Rarity slumped out of her warm bed, feeling like her bones had been pounded into dust. What time was it? She couldn’t tell. The sun wasn’t directly visible, so she couldn’t even guess. It could be late in the morning, or—heaven forbid—the afternoon! A lady sleeping through an entire morning! Such indolence!
Bleary-eyed and yawning, she stretched as much as she could take. Oh, she needed that. She must have done something extraordinarily strenuous for her body to punish her so. That’s it, she resolved. She’d start exercising regularly—anything to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.
Her bedroom was filthy, too. Dust was everywhere, absolutely everywhere. A pervasive coat of dingy gray dulled the grandeur of her room like mud on a diamond.
“Am I losing my eye for detail?” she muttered to herself. As she blew careful breaths over a lampshade, dust fell off, first in clouds, then in lumpy chunks of lint. “I should have noticed all this before it became so dreadful.”
But cleaning had to wait. Rarity was stiff and needed to stretch even more. A particularly stubborn knot was stuck in one of her legs, which she found herself massaging. It loosened, and Rarity closed her eyes as ecstatic relief flowed through her. Yes, yes, she was in relatively good condition now, and she was ready for a day of cleaning. Inchoate designs oozed from her subconscious, but it would not do to try and create in such conditions. She was also ravenous, for whatever reason, but it would not even do to eat in such conditions.
Downstairs, Rarity went to gather cleaning supplies. But something caught her eye through the window—or, rather, a conspicuous absence.
The houses across the street were gone, reduced to rubble and splinters.
Rarity looked around, seeing nothing in better shape than a few lone half-buildings wobbling over the debris. Some of the ruin was choked by weeds, tendrils of the meadow reclaiming ground long denied. The sky was lathered with clouds, deep as the detritus on the ground and just as haphazard. The trees were still, and the wind did not blow.
A splinter poked at Rarity’s hooves, which she unceremoniously plucked out with a wince. She stepped onto the street, preparing to look for signs of life. Cavernous potholes, dug by the feral elements, pocked the road, some half-full with debris. This part of town was the wrong place for to look for survivors, Rarity realized. No, if there were any, they would be at at Sugarcube Corner, and Pinkie would be getting ready to throw them a party.
Knowing that such an impressive disaster wouldn’t stop Pinkie Pie, that Pinkie Pie would move heaven and earth to make sure her friends were fine—Rarity smiled, heading to Sugarcube Corner
The bakery was still standing, in a sense. The windows were blown out, leaving but a few jagged edges that pretended to gleam in the diffuse sunlight. The door, too, was little more than overgrown splinters on a hinge. Sugarcube Corner’s iconic cupcake sign was long gone.
Rarity stepped inside. The interior of the ruined building was, at least, recognizable as a former bakery: there was a counter over there, and a couple booths on that side, and a chair lying on its side somewhere in the corner. But it was dark, quiet, and bereft of sweets. The counter display was smashed to pieces, leaving broken glass all over the floor.
Up to the second floor, Rarity trudged, stepping deliberately to not hurt her hooves on the glass. The doors upstairs, too, had been ripped off. Rarity had forgotten which room was Pinkie Pie’s, and assumed it was the one with the faded pinkish paint. All the rooms were completely empty, and none of them showed any signs of belonging to Pinkie Pie. No balloons, no streamers, no random joyful objects.
Rarity looked out a window-hole, trying to use the elevation to get a better view of things. Ordinarily, one could see Rainbow Dash’s cloud home somewhere up in the sky, a striking fountain of liquid rainbow in the middle of the otherwise monochrome sky. But Rarity couldn’t see any trace of it through the overcast. Whether it was missing or just obscured, she couldn’t tell. If only she were a pegasus.
To the left would be Sweet Apple Acres. The farmhouse and barn sagged like Granny Smith, but stood intact, just as proud as that old matriarch ever was. Yet the fields were choked by weeds, and the orchards were stripped of apples. It was not likely to be inhabited.
Upon further inspection, even Twilight’s castle, the newest and most obdurate landmark in Ponyville, was no more! Whatever had caused this disaster, apparently, had a...particular purpose in mind. But it had clearly failed. Rarity was still around, worrying for her closest friends—that was probably not intended.
If Rarity managed to survive a disaster just by sleeping in, surely her friends, crafty and efficient as they were, had found a way to get through it intact. But their homes were gone. Where were they? Rarity could think of no better places to look than the remaining houses.
The last obvious place to look was Fluttershy’s cottage. There was a good chance she’d find all her friends there. It was sufficiently far from the rest of town, and Fluttershy would be eager to take in anypony. Rarity knew that the slight, timid pegasus was tougher than she looked, but with Fluttershy, one couldn’t help but worry.
Rarity didn’t know what horror she was expecting to see at Fluttershy’s home, but she certainly was not expecting to see Fluttershy’s cottage in one solid piece. It was a bit weathered, yes. The paint had faded into various pale shades of yellow—all equally dreadful—and the ornamental thatching was a dry, brown pile of hay. It wasn’t at all presentable. But the cottage was standing, with no gaping holes or obvious structural problems.
