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The ancient robotic looking pony shaped constructs stood in their cubicles inactive and uncalled for. A great many years having passed since their construction. Each had been placed in its station within the great and vast underground complex awaiting orders that had for whatever reason never come in endless decades, left to dust and darkness. Nothing ever happened here save for a single green light atop a nearby terminal that seemed to pointlessly flicker off and on for an incalculable eternity. The closest heavily armored auton stood at attention as it always had, eyes cold and dark as the pitch around it, lifeless. Were one to venture into this forgotten depth it would be revealed to be utterly massive.
Practically an entire world unto itself hidden beneath, wreathed in steel and stone. All this once had a purpose. A Sheer twenty stories beneath the mountains surface it waited in the cold silence, unlamented and long out of any living memory. The builders had gone far beyond the original intention at their leaders request. There it stood towering above all else. Something great and tall and shiny, once gleaming in quiet testament to its builders craftsmanship. The great glistening hull and bulk of its entirety covered in all manner of golden runes amidst crisscrossing patterns of intricate detail so fine even at such scale none could ever hope to take it all in. It stood there on its huge pedestal, silent as the empty night.
It awaited a call now likely to never come. The enormous mechanisms anchoring it lay dormant as all else in this vast and quiet metal tomb. The years piled one on into another as the seeming statues stared silently into the abyssal darkness around them, never a single sound to be heard or motion to be detected nor hinted at. One might imagine nothing living had ever trod here, utterly dead as it was with only the mere ghosts of that which was long past to keep it company. In silence stood these sentinels eternal. It could be envisioned they too had never moved from their posts, rigid and lifeless husks forever poised to react at a moments notice to some unseen menace.
Empty halls echoed only the eternity of silence and dust inflicted upon the great subterranean depths where no light had shone in countless ages. Quietly awaiting the day when someone, anyone, would dare entreat the long darkened halls to give up their long-held secrets. All the stables were intended to last but not for the purposes originally set out. The grim dark eternity that had settled on this place far from sight and mind brought on by the end of the war had left it neglected, barren of life and forgotten. Like so many other things it lay empty and ill against the destruction of the outside world. A mere backdrop of misfortune and pain. Just another drop in an ocean of sadness.
All the good intentions in the world had lead to strife, upheaval and a nearly inevitable outcome. The world itself had ended long ago with what few survivors left clinging to life by ragged tatters. That anything at all had survived was testament to the will to live, to flourish and push back against the all-enveloping darkness. Nothing living walked these dreary halls. The austere living quarters and kitchen sat empty. Nary a pony seemed to have ever so much as touched a single thing in this quandary of a place. Far above, in the shattered world beyond the main door, a gentle breeze stirred many hundreds of miles away. It picked up to a slow pace as it stirred, springing to life in whatever way such things begin.
It rolled across the endless wastes as aimless as wind may be. None envision or imagine where something so small begins its journey, the landscapes and monuments and things long buried it may pass on its way. Slowly the wind set out across the wastes of what had once been a bright and happy world, a world that slowly spiraled ever more out of control towards its doom. Somewhere there was a small desolate farm. A little filly just coming of age looked on in horror as her parents fell defending her against a mob of raiders. The wind passed by this scene of terror and pain uncaring. The wind does not care, it can bring sadness and cold, or warmth and happy feelings.
On it went, spanning the empty miles of devastation on no particular path. Many more miles onwards in its sluggish travels the wind blew by a sobbing unicorn sitting in charred power armor. The wind just is. It has no feelings, no attitude whether it brings hurt or not. It simply goes on. The great main doors of this particular stable were covered by rubble and debris, designed to look as part of the mountain itself. None would simply guess there to be any entrances to it at all. Should any living thing ever happen to look upon it only rocks would be seen. The wind continued its long randomly winding journey across the suffering landscape, the hills and mountains, dales and valleys of a once beautiful country.
Something kept it going, but what, who could say? At one time the pegasus race had heralded all patterns of weather. The rain, the snow and wind had been their domain alone. No more. The slow bitter wind rolled across the mountains surface, softly crossing in the same random way it had begun. As it passed the gentle breeze dislodged the smallest of pebbles from its perch above the slope, it rolled down the mountainside gaining momentum to land squarely against a small hidden door. It hissed open ominously. The wind has no feelings, it does not care what it heralds in its random journeys, of the joy, pain or suffering it brings.
The soft breeze blew into the now open door and ended as subtly as it began.
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A chill wind bearing ill, mayhaps.