Everything is too loud, too bright, too painful. You groan and crack your eyes open. You're lying on blackened ground, as if some intense heat scorched the earth under you. You slowly get to your feet and look around. You're on the outskirts of a town. You can see a few houses in the distance (well, they're more like cottages, really), and the blackened ground under your feet extends several meters in every direction. It's almost as if you were the dead center of an explosion.
You're in pain and a little disoriented, so maybe you really were in the dead center of an explosion.
Beyond the blackened ground is a greyish-green path that leads towards town.
As you get to your feet you realize there's an unfamiliar weight bumping against your chest. You touch your chest with your hand and look down, which is when you realize three things:
First and least important, you're currently wearing a t-shirt and jeans. You don't recognize these particular clothes, but you don't pay much attention to clothing. They look like clothes you'd have picked out, so you don't worry about it.
Second, you have a silver band on your wrist that you could swear you've never seen before. At the same time, it feels oddly familiar.
Third, there is a hard cold lump of something gently bouncing off your chest as you try to steady yourself. Reaching into your shirt you pull out a pendant that consists of a brilliant red stone in a thin silver setting.
"Well," you say out loud. "What the fuck?"
You try to recall your most recent memory. Anything that would explain what you're doing here or why.
Nothing. A blank. You know your name-
Suddenly you experience a splitting pain in your head. The headache was moderately tolerable before, but now it feels like a giant nutcracker is squeezing your head. You collapse on the ground from the pain and almost pass out as a memory forces itself upon you: an old man telling you something vitally important.
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"No matter what you do or where you go," the old man says, "you must never identify yourself by your True Name. The Realms you create can be observed by anybody with the knowledge and the desire, and if anybody had your True Name they could trace it back to you. This must never happen."
You remember asking, "But what if you only shared that information with somebody you trusted implicitly? And even then, only once?"
The old man shook his head. "You forget the nature of the Demigod. All of space and time are at our disposal. Every word you speak in a Realm, every memory you recall, is always accessible at any time by any of the others. Never speak your True Name while sojourning in a Realm. The safest way to protect yourself is to choose an alternate name and identify with it so strongly that it becomes your new identity, removing or altering any memories that would contradict your new identity. In this way, nobody will be able to pierce the veil you weave."
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The pain slowly recedes as you think about the memory you've obtained.
You have no idea when or where that memory occurred. At the same time, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the memory was genuine and the old man was telling the truth. Additionally, you now realize that you are currently in one of these "Realms". You don't know how you know this. It's just something you intuitively sense, like gravity or warmth. This is a problem, because the third thing you intuitively know is that you still remember your True Name.
After a bit of thought you adopt the pseudonym "Cale." You always thought it was a cool name, even if it is also an edible leafy vegetable.
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You walk down the road towards the houses you see in the distance. After several minutes of walking you see a mare walking in your direction. She has a light purple coat and a pinkish-purple mane that clumps together and sort of reminds you of dreadlocks. She doesn't seem to notice you until you get closer. You smile and wave to her.
"Hello, there!" you shout.
The pony frowns, lets out a "hmph!" noise, tosses her head up and walks past you.
Well, that was rude. Maybe you'll have better luck with the next pony.
A few minutes later you meet another pony walking on the road. This one is a pegasus with a light brown coat and a darker brown mane.
"Hello!" you call. "Could you help me? I seem to be a bit lost."
The pegasus perks up and trots over to you. "What can I do for you?" he asks.
"I'm lost. I don't know where I am or how I got here."
"Well that's easy enough," the pegasus replies. "You're in Ponyville."
You've never heard that name before, but somehow it feels familiar.
"Have I been here before?" you ask before you can catch yourself.
The pegasus chuckles. "Not that I know of."
You chuckle too, but in embarrassment. "Yes, right. Well, the other thing I'd like to know is a little weirder. The first thing I remember today is waking up in the center of the aftermath of a giant explosion about half a mile that way," you say, gesturing down the road. "At least I assume that's what it was, because I woke up in pain in the dead center of scorch marks left on the ground. Before that, I don't remember anything."
The pegasus' eyes grew wide. "Good heavens! Do you think it's amnesia?"
"A loss of long-term memories caused by some sort of trauma?" you ask. You sigh. "Probably. It's frustrating. I know my name, my likes and dislikes, and most of the important things about myself. I just can't remember anything recent. Oh, speaking of names: I'm Cale."
A thrill runs through you as you introduce yourself by your pseudonym. You've never had a chance or a reason to use a fake name in the past, and it's rather exciting now that you do.
Well, except for that time you tried to pretend you were your own twin brother. That was just embarrassing.
The pegasus reaches out to shake your hand with his hoof. "I'm Crescent Moon. Nice to meet you, Cale. Now, you said you woke up in the dead center of what you assume was an explosion, but aside from the pain you seem to be just fine. There's nothing about your clothing or body that would suggest you've been subjected to heat intense enough to scorch the earth."
Your heart sinks. "Does this mean you don't believe me?" you ask, somewhat plaintively.
"Not at all," he says. "I just mean that whatever happened here is clearly not in the realm of the normal. And that means magic is probably involved. And there's nopony in Ponyville who knows magic better than Twilight Sparkle."
He starts walking down the road towards town. "Come along, I'll take you to her."
You follow him.