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Do you like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic? You aren't alone, as many others do too. Are you a brony who uses GIO? Then this is the place for you.
Author Note: This prolouge really doesn't have anything to do with the fic itself. It's mainly used to get some feedback on my prose and writing style. I will also be posting pictures with my fic where appropriate, so you'll see artist credits all over the place too. Other than that, feel free to read and leave your comments in forums. Tear it to shreds people! Enjoy!
Working Title: Prolouge
The city of Canterlot.
After weeks of travel, I had finally arrived. The capital that had once been
the center of art, culture, and innovation now lay in ruins before my eyes. It
had been quite some time since its inhabitants had left their paradise. The magical
land with fertile soil, peaceful citizens, and amiable weather was nothing more
than a legend now. The green, hilly pastures filled with brightly colored
plants were now dusty dunes lined with dead trees and withering stalks. The
sky, though sunny, featured a thin, ever-present haze that shielded the blue
sky beyond it from view. Not a single soul was to be seen. Despite its current
form, this land had once been a popular setting for the fairytales I had heard
when I was young. Stories of the marvelous adventures and wonder, whose
conflicts seemed trivial compared to the fighting and bickering that plagued my
home hundreds of miles away.
Regardless, my opportunity had finally arrived. As a rising
historian at the local university, I had read many books detailing the history
of Canterlot, but the accounts had left me troubled. Many contained loose ends,
some skipped time periods nearly hundreds of years long, and others would
directly contradict another source. I had queried my professor about this many
times, but each attempt was met with the same reply. “No one cares about that
place anymore, just let it go.” he would say. Unfortunately, he was correct. It
was said that only a small amount of books managed leave Canterlot intact.
Others were either lost, destroyed, or so old that the text was just a line of
smudged ink page after page. The few that were still readable are only
available to the privileged elite.
Despite the snickering and gossip from my colleagues, I was
determined to see the land for myself. I didn’t know exactly what I’d find, but
it would be more than could ever be uncovered in the university library. Gathering
up old artwork, children’s books, and anything else I could find pertaining to
Canterlot, I mounted a miniature expedition to the fabled region alone. My
hopes seemed to fade shortly upon arrival, however. Most of the buildings were
crumbling, or already leveled to the ground. Hardly any plants were thriving
beside the occasional weed. Any object that could give even a small clue would
have most likely been crushed beneath the wreckage.
I had come too far to give up just yet though. After tearing
through by belongings, I consulted an old picture from the depths of my bag. Depicting
a brilliant castle upon a steep mountainside, I held the painting up. The
artist’s bountiful and regal landscape was barely comparable to the desolate
scene in front of me. Sure enough, however, there stood a mountain range sitting
on the horizon, whose shape and surrounding hills outlined perfectly with
everything the picture. Everything except for the castle, that is. It was quite
a walk from the ruins where I stood, but it was better than giving up after
coming so far.
Credit to CrappyUnicorn (DA, I think)
It was late afternoon when I finally arrived at the base of
mountain, and I was met with amazing spectacle. There before me sat the
crumbled ruins of a castle, overturned, and smashed into the ground as if it
had fallen from the protruding ledge high upon the cliff. The bottom of the
tumbled structure was in complete pieces on the ground, but the top still
seemed to be holding itself together. After dropping my things to the ground, I
began scaling the stone rocks, making my way slowly to the top. There was a
cracked window about halfway to the top. The dust and dirt covering the glass
made it impossible to see inside, so I picked up a nearby stone and tossed it through
the window, clearing the way. I stood on the window sill, kicking remnants of
broken glass into the dimly lit hole and waited for the sound of shattering
glass in an attempt to judge the depth of the pit.
Suddenly, the ledge faltered and fell apart beneath my feet.
I fumbled for a holding but to no avail. Down and down I fell, waving wildly,
praying for any kind of support to prevent the impending crash. Brushing against
some fabric, I twisted my body around and clutched onto it, slowing my descent.
With a hearty thump, I landed on a stone cold floor. The walls of the pit
seemed to resemble an old welcome hall, but with the castle now on its side,
the floor and ceiling had become towering walls. Up towards the window, the penetrating
sunbeam seemed so far away.
There was a door nearby that sat embedded in the floor, so I
broke it open and slowly lowered myself into the next room. Cracks in the walls
and rubble offered some light as I wormed my way through the rocks hoping to
find some possible hope of escape. There were messy kitchens, inverted
bedrooms, and what used to be a large dance hall. None of them seemed to
provide a feasible way to freedom. Only one last door remained unopened.
Bracing myself for inevitable defeat, I slammed against the doors, slowly
creaking one of them open.
Squeezing into the tiny opening I managed to create, I found
myself in staring into an illuminated library. Thousands of books were
scattered about, coating the floor with paper and bindings. The bookshelves hung
empty, bolted in the surrounding walls. On the far side of the room, a sizable
gap in the fallen boulders welcomed the sun into the room. A thrilling
excitement overtook me. Never had I seen so many books in one place! The sea of
knowledge before me sat calm and still, waiting to be explored! None of it
would matter though, if I couldn’t make it out. Maneuvering carefully around
the books, I made my way to the opposite wall. The hole seemed rather small and
it would be a tight fit, but it was possible to get myself out.
I squirmed outside, emptied my bag, and gathered as many
books as I could from the wreckage. Despite their age, the some of the books
had held together rather well, their ink and bindings still intact. There were
books on magic, cooking, etiquette, and even massive volumes of encyclopedias.
However, there was one book in particular that had caught my eye. Inside its
pages contained the life and journey of two royal sisters that had once ruled
the land. For you, I have translated the following chapters into the modern
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