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From where has this horror sprung forth to craft life into its own derisive joke? To send beloved family to face their own in battle? A horrid spectacle of distorted decaying forms lay splayed out on the battlefield. Such a distressing sight was unthinkable merely a couple of days ago. Ponyville is intact solely due to a rapidly failing magical barrier. All now know they face something much more than a mere memory. An adversary of cunning and discipline that may do anything at any moment. The only saving grace is that skies remain safe, for now. Thus far this seems to be the only real weakness this enemy has. This offers no succor to those who must remain on the ground. A massive battle will yet rage here.
Whatever the motive the true strength of this foe has yet to be unleashed, leaving all to wait in those tense moments before it all comes crashing down. Only the stalwart and heroic are left to fend off this madness. Each moment of silence adding a depth of fright worse than the sounds of ringing combat. Fighting their own dead and other fearful things has taken an inevitable toll on all present. What is worse, this enemy takes no real losses. No matter how many bodies and disturbingly appointed puppets destroyed they are still facing only their own and empty shells controlled from afar. A sickly affair. Was this all part of the plan? The ponies and all others wonder. What went wrong to bring this about?
The layers of this mystery cannot be solved here. The rulers of this land fret and think to themselves, did we blunder? Did we somewhere and in some manner bring this on ourselves? What could we have missed? An event so large must have had some terrible precursor to bring it about. The soldiers look around, imagining the carnage about to descend upon the poor town and themselves. This is not an honorable battle. There is no glory to be had. Survival is the only order today. The darkened sky does not bode well. The two siblings have talked up their guards to the best of their ability. Some only minorly injured have opted to stay in the fight. The injuries sustained by others were severe, despite best efforts many died today.
This is not the Equestria they knew and loved. Astounding power has been brought to bear against the very light itself. To do this someone must be very angry. Bathed in a depth of hatred unchecked and unheard of. Not even the legends of old speak to such boundless anger. Whatever precipitated this must have been truly horrific. Some nightmare left undreamed now stalking the waking world to consume its innocence. In the dark heartbeats rise as the moment draws closer. Out there in the dimness, they are being watched by someone with murderous intent and blood on the mind. Each prepares in their own way to square off with whatever lies ahead. Feeling doom descending gives fright to all.
Corruption incarnate strides towards them. Such is the feeling surrounding this once small village. Now a town on the edge of becoming a bustling city. All of it may be washed away in the approaching conflict. Everyone has been told that when it comes to warfare a running urban battle is the worst of all possible worlds. It cannot be avoided. Holding a line against such an enemy is impossible. The brave and the weary stand ready. Each imagining the terrible things to come, and all realizing they have no idea. What will really happen now? Their opponents have no demands and no words to proffer. Only silence. A swift and violent end if one is careless. Too many already lay slain and out of reach. Cut down where they lie.
The feeling of wrong about this is demeaning. Not even being able to gather up their dead is painful. These quiet moments punctuated by the occasional horrible loud popping and crackling as the barrier is assaulted made all that much more hurtful each time it lights up the world surrounding. One mixed group of solar guardsponies along with some hippogriffs and several yaks mounted a defense of retreating units worthy of legend on its own. Their bodies in the flickering light can be seen strewn about just outside the barrier. Some of them almost close enough to touch. They all fought a brilliant fallback action at great cost and now all lay still together, having saved countless others selflessly.
Each and every one went down hard. Their actions inspiring those who witnessed it. Not even the combined might of the two alicorns could protect everyone. There is little time to mourn the fallen. Already in the distance and darkness the array of deathly creations have once more begun to move. They must know the vast barrier is about to collapse. This time something else walks forth. An odd figure. One out of paintings and pictures most disturbing. One of the four has at last joined the fight. Adorned with a gold broach on the front of its black hooded cloak. It approaches. An ancient rusted wheat scythe strapped to its side. Unlike the rest, the stride is much smoother. A faster gait. It brings cold with it.
The same feeling of cold and ill that overtook the castle. Even from this distance it can be felt. Not the cold of winter or sea. A grasping cold suggesting emptiness and despair. Its approach chills bodies and minds. That flowing cloak aflutter though there is no wind to move it. It carries itself with outstretched white wings tipped in black. Color and light almost appear to fade into this new apparition. A faceless harbinger of sorrow trotting straight towards Ponyville. The pervasive chill leaving everyone pensive and distraught. The ancient scythe glinting in the dull light, it prepares to strike. In one swift smooth motion it lifts the scythe aloft and swings. These three alicorns prepare to face a reaper.
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Reaper come calling, you'd best give it your all. Stumbling steps and then you will fall. Seek for me never, keep oneself true. Should I raise my scythe it is the end for you.