Fear.
Fear was the overriding emotion in the formerly blissful land of Equestria. This fear was rooted in a great many things, all of which came from a single event. The Princesses of the Sun and Moon were gone.
Many ponies theorized that the Princesses would return at any minute. But, when the sun and moon failed to change their positions from the permanent twilight that shrouded the land in an eerie half-light, a mass panic arose. Desperation took hold as everypony even began to look for the god of Chaos, Discord, in an effort to exert his power over the world's forces. It was all for naught, however, as even Chaos embodied had vacated the world, leaving the world defenseless against the inevitable death of the world by either frost or fire.
The sun would destroy the crops if it was not lowered for the land to cool, and the night would bring a slow death in the form of entropy. The balance of the world was threatened, if not entirely compromised. This fact was not lost on the ponies of Equestria, because the anarchy that arose would have caused Discord to pale in disgust and terror.
The capital city, Canterlot, was the first to succumb to the panic of the coming apocalypse. In less than a week, the once great city of gilded marble and high society was little more than a burning ruin, the crackling of the inferno punctuated by the dying screams of ponies trapped in their houses as their roofs collapsed and the foundations of their homes were obliterated. The death toll was so titanic that nopony dared to venture a guess as to how many died in the hellfire that had once been the center of their world.
More cities fell, one by one, the smaller settlements like Appleloosa and Ponyville being the last to stand. These towns were now refugee camps for the survivors of the death of their homes and civilization. The once great land of Equestria, whose population once numbered in the millions, had been reduced to a handful of camps that totaled out to a generously optimistic number closer to the hundreds. Fire, disease, starvation, or injuries had taken all but these last few ponies, who were huddled in their camps, awaiting a death by the ice of the half-lit sky.
Even the pegasi of Cloudsdale could do no more, as their control over the weather had almost instantly disappeared without the Celestial Sisters to balance the heavenly bodies. As such, the East had become a tundra of rampant blizzards and hailstorms, burying the land in snow and ice, while the West had dried up into a dustbowl, tornadoes ripping apart the last vestiges of the cities that had dotted its landscape. Within a month, the world was all but dead. Appleloosa had been forsaken by the ponies and buffalo alike. A small detachment griffins from across the Eastern sea had migrated to the land of the ponies, in an attempt to determine why their home had been allowed to die in ice. Only one had survived long enough to make her way to Ponyville.
Gilda's reception in Ponyville was far from warm. The last time she had been in the quiet little hamlet, she had stormed off in a rage after nearly terrorizing everypony in town. She hung her head low as she padded her way through the middle of town, her talons creating small divots in the dirt. A mixture of sadness, fear, and an overwhelming amount of resignation hung in the air, exacerbated by the defeated looks on everypony's face. Some ponies were starving, others looked as if they would die from some unknown ailment, a select few, however, were still well enough to render aid to those who slept in the streets.
Gilda was in no position to pity these ponies, as she was injured by her long flight from the Griffin Kingdom. Her left wing had been strained by pressing through the superstorm that hung over Manehattan. She shuddered as she recalled looking down at the frozen bodies of ponies who had died in the city's collapse. Some were even unfortunate enough to have been frozen alive, looks of terror and pain visible, courtesy of Gilda's predatory vision. The gryphoness shook her head to clear her head of the morbid images as she spotted the home of her chickhood friend, Rainbow Dash. Gilda desperately wished she could fly up to the cloud house herself, but her injured wing was still unresponsive, so she settled for going to the last place she had seen in Ponyville before leaving in her tantrum: Sugarcube Corner.
As the young griffin slowly walked to the bakery, she attempted to formulate her speech. Would she be brusque and brief, or would she plea to the sense of mercy and kindness the Equestrians were known for? She opened the door, expecting to see some remnant of the cheer that saturated the shop. Instead, she was faced with the saddest sight she had ever been witness to. The cheery atmosphere that used to grace Sugarcube Corner had been replaced by the smells and sounds of pain and death. It appeared that the bakery had been converted to a triage center, patients ranging from severely emaciated ponies who looked as if they had not been fed a decent meal in weeks to the mutilated bodies of those unfortunate enough to have lost forelegs, rear legs, or other parts of their bodies and only recently succumbed to their horrible wounds.
Though she was a carnivore, Gilda felt herself becoming sick at the sight of disemboweled ponies, missing limbs, and all around death. A familiar pink pony trotted up to Gilda, the formerly infectious smile replaced by a sorrowful, dejected look of absolute defeat. Pinkie Pie looked up at Gilda, a small spark of surprise behind her shocking blue eyes as she greeted.
"Hello, Gilda. Welcome to Sugarcube Triage. I'm sorry I can't throw you a party, but... you know..." Pinkie seemed to have to summon a great deal of willpower to even speak this much. She looked back to a dark green unicorn stallion, whose horn looked as if it had been shattered. He was taking a series of ragged breaths that made Gilda wonder if he was about to deliver a final death rattle. Pinkie returned her attention to Gilda, who was about to vomit what little food she had managed to catch before landing in Ponyville. Pinkie gestured with a hoof for Gilda to follow her back outside, for which the gryphoness was most grateful.
As the pony and griffin walked towards the town's library, Gilda finally spoke. "How many survivors are here?"
Pinkie's pink hair had fallen flat long ago, but it seemed to lose its color as the Element of Laughter responded. "Less than a hundred, and a quarter of them are nearly dead or too sick to move. The group from Appleloosa didn't make it..." Tears formed at the corners of Pinkie's eyes as she sniffled. "Most of these ponies are from Canterlot or Los Pegasus. Everypony else was too far from Ponyville, and Twilight says they died within days of their evacuations."
Gilda's heart dropped into her stomach as she realized the scale of the decimation of the world. She felt fortunate that she had not been caught in the slow, icy death of her homeland. "I heard Cloudsdale..."
"Cloudsdale is gone," Pinkie said quietly.
All semblance of hope left Gilda at that moment. The reputed oldest city in Equestria, former capital of the Pegasus Empire, was gone. At that moment, a somewhat familiar cyan pegasus landed in front of the pair.
"YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Rainbow Dash demanded loudly. Gilda cringed visibly at the hostility in her former friend's voice. It had been three years since Gilda had stormed out of Ponyville, and she hoped that any ill will had dispersed. She realized that tensions were high, as the world was coming to an end and nopony would have an immediate capacity for forgiveness.
Gilda looked her friend in the eyes before replying, tears forming rapidly as she prepared to deliver the news. "The griffins are gone, Dash. I'm the last of my kind..." Immediately, the hostility disappeared from Rainbow Dash's stance before the pegasus slowly moved towards her friend and embraced her. At this display of empathy, Gilda's self-control broke as she burst into tears, crying into Dash's shoulder loudly.
Rainbow Dash patted Gilda on the back, whispering words of comfort. Pinkie looked on sadly at the emotional breakdown before her, while Gilda let out a full two weeks of pent up fear, rage, and sorrow. The gryphoness was inconsolable, crying even after it began to ache.