A gentle breeze waved itself over ruined buildings, derelict ever since the arrival of the great bipeds. The night’s sky, stars that that painstakingly shone their light upon the ground, fighting for supremacy against the hundreds of Ubor ships above the atmosphere. On the far horizon, the city of Apex, set ablaze, its citadel barely standing at that point. Flakes of snow fell softly as well, coating the burnt city of Trottingham with a delicate layer of white.

Twilight Sparkle swore that she could still hear the screams of agony, panic and pain that filled the once great city in times of war. She, Atlas, and Celestia made their way through the broken streets, though not alone. Refugees of all species had arrived at the area, as if the city had suddenly gained life through despite all of what it had gone through. Broken buildings that provided at least some sort of cover for those injured.

Hard to imagine. Trottingham, the once place of devastation, ruined, but now flourishing in a twisted way after all the years gone past. Twilight had never outright fought, let alone set hoof in Trottingham after or during the war. The whole scenery was but a twisted display of what war brought. Not one soul vouched to bring it back. The pain was too much. Instead, the now barren land was considered damned. Just the fact that she was cruising the streets that were once sprayed with blood and bodies, brought shivers to her own. Once every few meters, gravestones could be seen planted on the side of the roads. So many that Twilight could barely comprehend how many people had died on those days of war.

Thinking that looking up at the sky would bring some sort of internal peace, would be a lie. The skies were dark and red, the Ubor ships still raining death upon the major settlements. All in all, between that and the past of Trottingham, Twilight had to choose the lesser evil, and as such, she continued to observe the downed city.

The loud steps of the Titan Atlas slowed down every now and then. Behind his stoic appearance, Twilight could tell that he felt strange. He had fought the Vector war, and had stood in Trottingham during the few days it took to level the city down. It was easy for her to assimilate the feeling of the giant.

On the other hand, was Celestia. Her stoic expression, unhidden behind any sort of cover, showed just how much she relinquished the fall of Trottingham. Now a Princess, Twilight could understand just how powerless Celestia felt during those days. The people she was supposed to protect, dying under her shadow. Ponies that were once happy, prayed to Celestia so they could have quick deaths. Prayers, directed at her during the last moments of her subjects’ lives. A grim representation, all in all.

People had joined Twilight’s group as they walked through the devastated city. They looked up at Atlas for protection, and Twilight and Celestia for guidance. Twilight’s eyes met those of a small foal dragging a tiny cart in which another foal, perhaps a relative, lay sleeping. The cart-dragging foal’s eyes watered as they contacted those of the Princess, his lips quivering before he broke out in a hushed cry. It was then that Twilight realized that the foal in the cart was already dead.

A lone human joined the group, carrying in his strong arms a small gryphon. Despite the weather, he wore nothing but the minimum, including a backpack. Twilight looked up at him, he smiled in return. Yet, it was not a good smile. A good smile does not carry behind itself the weight of others. She could feel that the man did not want to be in Trottingham, but he was doing it not for himself. Twilight looked behind him, only to find a long line of lone children following the man. Children of all species. Between each other they talked, in hushed whispers, as they looked at their Princess.

“I-It’s all gonna be okay…” she stuttered out. But little did her words do, but to raise more hopeless thoughts. She knew. The children’s figures, unclothed exposed to the frigid cold of the north. Their ears were black thanks to the frostbite. She knew that not all of them would make it, not under such conditions.

As the group continued to tread through the broken city, Twilight looked to the sides of the road. Burials were being made all around the center of Trottingham. People had carried their moribund or dead all the way, almost as if they would wake up from an endless sleep. All those people, crying their eyes out as they lay their relatives and friends on the ground.