching the village going about their daily business. Mrs Berrytwist was like any other unicorn; reddish-pink fur, mane tied up in a bun, a white shirt with a pearl neckless and a red sun hat on top of her head. On her nose rested a pair of sunglasses, which sloped at a precise angle, so that she could still concentrate on her sowing. It was something that kept herself happy enough to block herself from the outside world around her, muting any noise or sound that past through her pointed ears, which poked out from the side of the sunhat and held the ends of the sunglasses from falling off her face and into her lap. She continued sowing, whilst occasionally watching in secret the teenage fillies and colts who would pass her house and almost shout at the top of their voices about what had happened recently that only teenagers would find fascinating. It didn't interfere with Eleanor, however, as she was in her element and there was nothing on the planet that could disturb her peace.
"Mummy! Mummy! I can't find my travelling trunk anywhere!"
Well, there could be one exception.
Eleanor turned around and saw a seven-year-old crimson filly unicorn in a white dress and a pink bow in her mane and tail. She ran out from the front door of the cottage that she, her mother and father lived in, and galloped over to Eleanor's rocking chair.
"My, my! Whatever's the matter, Fizzlepop? Can't your papa help you instead?"
Mrs Berrytwist knew her daughter very well like the back of her hoof. Whenever there was a problem, Fizzlepop would always go to her, as her excuse would always be:
"Papa is busy in the workshop. He can't help to look for it; it has to be you!"
Knowing that there was no point in arguing back against her daughter, Mrs Berrytwist got up and went over to Fizzlepop, nuzzling her before heading back into the cottage. When inside, Mrs Berrytwist took off her sunglasses and placed them using her magic to the side where she could grab them again, before following her daughter around the cottage.
"So, you can't find your trunk then, dear? Well, perhaps we can have a look around the house."
Even though she really didn't want to do this, Mrs Berrytwist simply smiled and continued looking around. Using her magic, the unicorn mare looked underneath cupboards, chairs, tables and other items that could be hiding the identity of Fizzlepop's trunk. Lifting blankets, bed sheets and mountains of clothes, Mrs Berrytwist tried her hardest to stay as positive as she could to let her daughter know that she knew what she was doing. Except, she really didn't know where the trunk could be, as she had looked in the most obvious places in the cottage, such as underneath Fizzlepop's bed or in Mr Berrytwist's garage. Despite its size, it felt as if they were searching for something small.
Eventually, though, Mrs Berrytwist spotted the trunk underneath a pile of large, dusty blankets that had clearly not been washed for quite some time and were filled with multiple holes and loose ends of thread poking out from the points of each of the blankets. Using her magic, Mrs Berrytwist bashed out the dust and dirt, before sweeping it outdoors using a dustpan and brush. Afterwards, she pulled Fizzlepop's trunk out and placed it in front of her daughter, who immediately gasped with joy and happiness.
"Thank you, mummy, thank you!" Fizzlepop cried, "You found it! What was it doing there, exactly?"
Mrs Berrytwist put a hoof to her chin and looked up in thought as she always did when Fizzlepop asked her a question that involved a lot of thinking to do. However, there could only be one reason why Fizzlepop's trunk wasn't in its correct resting place and that the only reason would have been caused by none other than her own husband. Probably moved when he was looking for one of his tools that were hidden somewhere in the cottage, or chucked in a large box or bin outside ready for the bin collectors to take it away. However, the reason overall was Mr Berrytwist himself.
"I'm sure your father put it there and just forgot to pick it up," Mrs Berrytwist explained, "he's always been doing that; collecting items that he tends to borrow from other ponies and then forgets to give them back or place them in where they should be. He's like a collector or a thief who doesn't think he's actually stealing anything from anypony. Your father is a strange stallion, Fizzlepop, but yet it was enough to make me fall in love with him."
Fizzlepop, who was quite young at that time, struggled to understand what her mother was on about. She knew it was "grown-up talk" and that fillies her age couldn't understand a word of it. It was the sort of conversation that she knew she wasn't allowed to get involved in. There were lots of things that her parents had restricted her on, such as when she needed to go to bed, when she needed to do her homework and when she needed to brush her mane. The borders that her parents had placed upon her made the curiosity of hers get the better of Fizzlepop sometimes and she would always wonder how much she would get away from her parents' backs. Despite being raised quite well, there was always time for a filly to get up to mischief sometimes and that mischief would in be more troublesome whenever it involved other colts and fillies. That would be more interesting to do rather than listen to a bunch of mares and stallions talk non-stop for hours on end, usually about chocolates, wine and bunches of flowers that they buy weekly at the village market.
