The rain was soft, gentle. Soothing and cool after the flames, and the heat.
Almost perfectly matching the tears of Zehara, who softly wept over Dark’s corpse, the last song complete.
“…We wish to thank thee.” Luna quietly told the crying zebra.
“…Why?” Zehara asked, her voice strained.
“We have not seen him smile in the many years of his service.” Luna told her, Zehara looking up to her. “Not until this night were the weights on his heart lessoned, and we know it to be thee that did so. For that, we thank thee… and thank thee again, for singing him to rest with the song meant only for fallen zebra.”
“…There is none who could deserve it more.” Zehara whispered, looking upwards, at the rain. “He gave his life… for his goddess. And now, my own reminds me of her.”
“…G, p, princess, I beg of you.” Zehra said, lowering her head to Luna. “This rain… does the Deharan seek to sooth our pain, or are the waters satisfied, now that I have no reason to leave them?” she asked.
Luna didn’t answer for a moment, looking up into the rain. Then she said, “As you weep, so do they. This rain is a promise to you that they will listen now:”
“The blood of your heart is a gift they never wanted.”
Zehara nodded, her eyes shut, slowly breathing. “…I, I ask that I be allowed to bury him here, in these green grasses by the Deharan.” Luna hesitated, and Zehara told her, “So that the water ensures he never burns again; of all here, none are more deserving their comfort.”
“No other faced the flames without flinching.”
Luna didn’t answer for a moment, Zehara looking up at her. Then she said, “Very well. Lay him to rest here, but we ask that he not be forgotten.”
“He, and you, will never be forgotten.” Zehara promised. “As the sky is reflected in the waters, I will never forget, and every Zebra that comes here will know of the time when the night came to save us all from the fire. The zebra, and these waters, will remember.”
Luna nodded, shutting her eyes. A single tear grew and then fell, sparkling, to land softly on Dark.
Once the dead were buried, Dark buried closest to the waters, Luna and the guard left; Dark their only casualty, and only a few injured, lightly at that.
Ten lions had perished, three fleeing.
Thirty zebra had died in the defense and flames. Sixty more had injuries, almost all burns. The one thrown at Luna survived.
A few weeks after, and dark flowers began to bloom around the Deharan from Dark’s grave. They soon spread, and Zehara encouraged them to do so, naming them Dark Moon flowers, in the memory of Dark, and his lunar goddess.
Zehara remained at the Deharan for the rest of her life. When she asked, the rain would come, without fail, and the savanna knew a time when water was not so rare during her life. After her death, those that followed found that the Deharan would listen to them as well.
So long as they remembered to gift a basket of Dark Moon flowers on the anniversary of Dark’s Death, and Zehara’s own.
Sion brought back Casca’s flame to the dens. With it, he told her tale to the rest, and the fifth son became something new amongst lions.
He became known as fire-speaker, a figure equal to, but distinct, from pride leader. Ensuring her memory would never be forgotten, and gifting her flames to those who proved their dedication to her, and her fire. New ways, new traditions, and a new age began amongst lions:
Lions dared the hyena, and cut their way through the laughing wastes to find their way beyond, to the mythic lands Casca had told them about.
They brought back food; prey greater than any zebra. They made a trail through the laughing wastes to keep doing so. And as the largest dens that had done so no longer needed to hunt the zebra, the herds grew. And dens that had once starved found new herds as zebra grew in number in the savanna. Lions no longer hungered as they once had.
Zebra once more came to be in the land near the tall rocks.
And with them came the lions: led by the three survivors of the followers of Casca. As the zebra grew and prospered, so did they: the traitor, the offspring of disgrace, and the one with no mane.
A den born of disgrace and shame that soon found its own honor and respect.
A den that discovered how to make fire themselves.
The savanna found new life in the wake of the flames. But even as zebra and lion prospered, Equestria did not.
It would only take three years after that night before Luna was overtaken by her jealousy and anger.
And as the savannas grew, Equestria fractured, and saw one of their princesses banished; and along with her, her devoted, the batponies, who did not leave her, even into her transformation into Nightmare Moon.
They did not forget their savior.
Equestria grew to fear the night, and ponies learned what it meant to have a nightmare. The sun grew brighter in response, to keep the dark away, but the peace from before could not be found again.
And it would take a thousand years before that changed.