It's been one hundred and twenty-six years since Twilight Sparkle developed the Enhancement process from the ancient codices of Starswirl the Bearded. One hundred and twenty-six years of death, pain, and destruction as Twilight's abominations have gone horrendously mad, wreaking carnage beyond comprehension.

And now she's the only pony--only being--left.

Written by suggestion of NaughtSought as a Thirty Minute fic.
Contains speculative, yet plausible science-fiction concepts.
One-shot.
Based on the following short story (The World's Shortest Horror Story):
"The last man on Earth sat in his room. There was a knock on the door."
--Anonymous

Two days ago, the Changelings returned. The history books will call it the "Second War," but it was just a slaughter. The monsters swept through Equestria, ravaging mountain and vale almost indiscriminately. They would've killed us all, but for her sacrifice. Her loyalty. As the saying goes, "stone walls do not a prison make," but my mind is becoming one.

It's becoming a prison of glass and fire, a colorless prism, splitting my shining tears into a rainbow of sorrow.

--Completed for the time being. Regard it as a one-shot (although if I have time, I'll see about writing more)