Yet something was off. It felt unearthly, a sepulchral silence choking the air. Rarity took a while to place it: the pitter-patter of Fluttershy’s animal friends, normally the heartbeat of the house, was absent.
The door was locked. It was no time for pleasantries, so Rarity bucked the door, which came down almost too easily. The sleep-stiffness chose that moment to reassert itself, a spasm that came and went in a flash. Rarity cringed, and nearly stumbled. But she stuck her head through the doorway.
“Hello? Fluttershy, are you in there?” she called.
The cottage, nearly as dusty as Rarity’s home, reeked of ammonia and rot. Her stomach turned. Between the smell and her pain, Rarity wanted to walk away and never come back. But she’d come all the way out here, and she wanted to at least look for her friends. If nothing else, Fluttershy’s remains…
That is the wrong thing to be thinking about, Rarity.
Upstairs was Fluttershy’s bedroom. The covers were thrown across the room, and, on the bed, laid Fluttershy. The delicate pony coughed, rolling over in her sleep. She sighed, a sweet little noise that, to Rarity, was the most beautiful sound in all of Equestria.
She was fine.
As much as Rarity wanted to embrace Fluttershy in celebration, it was a bit too boisterous of a thing to do to a sleeping Fluttershy. But Rarity just had to wake her friend up.
“Fluttershy, wake up,” Rarity whispered into Fluttershy’s ear. Fluttershy still slept.
“Wake up,” Rarity ordered to no effect.
“Please, for the love of Celestia, wake up!” Rarity nudged Fluttershy. The pegasus breathed lightly, effectively undisturbed. Even shaking Fluttershy didn’t interrupt the steady, gentle rhythm.
Rarity swept out a spot to sit in without getting dusty. Anything to distract her—not that it helped. “Oh, Fluttershy, why won’t you wake up?” she mumbled.
Fluttershy shifted and coughed again. But this time, she groaned. Her eyes opened, and Fluttershy sat up in her bed and began to stretch.
“Agh. I haven’t been this stiff in goodness knows how long.” She began to turn, twisting her neck and limbs. She turned to face Rarity, then stopped.
“Rarity? What are you doing here?”
Rarity grinned, gazing at Fluttershy’s intact form. She held herself motionless on the floor, afraid that a sudden movement would make her fall apart into a blubbering mess like some sort of sugar-glass sculpture.
Fluttershy looked at Rarity as if her friend had lost her mind. “Is...is something wrong, Rarity?”
Rarity’s composure shattered. She dove onto Fluttershy in a hug, soaking the sheets with several tears. “Fluttershy...you have no idea how worried I’ve been,” she said through sobs. “I—I’m so glad you’re alright!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because…” Rarity looked out the window. “Ponyville...isn’t...”
“Oh no! What happened? Are our friends alright? What about the animals?” Fluttershy bolted down the stairs, then started darting through the living room, checking every corner for any sign of animal life.
There were no such signs. “Angel?” Fluttershy called. “Harry? Hummingway? Mr. Mousey? Where are you? Did I oversleep and forget to feed them? Did they abandon me? Did I abandon them?” Fluttershy shuddered, breathing heavily. “Oh, please don’t leave me! Please!”
Rarity wrapped a hoof around her friend’s shoulders. “Fluttershy, you’ve done nothing wrong. You are as good a friend as any woodland creature could hope to have.”
“...y-yes?”
“It wasn’t anything you’ve done that drove away the animals. It was...something else. Almost certainly the same thing that wrecked Ponyville.”
“Did—did you say ‘wrecked’?” Fluttershy was calmer now, but not by much.
“Unfortunately, yes. As I said, the town’s in dreadful shape. I suppose you should see for yourself, if you think you can handle it.”
“Is everypony alright?”
“You and I are the only ponies I’ve seen.”
Eyes watering, Fluttershy glanced at the doorway. “I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. But I can’t put it off forever. Let’s go.”
The two ponies walked out the cottage’s gaping doorway. Rarity took a deep breath, letting it soak through her. The outdoors was a welcome change after the nasty, neglected atmosphere of the cottage. Fluttershy, too, sighed as she emptied her lungs of stale air.
On the way there, Rarity so desperately wanted to talk about little things, things that weren’t Ponyville’s demise. But what? The weather? No, the weather was clearly not good in the slightest. Any topic that came to mind seemed hollow and cagey, like an obstinate filly trying too hard not to talk about it.
It was a great relief when Fluttershy broke the silence.
“So, um, what happened?”
Rarity shook her head. “I don’t know. The damage was already done when I woke up.”
“No, what happened to Ponyville? I mean, um, what am I going to be looking at?”
“Oh! Well, most of the buildings are destroyed. Completely, I might add. A few of them are intact, which just means that a couple rafters have yet to fall over. And, as I said, there aren’t any ponies save the two of us.”
