A barren wasteland, covered in massive craters.
Bushes turned to dust and trees into firewood.
Nothing is left, just a few charred bricks and hills bashed in with holes with any grass blown apart.
A mountain, once known as The Guardian of Equestria, or Mt. Equestria, stripped of its glory and dignity and replaced with all the sadness and anger of the world.
And two very angry horses.
One the lightest of pinks, the other the darkest of blues, with wings that once shone, and now caked with mud and blood, and a once spiraling, graceful horn, now cracked and burnt at the tip.
Ethereal manes that once shone with pastel rainbows and starry nights now covered in dirt and crazed with tangles hung from their heads, limp as a dishrag.
Each standing at the top of Mt. Equestria, the pink one spoke first,"Never, Luna! Never will I back down! This has gone on too long for me to!"
"And neither shall I, Celestia! This war will end, with me on top of your corpse and my sword held high above me, glinting with starlight!" The blue one cried back.
The two were neck at neck, muzzle to muzzle, neither wanting to back down and lose, and yet neither wanting to land the final blow first.
Quite a dilemma, really.