Market Day. Oh boy, that was the day Fizzlepop would usually find the busiest and probably the worst time of the week. The large stalls portrayed seas of colours and patterns that would match the body colour of the stalls, usually being yellow or green with painted flowers potted around the woodwork. These flowers would also attract large butterflies, bees and other strange creatures that would often tend to scare Fizzlepop, for some reason, who really didn't like tiny insects who would fly around her face and disturb her from what she was doing. She remembered the time when she was about four or five years old and a fly went up one of her nostrils, causing her to sneeze so loudly that she made the whole market fall to silence. Fizzlepop regarded it as the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her, but yet, also perhaps the funniest. Market Day could perhaps be one of her favourite events in her village. After all, it would be the only time that year that she would meet ponies who had stepped out of the village or who weren't locals and came from lands beyond the wastelands; including Equestria. But realistically, though, that would never happen to her, now would it?
"You know when Market Day is, do you?" her mother then said, as if she could read Fizzlepop's mind. Fizzlepop suddenly came out of thought and looked up directly back to the mare who was standing right over her, but not in a menacing way. Trying to lighten the situation, Fizzlepop laughed nervously, but yet quietly, so that it didn't seem as if she was doing it on purpose.
"Of course, mummy," she replied, "of course I know when it is. It's Saturday, isn't it?"
There was a brief silence, which felt longer than it should have been for Fizzlepop. It was like sound had stopped and didn't want to move again, as if time had frozen in place and was holding onto it companion like a fishing hook buried into the flesh of a salmon trying to swim away. However, it was the silence that could be heard and felt; it sounded like there was an empty room and you could almost hear the air itself and you could feel it crawl up your back like an insect and wrap its six legs across your chest and squeeze the breath inside your lungs out of you. The silence also made Fizzlepop blind. She trotted back slightly and turned to face the open window behind her, which revealed the ginormous red-orange sun that shined rays of light and colour all over the village and into the eyes of Fizzlepop, making her blink at the brightness of the light and then replacing that light with beautiful colours of light green and purple. It was a charming pain; it wasn't like getting something solid in your eyes and you had to pick it out, but instead it was a pain that went through your eyes, into your skull and into your mind, making you feel tired, peaceful and proud to be standing in the light of the sunset of that particular evening.
"That's right, dear. You and I will be going there on Saturday to buy some flowers for the dinner table. Do you remember?"
Fizzlepop snapped out from her vision and returned to reality again, focusing her eyes back on her mother's beautiful face and look deeply into those stunning pair of eyes and saw the reflection of the sunlight reflect off of them as if it was bouncing off a mirror. It was like dreaming, but only awake and experiencing it in a way that could never be felt in a dream whilst sleeping.
"I remember," Fizzlepop eventually replied back, "I have written it in my diary somewhere."
But Fizzlepop really didn't listen to the question properly and replied in a quiet voice, which her mother struggled to hear, so she had to repeat herself back.
"I have written it in my diary, mummy."
Mrs Berrytwist brought Fizzlepop into a hug slowly just after her daughter had finished talking. It was a hug that told Fizzlepop that her mother would never give up on her, even if she had to wait for years and years for a miracle to happen.
"I'm so proud of you, Fizzlepop. Remember, dear; you are the greatest and most talented unicorn to have ever lived. You are a loyal, powerful, full of talent and most wise unicorn. You remember in your teacher's class when they said that motto?"
Fizzlepop looked back up at her mother, trying to remember what she was told for the past few days by her teacher in class.
"Unicorns forever?"
Mrs Berrytwist nodded back clearly, to let her daughter know that she had guessed correctly.
"Unicorns forever."
Gasp!
The cold air stunned Tempest Shadow's throat like a viper's bite going into her crimson skin, which made her jump up from lying on her bed. The bed sheets flew into the air, before landing back on her chest and over her back legs. The shock came to her so quickly that Tempest just remained sitting up and looking into the darkness in front of her, seeing the black and ink colour that seemed to go on for infinity and having no sign of stopping and showing any light or life. It was like being in a room full of no living creatures, but also having nothing lying dead next, behind or in front of Tempest. The toxic feeling of being alone and scared was what she could only feel in her veins and have nothing to see what could be staring back at her made the fur on Tempest's back stand on its ends. Fear was an understatement; Tempest wasn't scared of little monsters hiding underneath her bed like she used to when she was a little filly but was instead scared of the memories of her fillyhood past.
They were almost toxic to Tempest, the memories of her home and never leaving it until the day she departed for the first and very last time, not thinking to herself of when she would ever come back to see her family again. However, remembering that she hadn't been there in the last fourteen years, Tempest wondered if the village was still there or if her parents were still alive. Sure, her friends probably were, but after what happened last time, would they ever forgive her for something that happened such a long time ago? It felt as if they would never do so in a thousand years after what happened. After the Ursa attack, Tempest felt that she couldn't have any more friends, in case she got them hurt, killed or twisted in ways that are so unforgiving and tormenting. To live a normal life with a dark cloud following her every hoofsteps would be impossible for Tempest; every hoof step would cause horror and sadness to those who were around her, including none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle and Tempest's oldest current friend, Grubber. They were, probably, the very few creatures who would ever accept her hoof in friendship and would lead her into a world of colour, life and peace, instead of casting her out into the shadows again like what the Storm King did many years ago.
Once a very long time ago.