“That’s awful…” Fluttershy trailed off, looking at the ground one step ahead of her. And the pair silently trudged to the outskirts of town.
Fluttershy gasped. Rarity looked over, ready to lend a supporting shoulder, cursing fate for making her the bearer of such bad news.
“No. No, this isn’t real. This can’t be real.”
“I do hope you’re right, Fluttershy. I hope this is some cruel prank that Discord’s playing.”
“He wouldn’t dare.” Fluttershy swept her gaze over the still, shattered devastation, piles of brown splinters and gray limestone dust lying beneath the silver-white wall of clouds above, “This isn’t his style. It wasn’t his fault, so that means—oh, Celestia!” Fluttershy, her legs collapsing below her, cried.
Instinctively, Rarity knelt down to comfort her friend. But, looking at Ponyville, she found that she had no comfort to give.
Fluttershy still wasn’t happy. There was no way she could be right after such events. But even here, in the ruins of her hometown, she was beginning to feel a little better. Time really does heal all wounds, she thought. Oh, and not being so hungry helps, too.
The wild, unkempt grass at the edges of town was, as far as the ponies could tell, edible. Granted, it was a shade too bitter to be pleasant, but it had notes of citrus and was certainly better than starving. Fluttershy had eaten worse.
Rarity, apparently, had not.
“This grass,” she mumbled, swallowing. “Bleh. Fluttershy, are you sure this is fit for pony consumption?”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Don’t worry, a little bitterness won’t kill you.”
Rarity glared at the grass as if had spilled wine on a pallet of brand new dresses. “A little?”
“It’s better than being a lot hungry, wouldn’t you think?”
“Just barely. ” Rarity reached down to graze on another tuft, cringing in advance. “I can see why ponies of olden times never had weight problems.”
Fluttershy watched Rarity bite, make a token effort to chew, and swallow the grass whole. “Rarity, please don’t forget to chew thoroughly before eating.”
“Fluttershy, dear, you aren’t my mother.”
The pegasus giggled. “I know, but you’re going to regret it when it comes out the other end…”
“Fluttershy!” Rarity looked at Fluttershy as if she’d deliberately spilled wine on a new dress. “A lady mustn’t discuss such...business! It’s uncivilized—and so is grazing like a vagabond, for that matter!”
Fluttershy looked back at Ponyville. “Well, aren’t we…?”
Rarity, too, sighed. “I suppose we are.” She frowned. “That doesn’t mean we have to like it.” She returned to her grazing, less displeased but still not eager.
Fluttershy, on the other hand, looked to the clouds. “Rarity?”
“Yes?”
“You said you never found Rainbow Dash’s cloud home, right?”
“I couldn’t, no. Granted, it might be on the other side of the clouds, but I can’t exactly just fly up and check on her.”
“Would you like me to?”
Rarity nodded. “By all means.”
Fluttershy lifted off. Ordinarily, she didn’t like flying at cloud level, but she’d been stretching her wings ever since she’d woken up, strangely eager to lift herself off the ground. Of course, the idea that she might find Rainbow Dash encouraged her.
She breached the cloud formation, as if coming up for air. The sunlight, bright and direct, would take some time to adjust to. Fluttershy winced, squinting to block out the glare. A few cirrus clouds drifted above her, mere wisps compared to the field of nimbus below.
Fluttershy looked around, flying in a circle. The slightest hint of rainbow would stick out. Yet there was only white and blue as far as she could see. Nor was Rainbow Dash’s house anywhere above the overcast. No, Rainbow Dash, like all the others, was gone from Ponyville.
Canterlot Mountain pierced the horizon. The dark purple stone stood tall, caring nothing about Ponyville’s misfortune. Yet the mountain was not unaltered. The spires of the castle were wiped away, along with, as far as Fluttershy could tell, the city of Canterlot itself. In its place were a few watchtowers, gray as dead mud, overlooking a few squat, blocky buildings.
Fluttershy dropped like a stone; it was now her turn to bear bad news. Rarity was looking to the sky, waiting for Fluttershy to return.
“Did you see her?”
“No.” Fluttershy shook her head. “I didn’t see her house, either.”
“Ah.” Rarity turned her head to the ground. “That’s what I feared.”
“But there’s...something else missing.”
“Oh?”
Fluttershy took a breath. “When I was up there—Canterlot’s gone too. The castle, the city—everything.”
Rarity said nothing for a bit, then looked up, in the direction of the road to Canterlot. “Shall we investigate?”
“Um...I don’t see why not.”
“Yes, it isn’t as if there’s anything for us to do in Ponyville. Besides, it won’t do to wallow in misfortune forever, don’t you think?”
Fluttershy nodded.
“Then let’s go.” Rarity walked ahead.
“Now?”
Rarity replied without looking back. “Yes, now.”
They set off down the road, not bringing anything and not looking back.